Close to the Bone

‘That’s your connection? ’

‘No.’ She opened her mouth. Then closed it again. Had another go: ‘Well, yes it is, but think about it: if you’ve been attacked by a bunch of racist morons, why lie to protect them? Why not cooperate with the police? Wouldn’t you want them arrested and locked up? ’

He shook his head. ‘Not that much of a shock, is it? Whoever beat them up threatens to come back and finish the job if they speak to the police. Poor sods are too scared to stick their hands up and ask for help.’

‘But what if it’s more than that? What if our victims are involved in something illegal too? ’

‘And they can’t talk without incriminating themselves.’ Possible.

‘What if-’

A gravelly voice sounded right behind her. ‘Hoy, Curly-top, budge up.’ Steel was back.

Chalmers stood. ‘Sorry, ma’am. Would you like my seat? ’

Steel smiled. ‘Blatant sucking up, but I’m cool with that.’ She thumped a pint glass down on the table in front of Logan: black with a white head.

He sniffed at it. ‘I don’t drink Guinness, I drink Stella. You know that.’

‘Tough nipples. They’re no’ giving Stella away half-price if you flash your warrant card, are they? ’ She creaked into the vacated seat, clutching a large white wine and what had to be a triple whisky. ‘Anyway, it’s good for you.’

‘You drink it then.’

Steel shuddered, then took a sip of wine. ‘No chance. Bloody stuff tastes like licking a leprechaun’s bumhole.’

Chalmers shuffled her feet. ‘I like Guinness.’

Logan pushed the pint towards her. ‘Knock yourself out.’

‘. .thanks, everyone! We’re Burn this City Down, and we’ll be back after a short break: Jane needs a pee, and the rest of us need Tequila!’ A huge round of applause went up, and the band followed the blushing bass player offstage.

Steel settled back in her seat and had a scratch at her left armpit, lips puckered, staring at PC Hannah. ‘Come on then.’

The constable gave her a slow-motion blink — one eye lagging behind the other — then smiled, chin pulled into her neck, giving birth to chins. ‘Shoot Jamie. Shag Nigella. Marry Delia? ’

Steel threw her head back and roared a laugh at the ceiling.

Chalmers wobbled her way through the crowd to the table with a chipped brown tray laden with drinks. ‘Right: one latte, one sparkling water. .’ She doled them out to Guthrie and Dr Graham. ‘One Jack and Coke for Sophie, one Stella. .’ That went down in front of Logan. ‘One white wine with a Grouse chaser. .’ Steel. ‘And two Guinness.’

She tucked the tray under the table for next time. ‘Cheers, everyone.’

Steel wrapped herself around a mouthful of wine. Smacked her lips. ‘Guthrie, your turn: Tony Blair, Ed Miliband, and Nick Clegg.’

Chalmers shuffled her chair closer to Logan’s. ‘Before I forget. .’ She dug about in her handbag, coming out with a white carrier-bag with a big ‘W’ on it. ‘Got you something.’

Ah. Logan stared at it. Well, this was awkward. ‘You don’t have to. . It’s. . I’m certainly flattered, but I’m seeing someone and-’

‘Oh God no, no.’ She held up her hand and shrank back in her seat, eyes wide. ‘I’m not. . It isn’t. . I just thought it would help with the investigation.’ She handed it to him. ‘Open it.’

He did. There was a paperback inside, thick as a house brick. Witchfire picked out in shiny gold above a ‘SIGNED BY THE AUTHOR’ sticker, another boasting ‘SOON TO BE A MAJOR MOTION PICTURE!’ and one more with ‘2 FOR?10!’. The actual book cover was almost invisible. ‘I see. .’

Chalmers took a mouthful out of her Guinness, leaving herself with a white foam moustache. ‘Tenet Two: “Know thine enemy, for knowledge is power and power is victory.” If Agnes Garfield is really that obsessed with the book, maybe we can use it to figure out where she is, or what she’s going to do next? ’

Might not be a bad idea at that.

Laughter erupted through the group, Steel pounding on the tabletop, tears rolling down her cheeks. ‘You’re a sick, sick puppy, Guthrie! A cucumber!’

Guthrie shrugged. ‘It’s not like I’d eat it afterwards.’

Logan slipped the book into his pocket. ‘Thanks.’

‘No problems, Guv.’

The glass of Stella was cold, beads of condensation rolling down the side. He raised it to his lips, then swore. His phone was having a fit in his pocket, vibrating and blaring out ‘If I Only Had a Brain.’

Sodding Rennie. .

‘What do you want? ’

Rennie’s voice was barely audible in the crowded pub. ‘-ng, don’t ha-. . -er and. . it? ’

Logan stuck a finger in his other ear. ‘What? ’

‘I sai-. . entire pl-. . -overed in blood! It-. . -ody.’

He stood. ‘Calm down and try again.’

Rennie did, but it wasn’t any better.

Steel frowned up from her whisky. ‘What’s munching on your pants? ’

‘Rennie. Says there’s a body, blood everywhere.’ Logan grabbed his jacket off the chair and pushed through the crowd to the exit.

Sunlight glinted off the roadworks on the other side of the street, a deep hole in the patchwork tarmac ringed around with orange cones and barrier tape.

Justice Mill Lane bustled with cars, taxis and drunken half-wits. A pair of girlies were bent over their friend, at the kerb, outside the nightclub next door, one holding her hair the other stroking her shoulders as she vomited in the gutter. Her short skirt was tucked into her knickers at the back. Classy.

A pack of greasy-looking young men laughed like hyenas outside the slab-faced communist-styled lump of a building that used to be the local swimming pool, trying to get one of their number to wear a stolen traffic cone as a wizard’s hat. Someone in the distance roared out the words to ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ as if it was a battle cry.

Eight o’clock on a Monday evening. .

Logan hunched his shoulders against the noise and pressed the phone hard against his ear. ‘What body? ’

‘OK, OK. .’ There was a deep breath. ‘Kintore. Neighbours complained about the smell, so the local station sent round a uniform. There’s a body in the kitchen and blood. . everywhere.’

‘Has the-’

‘I can’t cock this up! I’ve never dealt with something like this on my own. What? What do I do? ’

O’Donoghue’s door clunked open and Chalmers appeared.

DCI Steel was right behind her, blinking into the sunshine. ‘What’s this about a body? ’

‘Will you shut up? ’

‘I’m sorry, I’ll shut up. Just tell me what to do!’

‘Not you.’

Steel stuck her chin out. ‘Don’t you tell me to shut up!’

He turned his back on her. ‘Get your notebook out. I need you to call Control and tell them you’re confirming it’s a suspicious death. Tell them you need a crime scene manager, the PF, the pathologist, the IB, and enough bodies to search the place and get door-to-doors started.’

‘I can do this. . I can do this. .’

‘And get the scene secured — you know the drill: no one in or out. Now give me the address and I’ll be there as soon as I can.’