Close to the Bone

The corridor was jammed with uniformed and plainclothes officers, all staring straight ahead at something hidden by the press of bodies. Another cheer.

Logan tapped the nearest PC on the shoulder.

Guthrie turned and grinned at him, a Babybel mini-cheese half unwrapped from its red wax coating in his hand. His pale eyebrows shot up above two watery red-rimmed eyes. ‘Isn’t this great? ’ He bit the tiny cheese in half.

‘What are you all doing? ’

Guthrie nodded towards the crowd, chewing with his mouth open. ‘She’s posing for photos. Of course, half these idiots haven’t a clue, they just think she’s the woman who got her kit off in Three Dead Men, but she’s done some excellent indie films.’

‘And she’s posing for photographs? ’ Logan dragged in a deep breath. ‘GET BACK TO WORK, YOU BUNCH OF MORONS! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE POLICE OFFICERS!’

He pushed his way into the crowd. ‘You heard me: get out of it!’

Moans. Pouting. Grimaces. ‘Aw, but, Guv. .’

‘Back to work! Go on!’

Slowly they drifted away, slouching and scuffing their feet, until the only ones left were Logan, a shuffling PCSO with a porn star moustache, and Morgan Mitchell.

Her bright-red hair shone in the overhead light, turquoise eyes surrounded in layers of dark makeup, a CSI New Orleans T-shirt and blue jeans, high-heeled boots. She smiled at him. ‘Inspector Logan, hi. Did you come for a photo? ’

Logan glowered at the PCSO. ‘You better have a bloody good explanation for this, Andy.’

‘It. . I thought. . It. .’ He cleared his throat, then looked at Morgan. ‘Erm. .? ’

‘It was my idea. Thought the troops could do with a bit of a lift. And I don’t mind, you know, long as no one tries getting to second base.’

‘Andy, if your prisoner’s not in her cell in thirty seconds, a bollocking from Professional Standards is going to be the least of your worries.’

‘Yes, Guv. Sorry, Guv.’ He wiped his hands down the front of his white short-sleeved shirt, then took hold of Morgan’s arm. ‘If you don’t mind, Miss. .? ’

She went in without a fuss, grinning back at Logan as the door clanged shut, hiding her from view.

Andy shuffled his feet. ‘It wasn’t really a big deal, I mean she’s not getting preferential treatment or nothing like that, it was just a couple of pictures for-’

‘Shut up. What’s she in for? ’

‘Yes. .’ He scurried off to a shelf on the wall and came back with a clipboard and a whiteboard marker. Then printed the words ‘MORGAN MITCHELL ~ ASSAULT’ on the little A5-sized board beside the cell door. ‘Look, it really wasn’t-’

‘I’m pretty sure you’ve got something important to be getting on with, Andy. So I’m going to count to three.’

‘But-’

‘One.’

‘It really-’

‘Two.’

‘Erm. .’ Andy stuck the clipboard under his arm and hurried away, shoes squeaking on the concrete floor.

Logan closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was like working in a sodding primary school.

Then he slid back the hatch in the cell door.

Morgan stood in the middle of the small space, arms out, nostrils flaring, rocking gently from side to side as she did a slow-motion pirouette. When she was facing back towards the door again, she lowered her arms and smiled at him through the little hatch. ‘I like a man who knows how to take charge.’

‘You think this is funny? ’

She flipped the scarlet curls back from her face. ‘You wouldn’t arrest me, so I had to improvise.’

‘By assaulting someone.’

‘Thought you would’ve loved getting me in a pair of handcuffs.’ She bit her bottom lip. ‘I can be very naughty.’

‘And this film you’re doing next, is it worth getting a criminal record for? ’

She just smiled at him.

Perfect. Logan stared back. ‘Let me guess: tomorrow, just as you’re about to go up in front of the Sheriff, whoever it was you assaulted is going to miraculously drop the charges. No criminal record. No problems getting in and out of the country.’

‘Witchfire is a really important stepping stone for my career. I turn in a great performance here and next time I’m the one playing the lead in the Hollywood blockbuster. I’ll get to pick and choose my projects. I’ll get to work with legends.’

‘Not if I do you for wasting police time, you won’t.’

‘You know, when Nichole and I found out we were going to be in Witchfire, the pair of us arranged to stay with this coven in Wyoming. They’ve got a compound way up in the hills, where “The Man” can’t get at them. And we learned what it’s like to be a witch in real life.’

‘Wasting police time is an offence.’

‘Did you know voodoo dolls have got nothing to do with voodoo? They originated in Europe: “Hubble, bubble, toil and trouble.”’

‘Who did you bribe to say you assaulted them? ’

‘You see, that’s what it takes to turn in a really great performance — you have to throw yourself into the character, not just turn up and drone out your lines like an amateur. You have to inhabit the part: live it. That’s what makes the difference between-’

Logan slammed the hatch shut. Bad enough they had genuine criminals out there without the cells being full of nutjobs getting themselves arrested for the fun of it.

Her voice came through, muffled from the other side. ‘So. . you want to take a raincheck on those handcuffs? ’

45

Logan stuck his feet up on his desk, a cup of tea in one hand, his paperback copy of Witchfire in the other, while the speakerphone rang and rang and rang.

‘You’ve reached Lorna Chalmers. I can’t come to the phone right now, but you can leave a message after the beep.’

‘It’s half three: where the bloody hell are you? ’ He leaned over and stabbed the red button, hanging up.

No joy from her mobile, and no joy from the number for the flat she was renting on Jasmine Terrace either.

He tried Rennie instead. ‘You heard from Chalmers yet? ’

Rennie’s voice boomed out from the speakers. ‘Course not. Why should her holiness have to come into work like the rest of us plebs? Probably hung-over, kneeling on some dirty old man’s bathroom floor, with her knickers round her ankles, vomiting lobster-and-chips all over the porcelain.’

‘Yes, very funny. Tell me, Detective Sergeant, have you found your missing tramp yet? ’

A pause. ‘Actually. . it’s a bit complicated. I-’

‘Then you’re in no position to be a smartarse, are you? Get on to Control — I want the nearest patrol car sent round Chalmers’s flat. Unless she’s dying of flu, I want her in here right now.’

‘Gah. .’ Logan pulled a face, then spat the cold tea back into the mug. He moved it across to the other side of