Close to the Bone

Brilliant. As if this wasn’t hard enough. ‘Do they know it’s him? ’

‘Will do soon enough: ACC’s doing a press conference at eight. Wheeling out Anthony’s mum and dad, so they can tell the world how they’re worried about Agnes and want her to be safe.’

‘It’s not her I’m worried about.’

A couple of uniforms slogged their way up the rear ramp, water dripping from the brims of their peaked caps. No point in hurrying, they probably couldn’t get any wetter.

One last puff, then Steel pinged her cigarette butt out into the downpour. It bounced off the Chief Constable’s Bentley, sparking against the paintwork. ‘And for the record: I don’t give a flying monkey’s willy-warmer what my father thought.’

A knock at the office door, then Chalmers slipped inside. ‘Guv? ’

Logan signed the last form in the stack and stuck it in his out-tray. Halle-bloody-luiah. ‘Where have you been? ’

‘Chasing down some leads on the Garfield case.’ She shrugged, gave him a half smile. ‘Nothing but dead- ends, sorry. But I wanted to ask if-’

‘If it’s not toe-curling urgent: go home.’ He stood, paused, then cricked his head to one side, then back the other way — something in his neck popped and creaked like a fistful of gristle.

‘I want to volunteer for the soup-kitchen job.’

‘Nothing to do with me: it’s DI Bell’s shout.’ Logan sat back down again. ‘Where are we with the GSM trace? ’

‘Still nothing. I got in touch with their phone companies: neither of them’s used their mobiles for a week and a bit. No outgoing calls or text messages.’

He swivelled his chair from side to side, staring up at the ceiling. ‘So they’ve not used their phones for a week, but Agnes Garfield still manages to get in touch with her therapist. .’

‘Probably just picked up a new pay-as-you-go SIM card. Bet Dr Marks has got the number though.’ A shrug. ‘If we could get him to talk.’

Whatever happened to the good old days, when you could batter a suspect around the legs and back with a length of rubber hose till they confessed? Still, with any luck Goulding was right and a night in the cells surrounded by drunken idiots would break Dr Marks like a stale biscuit. ‘Go home. Get some rest.’

‘But, Guv, the soup kitchen is-’

‘They don’t start serving till nine. Gives you nearly an hour and a half. Tell DI Bell I said you’re to help him out till midnight, no later. I want you in bang on time tomorrow. And look. .’ He picked Agnes Garfield’s stolen dittay book off his desk, then followed it with Chalmers’s report on its contents. ‘I’m taking both home to read tonight. Just make sure that next time, you hand them to me.’

‘Yes, Guv.’ She smiled, showing off those sharp little teeth of hers. ‘Thanks, Guv.’

‘Oh, and this soup-kitchen job: don’t think you’re getting any overtime for it, OK? ’

Standing in the corridor, Logan locked the office door. Closed his eyes. Rested his head against the cool wooden surface. Home. . Quarter to eight: forty-five minutes to get back to the caravan and get the lasagne in the oven.

His phone buzzed in his pocket: text message.

Do U want me 2 pick up some wine or something?

Logan thumbed in a quick reply, then froze.

A voice behind him: ‘Guv? ’

He slipped the phone back into his pocket. ‘Rennie, unless your head’s on fire, I’m not interested.’

‘Got something for you? ’

Probably another moan. He took the keys out of the lock and dumped them in his pocket. ‘Thought you were back on days now? ’

‘No, you’re going to love this one. .’

Logan turned, slumped back against the door. ‘I swear to God, if this isn’t good, I’m going to knee your testicles into orbit. Deal? ’

Rennie grinned. ‘You know you’ve got Chalmers looking for Stacey Gourdon? Well, guess who I found? ’ He contorted his face into a Popeye wink. ‘Go on, I bet you can’t. .? ’

The cell block reverberated with the sounds of what could almost be called singing. As long as you didn’t care too much about lyrics, melody, or adhering to any one key.

Kathy the PCSO led the way to the block of cells where they kept the female prisoners. ‘Still haven’t found anyone with Tourette’s, but the night’s young.’

She stopped outside the cell at the end of the corridor. Then slid the hatch open. ‘Stacey Gourdon: breach of the peace. Otherwise known as staggering blootered down Belmont Street at three in the afternoon with her dress hoiked up around her armpits and no pants on, shouting at random strangers to, and I quote, “Taste the rainbow of fruit flavours.” Uniform turned up and she tried to stab them with her high heels.’

Classy.

Rennie hooked his thumb at the cell door. ‘See? What did I tell you? ’

Logan stepped up and peered inside.

A young woman sat on the edge of the blue plastic mattress, holding onto the bed, staring at the other side of the room, mouth hanging open, blinking in slow motion. Her short black dress was rucked up on one side, her knees scraped red and speckled with scabs. Bruises made a violet tattoo on her bare shoulder. Short black hair sticking out in all directions, like a punk pixie.

Not dead then.

Logan knocked on the metal door. ‘Stacey? You up to answering a couple of questions? ’

Her voice sounded as if it belonged at the bottom of a well. ‘I didn’t do it.’

‘Didn’t do what? ’

‘Whatever it is you’re trying to pin on me. That’s the “what” I didn’t do.’

‘Anthony Chung.’

She turned to look at the hatch. Her mascara and lipstick was all smeared to the right, as if her head was suffering from motion blur. ‘Now that I did do.’

Stacey Gourdon sat on the chair with her knees up against her chest, picking away at her scabby knees. ‘This whole interrogation gestalt is so passe, isn’t it? What happened to the good old-fashioned smoky room, with the single light bulb? Sometimes there’s comfort in cliche, don’t you think? ’

Building Maintenance had given interview room two a fresh coat of paint. It was a bit like putting an Elastoplast on a tumour.

Logan sighed. ‘For the last time: you can’t have a cigarette.’

‘But I can have a lawyer.’

‘If you want one. But I’m not interested in you, I want to know about Anthony Chung and Agnes Garfield.’

‘Gagh. .’ Stacey’s mouth opened wide and down, as if she’d just swallowed something bitter. ‘They are so high maintenance. A sweet couple, but just. . completely. .’ Stacey stopped picking and twirled a forefinger at the side of her head instead.

‘You know they’re missing? ’

‘You’re not asking the right question.’

OK. . ‘What’s the right question? ’

‘Do I know where they are now? ’

Logan sat back in his seat. ‘And do you? ’

‘Nope.’ She went back to picking. ‘Next question.’

‘You haven’t heard from them at all? ’

A chunk of brown scab came loose, the skin beneath it pink and shiny. A dot of red oozed to the surface. ‘Of course, Anthony treated poor Agnes appallingly. She was obsessed with him and he wrapped her around his little finger. And you know what? She was just as bad.’ Stacey popped the liberated chunk of scab in her mouth and chewed. ‘Now, your next question is, “Did she know I was shagging dear Anthony at the same time?” And the answer is: of course she did. He told her.’

‘He told her? ’