‘Your first real body? ’
‘The
Logan flipped open his notebook. ‘When did you get the call? ’
‘I was out looking for a missing Renault Clio. House has been vacant for about eight months, local estate agent’s handling the sale. Neighbours phoned the station complaining about the smell coming from the place.’ He shuddered. ‘Got there and there’s no sign of forced entry, so I go down the estate agent’s and get the key, come back and. .’ He puffed out his cheeks. ‘He was in the kitchen.’
‘Victim? ’
‘Male, IC-one. . maybe. Difficult to tell. . Face all battered, cuts and stab marks over his body.’ PC Duncan’s head went back between his knees. ‘Oh God. .’
Steel examined the end of her pretend cigarette. ‘Tortured? ’
‘They staked him out on the lino. There’s blood everywhere: on the floor, on the walls. And the flies. . God, the place is
Logan wrote it down. ‘What about the neighbours? ’
Duncan raised his greasy face. ‘Mr and Mrs Morris, they’re in their eighties. He’s in a wheelchair. Don’t think they did it.’
Steel blew a raspberry. ‘He means did they see anything, you divot.’
‘They keep themselves to themselves.’
‘Pfff. .’ She stood, stretched, then leaned on the roof of the patrol car. ‘Someone up there sodding hates me. We’ve no’ had anything like this for what, two, three years? And soon as I’m in charge of CID, bang: necklacing, skeletons, and some poor sod tortured to death. Could they no’ have waited till Finnie gets back? ’
Logan sooked the salt and grease from his fingertips, then stuffed the cardboard box back in the plastic bag it came in. ‘Fiscal’s here.’
Steel crunched through a bit of batter. ‘How can they no’ wrap fish and chips in paper any more? Used to love that — the smell of hot fat and sharp vinegar and warm newsprint. That’s your golden days of childhood right there.’
The Procurator Fiscal’s Mercedes purred to a halt behind a grubby Transit van with ‘MANKY MYSTERY MACHINE’ finger-painted into the grime.
‘At least it’s no’ in that polystyrene rubbish. Whoever invented
The passenger door swung open and the Fiscal climbed out, looked around. Frowned. Then marched across the street to Logan’s battered Fiat Punto, heels clicking on the tarmac. ‘You’re eating
Steel dipped a chunk of fish into the tub of snotter-green peas. ‘Would’ve got you some, but you weren’t here.’
The Fiscal’s eyes narrowed, mouth pinched. ‘Have you any idea what will happen when the press turn up and find you lot mooching around eating chips? ’
‘Thought it would be classier than a kebab.’
‘Have you been
‘I’m no’ the one shouting and banging things, am I? ’
Rennie emerged from the front door of the house and waved at them. ‘Ma’am? DI Leith says he’s ready whenever you are.’
‘Go
Steel popped a chip into her mouth and chewed.
‘I mean it, Roberta!’
A shrug. ‘Sod all going on here anyway.’ She closed the lid on her cardboard box and passed it to Logan. ‘Laz, fire up the Crapmobile, the pub beckons.’
‘And never turn up half-cut to one of my crime scenes again.’ The Procurator Fiscal turned and clacked towards the house. ‘Briefing: tomorrow morning, nine sharp.’
Steel licked the peas from her fingers, then stuck two of them up at her departing back.
Rennie grimaced at them, then lifted up the line of blue-and-white ‘POLICE’ tape so the Fiscal could duck under it.
‘Course you know what this is, don’t you? ’ Steel picked something out from between her teeth. ‘Pent-up sexual frustration. PF sees me and gets all excited in her barbed-wire panties.’
‘Am I dropping you back at the pub or not? ’ Logan got in behind the wheel. ‘Should’ve been at the hospital ages ago.’
‘Mind you, bet she goes like a Rampant Rabbit wired up to the mains. I could-’
‘Do you
‘Touchy.’ She cupped her hands around her mouth. ‘CHALMERS, ARSE IN GEAR: WE’RE GOING!’
The DS appeared from behind a nearby hedge. ‘Sorry, Guv, I was. . looking for a bin. To put the chip boxes in? ’
Steel opened the passenger door, then hauled the seat forward and hooked a thumb at Chalmers. ‘In the back.’ As soon as she was inside, Steel clunked the seat into place again. ‘Pretty convenient you went off a- Wombling the minute the PF turned up, isn’t it? ’
‘I. . Recycling’s important.’
‘Didn’t want to be labelled as a prick for breathing Guinness fumes all over her, more like.’
In that case, she was a hell of a lot more sensible than Steel.
Logan cranked the engine over and drove them both back to town.
The slates are warm beneath her buttocks, the heat seeping through her jeans and into her bones. Rowan leans back against the roof, legs dangling over the edge as the sun sinks towards the horizon. It’s nearly nine, but the burnt-fat scent of barbecuing flesh coils through the air from the massive steading development hidden behind the house, mingling with the sharp emerald stain of freshly mown grass.
A fat pigeon croooow-crooooows from the overgrown beech hedge. Somewhere in the distance a dog barks.
The world is back in its place.
She sucks on her pipe. . Nothing. The weed’s dead in the bowl, so she sparks her Zippo and puts the flame to it again, drawing the smoke deep inside her and holding it there like the Holy Spirit. Calming the turmoil. Settling the waters.
She has done a good thing today, released a tortured soul into the warmth of God’s embrace.
A confession.
Repentance.
Acceptance.
Rapture.
Release.
A grin spreads itself across her face, pulling her cheeks tight. She has lit a fire in God’s name today, and it will burn for all eternity.
22
Steel’s smile grew another inch. She licked her lips and waggled her eyebrows. ‘You
Chalmers shook her head, backing away from Logan’s manky Fiat Punto. ‘Er. . no. No thanks. I’m good. I’ll just. . walk home from here. Need the exercise.’ And she was off, marching down the street, glancing back over her shoulder as if she was afraid they were going to start chasing her.
Logan clunked the car door shut. ‘Do you have to do that? ’
