Sod. He let his head rest against the gritty wallpaper. At least the ants were fading away. Fancy a cup of tea?
You sure we should just leave them alone? What if they start smashing things up?
Why do you think I locked the remains back in the fridge? Anyway, if they break anything, Isobel will hunt them down and kill them. Logan pushed the door to the pathologists office open. Get the kettle on, and. .
Dr Forsyth was hunched over his desk, cheeks glistening with tears as he packed files and personal effects into a large cardboard box. Out of his rumpled SOC suit, he was still. . rumpled. A small man with a neatly trimmed beard and a pair of thick glasses in NHS-black frames. He flinched. Stared at Logan for a breath, then went back to clearing out his desk.
Rennie grabbed the kettle from the top of the filing cabinet and gave it a shoogle. It barely sloshed. Afternoon, Doc. Fancy a brew?
Im. . I handed in my resignation.
Ah. Right. Rennie backed out into the corridor again, pointing towards the cutting room. Ill fill the kettle, get it on, and we can all. . have a nice cuppa.
Logan waited until the door closed behind him. Are you OK?
A sniff. No. Thats the point. He wiped a sleeve across his eyes. I cant do this any more. All the pain and the suffering and the relatives and the press and the courts and the bloody press. .
A smile. You said press twice.
Did you know they doorstepped me for that Rubislaw Den murder? Right outside my house. I was taking Natasha to playgroup. . He dumped a box file in on top of some pilfered Post-it notes. Ive tried so hard to keep what I do separate, and they do something like that? He wiped his hand across his cheeks, then dried it on the leg of his trousers. And the smell. I wash and I wash and I wash and it never comes off. .
Logan nodded. Im sorry.
A knock came from the office door. Dr Ramsey was blinking at them from the corridor. Turns out some shoplifters fallen down the stairs in the custody block. He pointed over his shoulder, back towards the bulk of FHQ. If Tweedledee and Tweedledum ever stop shouting at each other, let me know.
Thanks, Doc.
Anthropologists. . Ramsey rolled his eyes, then sloped off, shoes scuffing on the floor.
Dr Forsyth hurled another manila folder into the box, following it up with one more for every word: Just cant take it any more. He picked the box up, cradling it in his arms as if it were a severed head. And all the time theyre telling us to cut costs, as if what we do is. . He trembled, flecks of spittle frothing in the corners of his mouth. Like were sitting about drinking coffee from golden mugs and eating bloody chocolates. A shrug. Sorry. Its just. .
He lowered his head and shuffled from the room. As he opened the door, the raised voices came through again:
Oh, dont give me that, Graham, youve always been jealous of my success!
Im not arguing with you about this, Dempsey. I was here first.
Dr Forsyth looked back over his shoulder. Please. . A frown. Tell Isobel I stuck it for as long as I could.
Its my bloody job! Now pack up and bugger off!
My life coach says I have to-
Life coach? What kind of bloody idiot-
Im not arguing with you about this, Dempsey. I was here first.
Dr Forsyth looked back over his shoulder. Please. . A frown. Tell Isobel I stuck it for as long as I could.
Its my bloody job! Now pack up and bugger off!
My life coach says I have to-
Life coach? What kind of bloody idiot-
The door clunked shut again.
Rennie backed into the room, carrying the kettle in one hand and a packet of Jaffa Cakes in the other. He waggled the orange-and-blue box at Logan. Creepy Dalrymple didnt lock her locker. Whats the point of hiding things in your locker if you dont lock it? He stuck the kettle onto its base and flicked the switch. Clues in the name.
Logan scrolled through the messages on his phone, deleting all the rubbish most of which came from Steel. Mmm. .
Exactly. Rennie clunked a couple of mugs down on the desk. Its gone all quiet out there. Think theyve kissed and made up? Bet theyre at it on one of the cutting tables, getting their forensic anthropology freak on. Jumping each others bones.
No wonder Steel never had any time to do her own paperwork, she was too busy sending pointless text messages. Delete. Delete. Delete.
Logan looked up from the little screen. The ACC still on a rampage?
Nah, gone home. Its Her Nibs youve got to worry about. The kettle rattled away to itself, grumbling steam out into the room. Guv. . this jewellery heist. .
Here we go. Logan put his phone away. You were asleep. We got a confession.
Yeah, but I put in all the work and its not-
Never is.
But it isnt fair. And look at this. . He pulled out his notebook, flipped it open, and held it up. Someone had written FIND THOSE BLOODY TRAMPS, YOU LAZY WEE BAWBAG!!! above a list of three names and a crude drawing of male genitalia. The handwriting was obviously Steels. Rennie clacked the thing shut and stuffed it back in his pocket. She drew a cock in my notebook. What am I supposed to do if Ive got to produce it in court? Think the judgell be impressed?
The kettle clicked, then fell silent.
She keeps lumping these crappy make-work jobs on me. How am I going to make my mark, if she keeps-
Make your mark?
A blush spread across his cheeks. Well, its. . You know what I mean.
No wonder she drew a dick in your notebook; lucky she didnt do it on your forehead. Anyway, you should be happy.
He picked up the kettle and filled the mugs. Ha bloody ha.
She did the same thing to me. In her twisted little mind, its her way of singling you out. Testing you. Logan patted him on the shoulder. Dont know how to break it to you, but youre her favourite.
Rennie sagged. Oh God. .
Oh yes. Say goodbye to getting home at a reasonable hour, and hello to bizarre calls in the middle of the night.
More sagging. And how come Im the one stuck hunting down tramps? Its not like Hairy Mary, Scotty Scabs, and Fusty Forman did anything serious: two blokes and an auld wifie shoplifting cheese, bacon, and vodka doesnt really count as organized crime, does it?
And you can forget about seeing Emma. But get ready for lots and lots of questions about your sex life, even though youre never home in time to actually have one.
Probably drunk themselves to death weeks ago. Theyll be lying dead in a ditch somewhere, covered in smoked streaky and Cheddar, getting all mouldy and fusty. . A shudder. Bad enough when they do it in winter, but in this weather? Rennies bottom lip poked out. Cant we get the GED to look for them?
Logan smiled. Trust me: soon as our beloved colleagues in the General Enquiries Division find out that Steels lumped you with finding these guys, theyll disappear faster than you can say, Someone elses problem. Logan fished his teabag out and dumped it in the wastepaper basket. Besides, theres only three of them. Dont be such a wimp.
Rennie ripped open the Jaffa Cakes, then tipped out a half-dozen brown flying-saucers onto the desk. Its not three any more, its two. Got Hairy Mary in the mortuary found her under the Wellington Bridge with a bottle of turps in one hand and her knickers round her ankles.
Sexual assault?
A shake of the head. Call of nature, from the state of her. He bit a Jaffa Cake in half, talking with his mouth full. Poor cow. Imagine going out like that? Everyone seeing you? He chewed, then swallowed. You want to take a look at her?
Dirty bugger. Logan pulled in his chin. Do you really think thats appropriate, because I-
No! Not look at her with her knickers down. . I mean take a look and make sure Im not screwing anything up?
Oh. That was OK then. Dont be such a big Jessie.
Come on, Guv. . He popped the final Jaffa Cake in his mouth and fluttered his eyelashes. Please?
Sigh. This is the last time, understand?
A grin. Thanks, Guv!
Rennie was right the corridor was quiet, not so much as an angry murmur coming from the cutting room. Logan pushed through the double doors. . and stopped.
Dr Dempsey was sitting flat on his wide tweed bum in the middle of the room, both hands clasped over his nose, while Dr April Graham skipped back and forward in front of him, knees bent, feet barely moving. Fists up in classic Muhammad Ali pose.
She threw a couple of sharp right jabs into the air, making little puffing noises. Told him to stop pushing me.
9
Logan shifted the hot mug of coffee from one hand to the other, wedging the manila folder under his arm as he struggled with the doorknob. Down the corridor, the main CID office was noisy: the dayshift coasting towards quitting time, the backshift grumbling about all the jobs theyd been lumbered with on a Sunday evening.
Click, and the handle finally turned. He pushed through into his own private sanctuary- Crap.
Detective Chief Inspector Steel was sitting in his chair, feet up on his desk, electronic cigarette clamped between her teeth puffing artificial smoke into the room. Where the hell have you been?
He dumped the mug on the desk, then swatted at her feet with the folder. Out.
She didnt move. Did I no tell you about those bloody teenagers?
For Gods sake, theyre shacked up somewhere, banging each others hormone-addled brains out. Its not-
I dont give a badgers hairy arsehole if theyre on Jeremy Kyle with My Girlfriend Wont Swallow: I told you to get your finger out and visit the bloody parents and at least look as if youre doing something.
They-
No. She slammed a hand down on the desk. This isnt a debate, its an order. Finger out now. You made the ACC look a right prawn.
You know what? Sod it. He pulled out his warrant card, in its little leather holder, and tossed it into her lap. Im with Doc Forsyth: screw this for a game of soldiers. I never asked you to make me up to DI, did I? No, I was quite happy where I was, but you had to have someone to run around after your backside, doing all your bloody paperwork.
There we go. She checked her watch. Lasted a whole two weeks as acting DI before threatening to flounce off in a strop. Thats a record for you. Was starting to worry youd grown up a bit.
Im serious.
Oh, dont be such a big girls blouse.
Ive had enough.
Moan, moan, whinge, bitch, moan. Now I know where Rennie gets it from. She flipped open the little leather case and peered at the warrant card within, holding it out at arms length. Jesus, theres a face only a proctologist could love.