Close to the Bone

‘So he’s violent.’

‘Got into a fight in a pub. I can try digging out the details if you want? ’

‘What about the mother? ’

‘Doreen Garfield: five warnings for threatening behaviour. Once told Agnes’s maths teacher she’d rip his balls off and make him eat them.’

‘OK, that’s-’

‘Apparently he said Agnes was thick. Another thing: I got a surname and an address for our mysterious Stacey. Her flatmate says she’s not been home since Friday night, didn’t turn up for work this morning either. Apparently it’s not unusual. She’s going to give me a call soon as Stacey shows.’

There was that efficiency again. ‘Good. Keep on it.’

‘And I’ve been looking through that red leather notebook we found in Agnes’s cupboard under the stairs, it’s exactly the same as the one the character-’

‘Rowan from Witchfire.’

‘Oh. .’ Silence. ‘I haven’t read the book for years, but I picked up a copy at lunchtime and guess what: the Fingermen burn witches by-’

‘Necklacing. I know.’

This time the silence stretched on and on and on.

‘Chalmers? ’

‘Sorry, Guv. I’ll. .’ She cleared her throat. ‘Anything else I can do? ’ Sounding a little desperate.

Steel tapped him on the shoulder. ‘See if I’m no’ back in the office by five, you’re getting my boot for a butt plug. ’

‘Find out where they are with the remains from this morning. Then take a look at Rennie’s racial hate crimes — see if you can come up with anything.’

‘You can count on me!’ And she was gone.

Steel blew a wet raspberry, the spray of spittle glowing in the sunshine. ‘Have you still no’ solved that one yet? ’

He walked up the path and rang the doorbell. ‘Investigations are still ongoing.’

‘And my arse is peanut butter. I’m no’ having racist scumbags running round crippling people, Laz.’

‘Well, tell you what, I’ll wave my magic wand and. .’ The door opened.

Agnes’s dad blinked out at them, a tin of Export in one hand, a remote control in the other. ‘Mmm? ’ The smell of beer came off him in thick waves. Not bad going for half four on a Monday afternoon.

‘Mr Garfield.’ Logan folded his arms. ‘Something else you failed to mention: she took an overdose in February.’

Garfield shaded his eyes with the hand holding the remote. As if he was trying to change the channel on Logan. Fat chance. ‘I. . didn’t think it was-’

‘No, you didn’t think, did you? She was taking anti-psychotics; how much cannabis did-’

‘She didn’t. .’ A sigh. Then he turned around and walked back into the house. ‘You’d better come in.’

Logan followed him into the lounge. The TV was paused: some sort of generic cop drama where everyone looked like models and no one ever broke wind, scratched their backside, or swore. An open pizza box filled the coffee table, a couple of slices lurking on the cardboard surrounded by discarded crusts. Empty beer cans were lined up like soldiers on the grease-flecked lid.

Garfield collapsed into a stripy armchair. ‘Doreen’s round her mother’s.’

Outside the living-room window, Steel leaned back against the car, pointing at her watch, then her boot.

Logan turned his back on her. ‘What part of, “Is there anything else you haven’t told us?” did you not understand? ’

A swig of beer. ‘Agnes slit her wrists because her mother decided she wasn’t allowed to see Anthony Chung any more. Doctor said she was lucky she didn’t wind up with permanent nerve damage.’ Garfield waggled the can from side to side, making the contents slosh and fizz. ‘She tried to hang herself when she was twelve. So we sent her to a shrink, and that was it: medication.’ He reached for one of the last slices, pepperoni acne glistening on greasy cheese. ‘Twelve and she’s on antipsychotics. What kind of life is that? ’

Silence.

‘Why the hell didn’t you tell us? I asked you if there was anything else, and you looked me in the eye and lied! Did you really think it didn’t matter? ’

A shrug. ‘She was doing better. The overdose was. . I don’t know. She was upset because Anthony wasn’t enthusiastic enough about her tattoo. They’re like that, always. .’ He curled one hand into a claw, the whole arm trembling. ‘You know? But she loves him.’

‘Did Agnes take her medication with her when she left? What if she has another episode? ’

Garfield’s mouth turned down at the edges. Then he took a bite, chewing as if it was bitter cardboard. ‘She couldn’t take it with her. We don’t. . Doreen doesn’t want. . After the overdose we don’t let Agnes manage her condition on her own. Doreen doles out the pills every day and watches to make sure she takes them.’

‘Then how come she had a pack of Risperidone in her stash? ’

‘Risperidone. .? ’ He shook his head. Washed the pizza down with the last of his beer. ‘No, she can’t have that: it’s only for when the episodes are really bad. It’s too strong for regular use. We manage her condition with Aripiprazole.’ The empty tin went to stand guard with its comrades.

‘Well, she got hold of some, didn’t she.’ God’s sake. Logan marched off a couple of steps, then back again. ‘Does she get violent when she’s not taking her medication? ’

Garfield stared down at the half-eaten slice in his hand. ‘We didn’t tell you, because we didn’t want it splashed all over the papers. Bad enough she has to live with her problems, without every bugger looking at her like she’s got two heads. None of their business.’

‘Is she violent? Yes or no.’

‘Agnes is a sweet little girl. She’s more likely to hurt herself than anyone else.’ He closed his eyes. ‘That’s why you have to find her. .’

19

‘Going to be sodding late. .’ Steel had one last dig at her bra, then slammed the passenger door shut.

The rear podium was packed with patrol and pool cars, the Chief Constable’s new Bentley standing on its own like a leper with halitosis. Everyone too scared of scratching the thing to park anywhere near it.

Logan plipped the pool car’s locks. ‘It’s five-to. You’ve got plenty of time.’

‘How am I supposed to have a fag, grab a coffee, shout at Rennie, and get to the meeting on time? ’ She hauled up her trousers. ‘Didn’t even want to go to the sodding thing in the first place. Bunch of stuffed shirts stuck in a room moaning. How are we supposed to stop the forensic monkeys going on strike? We’re no’ the ones buggering them about.’

‘And now you’ve got four minutes.’

Steel glanced up at the lump of concrete and glass. ‘Go and do the meeting for us, eh? ’

‘No chance. I’ve got a forensic anthropologist to chase up.’

‘Be good for you: character building. You can-’

‘What’s more important: you sloping out of the meeting, or us catching whoever necklaced that poor bugger? ’

‘Well. .’ A scowl made the wrinkles gang up on Steel’s narrow lips. ‘While we’re on the subject, I told you to tell your bloody mother to sod off and stop whining on about spending more time with Jasmine. She’s your mother. Fix her!’ Then Steel wheeled around and stomped off through the back doors to FHQ.

Logan waited until they’d clunked shut behind her, before sticking two fingers up.

The steps down to the mortuary entrance were a shadowy graveyard for discarded crisp packets and