Crap. . The footsteps stopped right outside the pathologists office.
Logan spun around on the spot. Had to be somewhere to hide in here. Behind the filing cabinet? Not enough space. Under one of the desks?. . Yeah, and how would he explain that when they caught him? Looking for a contact lens?
Might be worth a go.
He pulled out the nearest chair-
The door swung open and he froze, halfway into a crouch.
Guv?
Logan looked up, and there was Rennie, frowning down at him.
You OK, Guv? Only you look like youre about to curl one out on the floor there.
Heat bloomed in Logans cheeks. I was just-
Should probably pull your trousers and pants down first though, a grin broke across Rennies face, going to be hell of a mess otherwise.
Logan stood. Did you want something, Sergeant?
See, if I was going to take a dump in someones office, Id do it in their desk drawer. Or in the filing cabinet, under J for jobbie, that way its all organized and-
Rennie!
Oh, right. Yeah. He stood to one side and swept his arm out in a grandiose gesture, as if he was a magician introducing his glamorous assistant. Got a Dr Graham here to see La Monarch De Iceberg.
A woman stepped past Rennie, into the room. Short, big smile, tiny diamond earrings twinkling between strands of long blonde hair. Big brown boots, blue jeans, and a pink twinset. Petite and girly. She stuck out a thin hand for Logan to shake. It was like an industrial car crusher. I hear you need a forensic anthropologist?
Already?
Logan took his hand back while it still worked. Youre keen: we only put the call out an hour ago.
She flashed him a smile that made little crows feet around her eyes. Are you kidding? Jobs like this are hens teeth: had to get here before any other bugger did. Forensic anthropologys a cut-throat business.
Dr Graham-
April, please. She shook her head. I blame the telly they show all these glamorous actors running about the place, solving murders, then everyone and their dog thinks, Hey, why dont I train to be one of them bone people? Seriously, you cant throw a brick these days without braining two dozen unemployed forensic anthropologists.
Thats very-
You know, she frowned up at him, you shouldve put some ice on that, it wouldve brought the swelling down. Might be too late now, but its probably still worth a go. Trust me: if theres one thing I know, its being punched in the face.
Logans fingers stroked the side of his swollen nose. OK. .
Are the remains ready? She got a step closer. Id really like to get cracking as soon as I can.
He backed away, until the desktop dug into the back of his legs. Retreat no longer an option. Theyre through the house. .
Good stuff. She spun around, as if she was mounted on castors. Right, lead the way, and we- Her pillow-sized handbag swung out as she turned, caught Isobels china mug and sent it flying.
It hit the carpet tiles with a delicate ping, then shattered into a dozen glinting fragments.
April stared down at it, mouth hanging open. She cleared her throat, clutched at the demon handbag, kneaded at the tan leather. Oh God. . It was an accident. She shuffled sideways, into the filing cabinet. It. . Ill pay for it. I didnt mean to break it.
Rennie hunkered down and picked a shard up between thumb and forefinger, dropping it into his palm. Dont worry, its just-
No, you dont understand, it. . Theyre just waiting for me to screw something up, so they can barge in and take over.
Logan leaned back against the desk. They?
The other forensic anthropologists. I told you it was cut-throat, didnt I? Im good at my job, and it was an accident, and-
Its OK. We didnt see anything, did we, Sergeant?
Rennie dropped another sliver into his palm, then shook his head. Mug? What mug? Was missing when we got here, someone probably nicked it. Bunch of thieving bastards round here.
April smiled at them, eyes shining. Thanks.
Rennie picked up the last of the shards. Dont thank us we didnt do, or see, anything. He went to tip the remains into the wastepaper basket.
Logan hit him. Dont be thick shes going to look there, isnt she? Wrap it in toilet paper and dump it in the gents bin. Then go see if anyones caught Reuben yet.
A wink. Got you. And he was off, cradling the shattered mug like a baby bird.
Logan ushered April out into the corridor. So, what, you just happened to be in the area?
She followed him through the double doors into the cutting room. It was on the news this morning. So I jumped in the car and called your pathologist met her at the Forensic Society conference at RGU two years ago. In this job, it pays to network.
The doors whumped closed behind them, letting the air wrap them in its chilly arms. Not quite cold enough to make their breath plume, but close.
Overhead strip-lights glinted back from the stainless-steel work surfaces, cutting tables, and wall of refrigerated drawers. White tiles clicked beneath Logans shoes as he marched over and read the labels slipped into the little holders on the doors. UNKNOWN VICTIM: MURDER ~ 003613 was second from the bottom on the left. He clacked up the handle and hauled the drawer out.
April looked down at the white plastic body-bag. Are forensics finished with trace evidence?
Yes.
Everythings done?
Just said that, didnt I?
Good. In that case. . She snapped on a pair blue nitrile gloves, took hold of the body-bags zip and pulled it down.
The scent of raw meat and scorched barbecue oozed out into the cold room.
Hmm. . I know it sounds daft, but its so nice to get a fresh one. Normally, the smell of them. . She peered down at what was left of the head, up on her tiptoes, then down again, then left and right, as if she was expecting it to do something. Not touching anything. I need a practising medical professional with five years experience, and youll have to sign a release.
Isnt my body. He looked at the mortuary doors. If Dalrymples about, she can do it.
Theres a fair bit of work to be done. . April headed for the nearest cutting table and dumped her demon handbag on it, popped open the clasp and went rummaging inside while Logan went off to find the Anatomical Pathology Technician.
You see, thats the real trouble. . April slipped the blade through the last strands of tendon and eased the head away from the body. Shed changed into an orangey-grey sweater, the turtleneck pulled up over her nose and mouth, like a makeshift facemask. Britains too small remains get found too quickly. What you want is somewhere like America, or Australia, dump your victim out there and itll stay hidden for years.
She placed the head down on a white plastic tray. It rocked a couple of times, then lay there, screaming up at the ceiling with its cracked yellow teeth.
Logan adjusted his mask. How longs this going to take?
On the other side of the room, the duty doctor sat in one of the chairs dragged through from the staff room. Dr Ramsey: a short man in a baggy suit, with a threadbare goatee beard, chubby cheeks, a mini-quiff at the front and a bald patch at the back; Ramsey had his feet up on an empty brain bucket, and his head buried in a copy of the Aberdeen Examiner. MAN BURNED TO DEATH IN SICK NECKLACING MURDER in big black letters above a photo of the Joyriders Graveyard out by Thainstone Mart. Well, you could always move.
Dont get me wrong: Ive thought about it a couple of times, but Id miss Scotland too much. All that sunshine and warm weather just isnt natural. Mind you, must be nice not to have to fight for every single job.
Dr Graham: how long?
The forensic anthropologist glanced up at him. Well, Ive got to remove the residual skin, clean the skull, work out the correct tissue depth, add the markers, model the musculature, then the skin, hair. . Like I said, its a fair bit of work, but obviously Ill go as fast as I-
A loud bang came from outside, in the corridor: the mortuary door slamming against the wall. Then a voice: WHERE THE BLOODY HELL IS SHE?
April wrapped her gloved hands around the head. Bared her teeth. Dempsey.
BOOM and the cutting-room doors flew open. A man stood on the threshold, his round face flushed and trembling. Two streaks of grey ran back across his head from the temples, as if hed been a badger in a former life. It went with the yellowy-tweed suit. He jabbed a sausage finger at April. You unprofessional bitch!
Rennie stumbled in after him. If you dont calm down, sir, Im going to have to-
He spun around. Dont let her fool you: this is my job, not hers. Shes got no business being here.
April cradled the head against her chest, pressing the scorched flesh into the off-orange fabric. Thats not fair, Jack, I got here first.
I have an agreement! He threw his chest out, shoulders back. And its Doctor Dempsey to you, Graham. He dug into his jacket and pulled out a sheet of paper. See? The local pathologist called in my services, not yours. Now put down my remains and go peddle your clumsy excuse for forensic anthropology somewhere else.
Still holding the head with one arm, she grabbed the clipboard from the cutting table. Ive got a release, do you have a release? No, you dont.
Dont you Ive got a release me: you only got that under false pretences. This is my job and you bloody well know it!
Rennie took the sheet of paper from Dempseys hand and peered at it for a moment. Then looked up at Logan. Its from Pukey Pete. Blah, blah, blah, Dr Peter Forsyth cordially invites you to assist with the identification of an unknown male found last night suffering from severe burns to the head, neck, and chest. .
See? I told you: this is my job. He beamed, teeth bared, eyes narrowed to piggy little slits. Now sling your hook, Graham.
April brought her chin up. I was asked to come by Dr McAllister.
Well I was asked first.
Raised voices echoed down the corridor, the noise amplified by all the cold hard surfaces in the cutting room. Rennie peered through the gap between the doors. Theyre still going at it.
Pffff. . Logan hissed out a breath, then leaned back against the corridor wall. Any news?
Blank look. Then a blink. Oh, right: Reuben. No. Theyve tried his house, Wee Hamishs place, the garage in Mastrick, all the bookies he runs, the docks. . Shrug. Hes gone all ninja on us.