Close to the Bone

Steel poked him in the chest with a yellowed finger. The words floated out on a tide of whisky fumes: ‘We’ll be there. Head of CID, remember? ’

21

Blue-and-white ‘POLICE’ tape stretched across the driveway, tied to a For Sale sign driven into the lawn on one side and next-door’s cheery garden gnome on the other. Not exactly impenetrable, but better than nothing.

Bees hummed in the syrupy summer air, thick with the Turkish-delight smell of honeysuckle and roses. A nice street, in one of the older bits of Kintore, only a handful of eighties bungalows breaking up the solid granite cottages and terraced houses. The clacking diesel growl of a train going past behind the property on the way out to Inverurie.

It wasn’t the kind of place normally associated with words like ‘bloodbath’.

DCI Steel leaned on the roof of Logan’s battered Fiat Punto, elbows just missing a gritty smear of vitrified seagull poop. She took a long drag on her fake cigarette. ‘What kind of sick weirdo has gnomes? ’

Chalmers struggled her way out of the back seat, notebook at the ready. ‘Why aren’t the SEB here? ’

‘I mean, it sounds like a venereal disease, doesn’t it? Can’t come into work today, I’ve got a bad case of the gnomes.’

No sign of life, so Logan called Rennie on his mobile. ‘Where are you? ’

‘Where are you? ’

‘Out front.’

‘Don’t come in!’ Clunk, rattle.

‘What, are you naked or something? ’

Then the front door opened and Rennie lurched out onto the driveway, dressed in a white SOC suit. ‘You have to stay out here.’

Steel snorted, then stepped over the gnome-line. ‘Aye, that’ll be shining.’

Rennie scurried over, the legs of his suit making rustly vwip-vwop noises. ‘No!’

She stopped one foot in, one foot out. ‘I’m head of sodding CID, you wee shite. I’ll decide-’

‘This is a secure scene. No one enters or leaves till the Procurator Fiscal and the IB gets here.’ He stuck out his chest. ‘First rule of crime-scene management: secure the scene.’

‘First rule of DCI Steel — do what you’re sodding told, or I’ll have your scrotum for a shower cap!’

His eyes flicked to Logan. ‘Guv? ’

‘You stick to your guns, Detective Sergeant.’

Steel scowled at him. ‘Don’t you bloody start.’ She pulled her shoulders back. ‘Rennie, I’m warning you: get out of-’

‘Have you been drinking? ’ He sniffed, then his mouth set into a hard little line. ‘You’re not getting anywhere near my crime scene. The PF would do her nut.’

Logan placed a hand on Steel’s shoulder. ‘Why don’t you and Chalmers wait out here, and I’ll let you. . What? ’

Rennie shook his head. ‘You’ve been in the pub with her, haven’t you? ’

‘I had one pint. I’m still-’

‘DI Leith got here five minutes ago, Control made him Senior Investigating Officer, and you know what he’s like.’

‘You called me! We came wheeching all the way out here for nothing? ’

Rennie opened his mouth, then closed it again. Fingered the elasticated hood of his oversuit. ‘I can’t let anyone in till the PF and the IB get here.’

Chalmers curled her top lip. ‘“IB”? How behind the times are you? It’s Scenes Examination Branch.’

‘That’s what we call them, OK? ’

‘How can you possibly be in charge of a crime scene-’

‘Oh, bugger off back up north with the rest of the Tartan Bunnet Brigade, we don’t-’

‘-can’t even tell the difference between-’

‘ENOUGH!’ Steel curled her hands into fists. ‘God, you’re like a pair of wee kids.’

Silence.

She jabbed a cigarette-stained finger at Rennie. ‘You, Procedure Boy, who’s FAO? ’

Rennie nodded at a patrol car parked on the other side of the road. ‘Constable Duncan.’

Steel hauled up her trousers. ‘Thrown off my own sodding crime scene. .’ She gave Rennie one last scowl, then turned on her heel and scuffed across the street to the patrol car. Chalmers waited a couple of beats, then followed her.

Rennie closed his eyes and sagged on the spot. ‘I’m sorry, OK? I panicked and I didn’t know what to do and it was all happening so fast and there’s all this blood. .’

Logan looked up and down the street. Quiet so far, but that would change. ‘You’re a right pain in the backside, you know that, don’t you? ’

He drooped even further. ‘Sorry, Guv.’

‘Don’t worry, you did the right thing. No one in or out.’ Then Logan followed Steel and Chalmers over to the patrol car.

The passenger door was open, a police officer sitting sideways in the seat with his feet in the gutter, head between his knees. He’d stripped off his stab-proof vest and dumped it on the driver’s seat.

Steel poked him on the shoulder. ‘You the First Attending Officer? ’

He nodded, then blew out a long shuddering breath.

‘No’ what you expect, is it? Hacked-up body on a nice Monday evening.’

Constable Duncan’s voice came out muffled from way down there. ‘It was. . like a horror film. .’

A young couple passed on the pavement opposite, giggling and murmuring, heads together, eating chips from rectangular cardboard boxes. The scent of batter and hot vinegar coiled out around them. The girl peered into the patrol car. ‘You doing someone? ’

Logan nodded at the house with its half-arsed barrier of blue-and-white tape. ‘You know who lives there? ’

Her boyfriend jammed in another handful of chips. ‘For sale, isn’t it? ’

As if the estate agent’s sign in the lawn wasn’t enough of a clue.

‘Darren.’ She smacked him on the shoulder, leaving greasy fingerprints on his AFC tracksuit top. ‘Been empty for ages. Think they went to Dubai or somewhere, you know, for work and that? ’

Steel straightened herself up. ‘You pair know it’s an offence to withhold evidence or lie to a police officer, right? So you’d better think really carefully before answering. .’ She squinted at the pair of them. Squared her shoulders. ‘Where’d you get those chips? ’

Steel counted out three grubby tenners into Chalmers’s palm. ‘Three fish suppers, one with pickled onion, a thing of mushy peas, and some tins of Irn-Bru.’ She looked down at the constable, still sitting in the passenger seat with his head between his knees. ‘You want some chips, Duncan? ’ No answer. ‘Get him one too.’

Chalmers pocketed the cash. ‘Ma’am.’

‘And get something for Rennie. Nothing fancy — mock chop or something — don’t want him getting ideas above his station.’

She brought her chin up. ‘Ma’am.’

‘Aye, and no spitting in it either.’ Steel made shooing motions. ‘Well, go on then.’

Chalmers puckered her lips for a moment, as if she was about to say something, then turned and marched off in the direction of the chip shop, back straight, arms swinging at her sides. Left, right, left, right, left, right. .

Steel settled her bum down on a garden wall and puffed at her fake fag. ‘Right, sunshine, time for you to sing for your supper. What happened? ’

PC Duncan took a deep breath, then sat up. His face was pale and shiny, like the belly of a frog, greeny- purple bags under his eyes. ‘I’ve never. .’ He swallowed. ‘I mean, they make you go to a post mortem, but. .’