Close to the Bone

‘You told me you were finished with the scene!’ Logan shifted the mobile from one ear to the other, foot flat to the floor. The Fiat’s engine whined and complained, the speedometer jiggling its way up to seventy as it hammered down the Tyrebagger hill.

The SEB head tech’s voice was thin, as if he was forcing it through gritted teeth. ‘We were finished. There’s nothing-’

‘Then why did I just find three human finger bones hanging outside the back door? ’

‘That’s not-’

‘Get your people back out there and do it properly!’

‘Don’t you-’

‘You left human remains at a crime scene, John, how, exactly, is that doing your job? Now get. . John? ’ Pause. ‘John? ’ Typical, he’d hung up. Bloody prima donna.

Logan overtook an eighteen-wheeler and tried Chalmers instead.

‘Guv? ’

‘I want you to get over to Agnes Garfield’s house and find us a DNA sample. If the parents give you any trouble, tell them it’s standard procedure when someone goes missing.’

‘Don’t worry, Guv: I get the feeling they’ll be a lot more cooperative now they know she’s OK.’

‘Why would they. .? ’ The cash-machine withdrawal — she was caught on camera. Sodding hell. ‘Her parents don’t know. We didn’t tell them she’d been spotted taking money out of Anthony Chung’s account.’ Bloody idiot.

A pause. Then Chalmers was back with a smile in her voice. ‘Even better: means I get to break the good news. Be no problem getting a sample after that. We- Oh, hold on. .’ There was a scrunching noise, as if she’d put a hand over the mouthpiece. Then she was back. ‘Constable Guthrie says there’s a Dr Goulding here to see you? ’

‘Put Goulding in an interview room with Robbie Whyte. I want a full psych evaluation.’

‘Emergency detention? ’

‘And tell Goulding to find out if Whyte’s capable of murder.’ Logan stuck on the brakes, pulling into the slip lane to turn right across the dual carriageway.

‘You think he might be the one who. .’ There was a pause. ‘Who did he kill? ’

Good question.

Logan gunned the engine, nipping across the carriageway in the gap between a bread van and a minibus. ‘And soon as you’ve got some of Agnes’s DNA, make sure they test it against the necklacing victim and the body we found last night. And the bones from my roof too.’

Chalmers whistled. ‘You think she killed all three of them? ’

‘Bloody hope so, otherwise we’ve got a whole bunch of nutters out there murdering people.’ Nutters. . Better safe than sorry. ‘Get them to test Robbie Whyte’s DNA against them as well.’

There was a pause, then the intercom buzzed and the gate swung open. Logan edged the car off the road and onto the long gravel driveway. Little chunks of granite pinged and clunked in the rusting wheel-arches.

Wee Hamish Mowat’s house was a big Victorian mansion in solid grey granite. All bay windows and little twiddly bits at the gables and guttering. Logan parked the Fiat next to a bright-red Land Rover Defender that didn’t look as if it’d ever been off road in its life.

His phone rang as he climbed out of the car. He hit the button. ‘What? ’

‘Laz? It’s Tim. . Tim Mair? Need to talk to you about some hooky merchandise that’s- ’

‘It’ll have to wait, Dildo, I’ve got something on.’

‘OK. This afternoon? About three? I’ve got some knock-off custard creams you can cadge.’

Bloody Trading Standards and their counterfeit biscuits. ‘Fine. Three.’

‘I’ll need at least. .’ Dildo was still talking, but Logan wasn’t listening any more.

The front door opened and there was Tam ‘The Man’ Slessor’s niece, wearing a blue nurse’s uniform, white trainers, and a scowl that could sour milk. She folded her arms across her wide chest. ‘He’s busy.’

Back to the phone.

‘. .in Mastrick, so it shouldn’t be-’

‘Bye, Dildo.’ He hung up, locked the Fiat and scrunched his way across the gravel to the foot of the stairs. ‘Do you know it’s an offence to provide a false alibi, Ms Slessor? ’

A sharp-edged smile pulled at her lips. ‘Reuben was here with me the whole time. At it like rabbits, we was. He’s a very sensuous lover.’

Dear God, now there was a mental image that’d take a wire brush and Dettol to shift. ‘He wasn’t, he was outside my bloody caravan.’

‘Nah, you must’ve walked into a door or something. Think you can blame it on poor Reuben, when he’s never done nothing to no one. You’re a lying bastard.’

Logan took a step towards her.

She unfolded her arms, both fists clenched like bags of rocks. The smile grew wider. ‘Come on then.’

He stopped. Took a deep breath. Counted to five. ‘I need to see Hamish.’

‘Mr Mowat’s indisposed.’

‘I’m not buggering about here, I need to speak-’

‘You need to back up your rusty wee hatchback and get the hell off Mr Mowat’s property, that’s what you need to do.’

Logan pulled out his warrant card. ‘Understand? ’

She tilted her head to one side, making a crescent moon of chin-fat. ‘You got a search warrant? ’Cos if you don’t, you can- Hey! Come back here!’

No chance.

He marched around the side of the house, the sound of Nurse Slessor’s trainers crunching on the gravel behind him. For a wee chunky lass, she was quick.

The path wrapped all the way around the house, and round the back the place opened up in a wide swathe of emerald green lawn, punctuated with trees and bushes, a flower bed in full Technicolor riot.

‘Come back here!’

The conservatory doors were open, leading out onto a raised decking area surrounded by roses growing in big wooden tubs. Wee Hamish’s wheelchair was parked in the sunshine, a tartan blanket draped over his knees, an oxygen mask on his face. Head down, shoulders slumped.

Logan climbed the steps.

A voice came from the garden, shouting over the drone of a lawnmower. Reuben. ‘Chloe? What’s wrong? ’

‘He’s back!’

Wee Hamish twitched, left hand trembling on the blanket. ‘Mmmpht? ’ Then he blinked watery red-rimmed eyes at Logan. ‘Nnngnn, tmmmwht dn we nnn. .? ’

Nurse Slessor thumped up the stairs onto the decking. Grabbed Logan by the arm. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Mowat, I told him you were asleep, but he wouldn’t-’

‘Get off me.’ Logan shook her free. ‘Hamish, we need to talk. And we need to talk now.’

Wee Hamish reached up and pulled off the oxygen mask. ‘Logan. .’ A smile. ‘To what do we owe the honour? ’

‘I told him, but he wouldn’t listen.’ She grabbed Logan’s arm again. ‘Reuben!’

A crackle of feet on gravel, puffing and heeching, and then Reuben’s voice growled up from the garden. ‘Bloody hell you doing here? ’

‘Hamish, I mean it.’

Thump — a steel-toecapped boot on the bottom step. ‘Did you not learn your lesson last time? ’