He grabbed his coat from the hook by the door. Enjoy your paperwork.
Park your arse. She pointed at the visitors chair on the other side of the desk. Soon as Disaster McPhersons finished screwing things up in Holyrood, you can go back to being a lowly defective sergeant. God, youre such a drama queen.
I am not a drama-
You dont see me whingeing on about running CID till Finnie returns from his wee jolly to Malaga, do you? Even though the sodding ACCs down here every five minutes bitching about the budget and the rotas and the overtime bill? No: because Im a team player, one of the lads, knuckling under and getting the job done like a pro. She had a dig at the underside of her left breast, scratching and tugging at the bra-line. Course, the extra cash helps.
Logan stared at her. You got a pay rise?
Scowl. Dont change the subject. You, Logan Bum-Face McRae, need to get your act sorted. Being a DIs no about running all over the place, arresting people and getting punched in the nose: its about taking a strategic overview, staying in FHQ at the centre of your wee web of influence and organizing things, making the best use of the available manpower. And solving bloody cases!
Like you ever-
Now get your backside in gear and go see those poor missing kids parents!
Silence settled into the room, then a hiss and click as Steels electric cigarette gave another puff of steam.
What happened to, being a DIs no about running all over the place?
Parents need to see a senior officer, no some junior idiot in uniform wiping their nose on their sleeves. And if youd done something about it in the first sodding place, you wouldnt be in this mess. She chucked his warrant card back at him. Now sod off before I decide to motivate you some more.
In the main CID office a lone detective constable was bent over the fax machine, cursing and swearing as she pounded away at the keypad. Other than her, the place was deserted: most of the dayshift would be down at their lockers already, getting changed to go home or hiding so they wouldnt have to answer the phones and get dragged into anything at five to five on a Sunday evening while the backshift were off actually doing things, leaving the little corrals of chest-high partitions and scuffed beech desks to sulk unloved beneath stacks of forms and reports, empty sandwich wrappers and dirty mugs.
Logan tried the small walled-off annex at the side of the room the one with a brass plaque mounted on the door: THE WEE HOOSE. Someone had stuck a Post-it note to the thing, with CONDEMNED FOR PUBLIC HEALTH REASONS! scrawled across it.
Inside, DS Bob Marshall was frowning at a pile of receipts and an expenses form. His desk looked as if a stationery cupboard had thrown up on it. A big orange-and-black biohazard sign was mounted on the wall in front of him. As if anyone actually needed any warning. .
The other three desks were almost tidy, no sign of their owners, just the shelves laden with box files and manuals, the whiteboards covered with case lists for each DS complete with notes and dates.
Bob scribbled something down on his form. If youre here to moan about them not catching Reuben yet: dont. Its sod all to do with me.
Logan slumped into his old familiar chair, the one with the wobbly castor and the creaky hydraulic thing, and the coffee stain on the seat that always made it look as if hed had an unfortunate accident. Loved that chair. He ran a hand along the rough plastic armrest. Youre a jammy sod, Bob.
Mmm. . He didnt look up. Think I can claim for that bottle of whisky I bought for the Levinston stakeout?
Being a detective sergeant. OK, so youve got to put up with all the crap from the DCs and Uniform and run around after the DIs like youre their nanny but its not bad, is it?
Maybe I can kid on its for an informant?
Logan swivelled left and right, then back again. The bearings groaned underneath him. Just like the old days. . Youre not allowed to have unregistered informants: anything Chiz-related would have to go through the Secret Squirrel Squad. Put it down as a teambuilding expense under Finnies Forward To Tomorrow cost-code. By the time he gets back from Malaga no one will remember what it was meant to be used for anyway.
Ta. Bobs biro scribbled something down on the form.
Logan creaked the seat around in a full circle, drawing his knees in at the last minute to avoid the leg of the desk. See, thats what Im talking about: youre out on stakeouts with a bottle of Glenfiddich, and Im up to my ears in spreadsheets, cost centres, and budget plans. I remember when-
Yeah, being dragged about, moaned at, and told to do stuff is just great. At least you get a shot at being DI, whens my go? He grabbed another receipt from the pile and scowled at it. You want anything in particular, or are you just slumming it for fun?
Going out to the Garfield and Chung houses fly the flag for community policing. Hydraulics go up, hydraulics go down, hydraulics go up.
The missing kids? Bob stood and picked a beige corduroy jacket off the back of his chair. Suppose you want me to drive.
Logan stopped playing with the chair. Narrowed his eyes. What did you have for lunch?
Bob pulled the jacket on. Why?
Bob. .?
Cauliflower and lentil curry from that wee place on Belmont Street.
Which explained the Post-it note on the door.
In that case, you can stay here and finish your expenses. No way Im sharing a car with you.
Thats discrimination.
Self-bloody-preservation more like.
The Wee Hooses door opened and DS Chalmers marched in, carrying a stack of printouts, glasses perched on the tip of her nose. She smiled. Keeping it warm for me? Pause. The chair? Then dumped the paper on the desk behind him.
Right: not his chair any more. Not his desk. He stood. Its your lucky day, Chalmers instead of sitting here being gassed to death by Biohazard Bob, Im rescuing you. Grab your jacket, weve got parents to visit.
Agnes Garfields mother glowered at them from the doorway. Well, perhaps if youd done something when we told you she was missing, shed be home by now. Her long brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she fiddled with the ends, teasing them apart with yellow-tipped fingers. A smoker. But instead of stale cigarettes she stank of Ralgex and spearmint.
Posters festooned Agnes Garfields bedroom walls: brooding vampires with greasy hair, mono-browed werewolves, Harry-Bloody-Potter. . Then there were a few for books that looked as if theyd been lifted from the local Waterstones: The Night Circus, Golden Compass, Witchfire, Narnia. . One wall was completely given over to bookshelves stuffed full of paperbacks, the occasional hardback sticking out like a tombstone.
Posters festooned Agnes Garfields bedroom walls: brooding vampires with greasy hair, mono-browed werewolves, Harry-Bloody-Potter. . Then there were a few for books that looked as if theyd been lifted from the local Waterstones: The Night Circus, Golden Compass, Witchfire, Narnia. . One wall was completely given over to bookshelves stuffed full of paperbacks, the occasional hardback sticking out like a tombstone.
The window was open a crack, letting in the scent of freshly mown grass and the smoky promise of a back-garden barbecue from somewhere nearby. Agness room was at the back of the house, with a view out over the rooftops towards the sprawling housing estates of Danestone on one side, and rolling countryside on the other. Fields of violent-yellow rapeseed shone like burnished gold in the evening light.
Logan stepped back. The computer desk in the window recess didnt have a single piece of clutter or dust on it. And they havent been in touch at all?
Agness mum stuck her chin out. If they had, wed have said something! Think we kicked up all this fuss trying to get you to do something because we thought it would be fun?
Girls that age. . well, theyre not girls any more, are they? Eighteen years old: theyre adults.
Our Agnes would never run away from home. She loves us. Shes safe here. She knows that. The yellowed fingers pecked at her hair, like jaundiced crows going after roadkill. Its that bloody Anthony Chung. Hes done this. Abducted her. I said so, last time you were round, but you didnt do anything about it, did you? Bloody police. .
DS Chalmers patted her on the shoulder. Were going to do everything we can, Mrs Garfield.
Agness mother scowled at her. Dont you patronize me. If youd taken us seriously and done something in the first-
Why dont you leave us to it for a bit, and well come down when were done?
The chin went up again. You wont find anything. Ive been through this room a dozen times, theres nothing here. Agnes has no secrets from me. You need to be out there, hunting down that bloody Chung!
Chalmers smiled, showing off those pointy little teeth. I know, but you want us to be thorough, dont you? Well be down soon as were done.
A sniff. A thinning of the lips. Then she jabbed a finger at Logan. If hed done his job when he came here, instead of drinking tea and eating my biscuits, shed be home by now. A nod. Agness mum backed out of the room and slammed the door.
Pffffff. . Logan sank down on the single bed. The wooden frame creaked, the mattress sagging beneath him. Before you say anything, it was DI McPherson. Sent me out here, told me to poke about a bit, reassure them, then get back to solving actual crimes. Course, then he gets seconded to the Scottish Parliament on the Force Integration Project as if they didnt have enough bloody numpties screwing things up already and hey presto, suddenly its my problem.
He glanced up. . The roof was covered in pale-yellowy-green and white stars. Had to be hundreds of them up there, filling the ceiling from edge to edge. Oh to be young and daft again.
Chalmers poked her way through the bookshelves. Whenever my mother hated any of my boyfriends, it just made them more appealing. Even Hamish Campbell with his big teeth and stickie-out ears. Dad hated him too, and after that Id have run away with him in a heartbeat. .
The bedside cabinet contained a mix of hankies, granny-pants, and a tiny collection of cheap jewellery each piece individually wrapped in tissue paper. Logan slid the last drawer back into place, then pushed aside the little troupe of fluffy toy animals to peer into the gap between the mattress and the wall. Nothing.