There was someone in the bath, lying facedown, skin all blackened and swollen. Crawling with little white things where the bodys shoulders protruded from the water.
Franklin stepped up beside him. Christ...
Yeah.
And then some.
9
Callum stuck his notebook back in his pocket, stepping out of the stairwell and into the drizzle. The view hadnt improved, if anything it was worse. Low cloud and mist hid everything on the other side of the river, reduced the MacKinnon Quay to little more than a collection of random shapes.
The whole world rendered in shades of grey.
Getting dark too.
Oh no... He checked his watch: just gone half six. The Polish deli would be closed. No pickled cucumbers, onion rolls, or anything else.
So much for Elaines cravings.
Yeah, he was going to be popular when he finally got home.
He scuffed along the path then down the stairs to road level, made his way past patrol cars and manky Transit vans. Someone had finger-painted a big willy in the dirt across the back doors of one, complete with hairs.
McAdams shiny red Shogun took pride of place in front of the Willymobile, engine running, inside lights on. Callum limped over to the thing and slid onto the back seat. Closed the door on the cold dreich evening. God, its perishing out there.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Mother took a sip of something in a large wax-paper cup. Well, well, well, if it isnt Detective Constable MacGregor.
He sighed. What am I supposed to have done now?
Her sidekick turned the blowers down and turned in his seat. You kicked in the door. Didnt call for permission. You should know better.
Youre very welcome, Sarge. Callum cupped his hands over the heater mounted between the seats, trying to get some feeling back in his fingertips. If it wasnt for me youd still be investigating odds and sods I brought in a murder, OK?
Mother still hadnt turned around. What makes you think its a murder, Callum? Man falls over in the bath, drowns, happens all the time.
And did he accidentally drown in the bath, before or after dragging a big sheet of plasterboard and two tubs of paint in front of the bathroom door? Callum poked at the heater. Can you turn this thing up?
McAdams fiddled with the dashboard and warmth flowed. What about the door-to-doors?
He produced his notebook. Sixty-three flats in the immediate vicinity. Twenty-four of them did nothing but complain about their neighbours, thirty-one wouldnt answer the door or werent in, and nine want their hats re-tinfoiled. Not one of them had a single thing to say about Glen Carmichael or his mates. Shrug. Well, other than the downstairs neighbour complaining about Led Zeppelin playing on a loop, full blast, for the last two days.
Interesting... Mother tapped her fingers along the wax-paper cup. Officially, I should reprimand you for breaking into a crime scene without authorisation, Callum, but our new girl put her hand up to it. Said you were dragged along against your better judgement.
McAdams snorted. I didnt even know you had one.
So you, my little man, may have a sweetie. Mother dug into her pocket and produced a bag of jelly babies. Held them out.
Callum helped himself to a green one. Thanks.
She put the bag away. I always love this bit. Forensics are going through the scene, we dont know who the victim is, theres a killer on the loose. Excitement. Adventure. And... She frowned. Cant remember the end of the quote, but you know what I mean.
McAdams nodded. The main plot is unfolding. What we need now is a flashback from the killers perspective then some sort of investigative montage to show how much research the writers done. He clicked his fingers again. Constable MacGregor, get yourself and your new best friend DC Franklin back to the lair. I want a murder board ready to go by... Im in the mood for pizza, so call it an hour and a half. And get a lookout request on the go for Glen Carmichael and his two mates while youre at it. Most people stick to rubber duckies in their bathtub, a dead body requires a bit more explaining.
Ah. Sarge, I was kinda hoping to go home and
Oooh. Mother made a sooking noise. And you were doing so well, Callum. I even gave you a jelly baby.
Time to be a team player, Detective Constable.
His shoulders slumped. Yes, Boss.
Yeah, Elaine was going to kill him.
The wet road hissed beneath the pool cars tyres.
Franklin frowned out of the window. I thought Division Headquarters was that way?
Technically, yes. Callum took a right at the roundabout, heading back along the boundary between Castleview and The Wynd. Just got a quick errand to run first.
Oh for Gods sake. She closed her eyes. Is this what its going to be like, Constable? All moaning and wee errands?
Oh for Gods sake. She closed her eyes. Is this what its going to be like, Constable? All moaning and wee errands?
Five, ten minutes tops. I swear. After all, the traffic wasnt too bad for a Tuesday. Someone stole my wallet this morning. A guy might have it at a shop in Kingsmeath.
A sigh. A shake of the head. Thought you were supposed to be a police officer.
I was trying to save a little girls life: that OK with you? Up and over the Newton Bridge, and back into Blackwall Hill again, with its modern sprawl of cul-de-sacs and middle-class housing estates.
By losing your wallet?
Past the lights, the road opened up into dual carriageway, everyone sticking to the outside lane to avoid Oldcastle City Councils award-winning collection of potholes. I didnt lose it, it was stolen.
This isnt helping us put a murder board together.
Well be fine.
Theyre only going for pizza, we
Ive done loads of murder boards: itll be fine. Trust me.
She pursed her lips. And why on earth would I do that?
Fair point.
Montgomery Park drifted by on the right-hand side, a bunch of big white marquees with tartan stripes already sprouting on the grass around the boating lake.
OK. Full one hundred percent honesty time: the reason everyone hates me, is they think Big Johnny Simpson bribed me to sod-up a crime scene so hed get off. But I didnt. Not a penny. Ever.
She frowned at him. Is that supposed to make me feel better? That youre incompetent instead of corrupt?
Im not incompetent!
Could have fooled me.
Fine. I was trying to share, but why dont you just sit there in sulky silence. See if I care. He clicked on the radio. Let it drown out her pouting.
... headline the main stage on Saturday, of course, its Oldcastles very own Donny Sick Dawg McRoberts! Donny, my man, good to have you in.
A fake London patois burst out of the speaker, not quite good enough to conceal the Kingsmeath burr underneath. Yah, its Sick Dawg, right? Donnys what me foster mum called us, and you aint my mum, bro.
Ha, ha. Right. Yeah, I got you, man. Respect. Sick Dawg it is...
The massive Blackburgh Roundabout loomed before them. Burgh Library sat on a hill in the middle, all lit up like a 1960s idea of a spaceship glass and concrete, curving walls and wonky rooflines. The Kingsmeath side of the roundabout was ringed by seven massive tower blocks, eighteen-storey headstones soaring above a scrubby patch of woodland. More 1984 than Star Trek.
So, Sick Dawg, welcome to Deathbed Discs on Castlewave FM, where we find out what tracks youd take with you to the grave. And youre kicking us off with Stan from Eminems fourth album, The Marshall
Yah, I been thinking about it, right? And Im-a not about that no more.
Callum swung the pool car around the outside lane, then took the first turning into Kingsmeath.
It was as if someone had turned down the lights, leaving the buildings in gloom. Rows and rows of council houses. Tenements. Grey faces and grey buildings.
Youre not?
Nah, man. I go to my grave Im not gonna be surrounded by stuff from the oldtimers, you know what Im sayin? Nah: Im-a play my own stuff, bro. You know, from the heart.
OK...
An old couple stood on the pavement, screaming at each other, a wee dog cowering on its lead as they yelled.
Well, why dont we just play the song anyway. Itll give us time to completely abandon all the music your publicist told us you wanted to talk about and reprogramme the whole show...
Fake rain clattered out of the speakers, followed by Dido singing over a heavy bassline.
Franklin made a little growling noise then jabbed her hand out and turned the radio off. Bloody rap music.
After that she kept her mouth firmly shut all the way through the bleak housing estates, past a dilapidated playing park the swings and roundabouts reduced to slumped blobs of fire-blackened plastic past Douglas on the Mound with its scaffolding-shrouded spire and vandalised graveyard...
It wasnt until Callum pulled into a potholed car park that she opened it again. Is this it?
The car park was bordered on three sides by what were probably billed as single-storey retail units with excellent potential! but looked more like something off the news when a riots just passed through. Three of the eight were boarded up; all were covered in a tattoo of graffiti; all had the kind of metal grilles over the window that were meant to roll up out of the way, but probably spent all their time firmly locked in the down position. A newsagents, a chip shop, a convenience store that looked about as welcoming as a shallow grave, a charity shop, and right at the far end: Little Mikes Pawnshop. The sign above the frontage boasted, WE BUY AND SELL ALL MANNER OF THINGS! CASH FOR GOLD! PAYDAY LOANS AT EXCELLENT RATES!!! EST. 1995!
Callum parked in front of it. Wont be long.
Oh for... Youre here to redeem some manky family heirloom?
Five minutes. Promise. He climbed out into the rain. Ducked his head and hurried inside.
The door made an electronic bleep-blonk noise as it swung closed behind him. Shelves lined the walls, packed with other peoples things. Free-standing display units turned the shop into a labyrinth. Old video game consoles, a collection of musical instruments, microwaves, hairdryers, boxed cutlery, vases, what looked like a brass urn with IN MEMORY OF AGNES MAY ~ BELOVED MOTHER engraved on it. All of it marinating in the gritty stench of dust and mildew.
Callum picked his way through the maze to the counter, where a wee fat man was bent over a copy of the Castle News and Post. His white shirt was just a bit too big for him, the collar and cuffs stained and frayed. A maroon waistcoat with buttons missing and brown stains down the front. Bald head glinting in the shops dim lighting.