Close to the Bone

The car park was bathed in a golden glow, sparking on chrome bumpers and gleaming paintwork. Logan settled back against a BMW. ‘When I searched Agnes’s house I found your missing Dittay book: the one with all the squiggles and sigils in it. And a script.’

‘So we pooled our resources, remortgaged our houses, optioned the rights to Witchfire, and got a stack of investors involved. Meant we could afford proper big-name actors, set designers, cinematographers, costumes. . We’ve got the budget to do something really special here.’

‘Why didn’t you press charges? ’

Off in the middle distance, Steel was grumbling into her mobile, kicking a stone about like a sulky teenager.

Insch ran a hand along the wattle of skin under his chin. ‘She never changes, does she? ’

‘There must have been a reason.’

‘Go back in time five years and you’d have been mad to put money on her running CID. Me: yes. Her: no chance. You’d have more luck betting she’d be out on her backside for gross misconduct. Or banged up somewhere.’ A sigh. ‘Now look at us.’

‘She’s not running CID. . Well, she is, but only till Finnie gets back from Malaga: serial rape, case review.’

‘Not that I’m complaining, mind: I love making movies. And Witchfire’s only the beginning, we’re already looking about for the next project.’ A smile stretched his cadaverous features. ‘This is the start of something big, Logan. Aberdeen’s going to be the film capital of Scotland. Goodbye Hollywood, hello Stoneywood.’

‘So why didn’t you press charges? ’

Insch settled onto the bonnet next to him, the bag of carrot sticks plonked down between them. ‘Because Zander is ruled more by this. .’ He poked himself in the chest. ‘Than this. .’ The finger doinked off the side of his forehead a couple of times. ‘We called the police, went round, demanded our property back, and her father gave us this big sob story about how she’d tried to kill herself and she’s a good kid really and we can’t blame her for being mentally ill.’

‘And Zander. .? ’

‘Hook, line, and stinker. Didn’t want to be responsible for her taking another overdose.’

‘Yeah, well, I suppose you can’t blame him for. .’ Logan dragged out his notebook. ‘Hold on, her dad told us she’d slit her wrists.’

‘That was at Christmas. She took an overdose in February: Valentine’s Day.’ A nod. ‘Nothing like it for bringing out the suicidal romantics.’

‘The bastards lied to us, again.’

Insch cleared his throat, looked down at his huge shoes. ‘I heard about Samantha, and the fire. I’m sorry.’

Everyone was always sorry.

Logan cricked his neck from side to side. ‘What about you? How’s Miriam and the kids getting on? ’

‘Apparently Canada’s lovely this time of year. Anna’s got a boyfriend. Can you believe that? Only eleven and she’s got a boyfriend. Haven’t seen her or Brigit for two years. .’ Insch chewed on the inside of his sunken cheek for a bit. ‘Miriam’s getting married in September. He’s called Jeff, owns a restaurant in Vancouver.’ The word ‘Jeff’ was pronounced as if it tasted bad.

‘Sorry.’

‘It is what it is.’ Insch crunched his way through another carrot. Then stared off into the middle distance. ‘Speaking of arsehole boyfriends: I need you to do me a favour.’

Wonderful. ‘Oh aye? ’

‘Nichole Fyfe. Her ex has been causing trouble: turning up at her hotel, declaring undying love, having a go at the security team, threatening her driver, throwing his weight around. Won’t take “You were dumped four years ago” as an answer.’

‘So she wants to make a formal complaint? ’

‘This is the movies, Logan. The leading lady doesn’t make complaints about her ex-boyfriend stalking her, she gets someone else to do it for her. And I don’t want the papers getting hold of it.’

Logan couldn’t keep the laugh in. ‘Your film’s all over the gossip mags, and the radio, and the TV, and-’

‘That’s not the point. Nichole doesn’t want to look like a big-headed diva who’s too good for Aberdeen. And I don’t want her distracted and not focusing on her job.’ He shoogled the bag, then held it out. ‘Want one? ’

‘So, what: you want me to go lean on him? Read him the riot act? Get him to fall down the stairs a couple of times? ’

‘You’d rather wait till he hurts someone? ’ Insch helped himself to some carrots.

Logan closed his eyes for a moment. All these years and Insch was still manipulating him. ‘I’m not promising anything, OK? ’

‘His name’s Robbie Whyte, twenty-five, lives in Inverurie with his mum.’ Insch hauled himself off the car and checked his watch. ‘Time’s up. I’ve got a meeting with Trading Standards in five minutes — haven’t even finished principal photography and some scumbag’s already flogging counterfeit Witchfire merchandise — then it’s the council historian we use as a witchcraft consultant. Then some arsehole journalist, then a competition winner. . And at some point, I’ve got a film to make. Make sure you hand your passes back in at the gate when you leave.’

‘Right.’

Insch stalked off a couple of steps, then stopped, with his back still turned. ‘If. . there’s anything you need, give me a call and I’ll see what I can do.’

‘Lying bastards swore to me there was nothing else we needed to know about Agnes.’ Logan put his foot down as soon as the car’s bonnet was level with the forty-miles-per-hour sign, overtaking the bus in the inside lane. ‘How are we supposed to-’

‘Blah, blah, blah, life’s tough, people lie.’ Steel cracked open the passenger window, letting in the dual- carriageway roar of Auchmill Road. ‘Get over it.’ She pulled out a packet of cigar-ettes and jiggled one out. ‘Weird seeing Insch again, isn’t it? All thin and bony and floppy like that. .’

‘We’re taking a detour. Agnes Garfield’s mum and dad have got some explaining to do.’

‘Bet if you stuck one of them garage air pumps up his bum you could inflate him like a beach ball.’ She sparked the cigarette with a Zippo, then clunked one foot up on the dashboard and had a scratch. ‘You know, it’s just like old times: you, me, Inschy McFattypants. . Except now we’d have to call him McSkinnypants.’ A grin. ‘I know: McFloppypants, he’ll like that.’

Five minutes later they were in deepest darkest Northfield. Logan hauled on the handbrake. The sound of shrieking children came from the other side of the high school wall, interspersed with shouted commands and laughter.

Steel sooked on the last nub of her cigarette, slouched so far down her seat she was nearly in the footwell. ‘You sure about this? ’

‘They lied.’

‘Aye, I know that. But what does spanking them for it get you? ’

‘What else are they lying about? ’ He climbed out into the warm afternoon and called Chalmers: ‘I need you to run me a quick PNC on Agnes Garfield’s parents.’

It sounded as if she was in the middle of eating something. ‘Give me just a second. .’ A slurp. Then the clacking of fingers on keyboard. ‘Did you see the results from the lab? ’

‘Can we just focus on-’

‘The cannabis was about twenty-one percent THC, which is phenomenally high. And the blister pack of pills we found was Risperidone. It’s an atypical antipsychotic — might be to counteract the weed? ’

No wonder all of Agnes’s friends thought she was a basket case.

Chalmers made a little humming noise. Then: ‘Here we go. . The computer says Agnes’s dad, Mark Garfield, has been done for speeding, Council Tax evasion, and once for assault.’