DS Chalmers pulled out a police-issue notebook and flipped it open. Call came in at eight twenty, anonymous well, mobile phone, but its a pay-as-you-go disposable. Unidentified male said there was a bloke on fire with a tyre round his neck and that out by Thainstone Mart.
Frown. Why didnt the local station take it?
She grinned, showing off sharp little teeth. You snooze, you lose.
Cocky and ambitious with it. Well, if thats the way she wanted to play it: he swept an arm out at the collection of burned-out vehicles. I need you to get every car here identified. I want names, addresses, and criminal records of the owners on my desk first thing tomorrow morning.
She gave him a stiff-lipped smile and a nod. I am determined, nothing will stop me. Im on it, Guv.
Good. Logan pushed himself off the VW Polo. And you can start with this one. Or didnt you notice it was still warm?
The smile slipped. It is? Ah, its-
Was it burning when you got here?
I dont-
Details, Sergeant, theyre important.
Only I was. . I thought the dead man. . I was getting everything sorted and. . A blush pricked across her cheeks. Sorry, sir.
Get the SEB to give it a once-over before they go. Probably wont find anything, but its worth a try. He struggled out of the oversuits lower half, then swore as a tinny rendition of the Imperial March from Star Wars blared out of his phone. Didnt even need to check the caller ID to know who it was.
Logan hit the button. What now?
A pause, then Detective Chief Inspector Steels smoky voice rumbled in his ear. Have you still got me ringing up as Darth Sodding Vader, cos thats no funny!
Logan pressed mute. Sergeant, I thought I asked you to get those vehicle IDs.
She kept her eyes on her shoes. Yes, sir.
He smiled. Well, it wouldnt kill him to throw her a bone. You made a good FAO: keep it up. He pressed the mute button again. Now bugger off.
Spluttering burst from the phone. Dont you dare tell me to bugger off! Im head of sodding CID, no some-
Not you DS Chalmers. He shooed her away, then shifted his mobile to the other side, pinning it in place with his shoulder while he unzipped the rest of his oversuit. What do you want?
Oh. . A cough. Right. Wheres that bloody paperwork?
Your in-tray. Did you even bother checking? Or did you just-
No the overtime report, you divot, the budget analysis.
Oh, I thought you meant where was my paperwork. You know, the paperwork Im actually supposed to do, as opposed to your paperwork.
Bad enough Ive got all this shite to sort out without you throwing a strop every time youre asked to do a simple wee task-
Look, Im at a murder scene, so can we skip through all the bollocks to the actual reason you called? Was it just to give me a hard time? Because if it was, you can-
And what about those bloody missing teenage lovebirds? When are you planning on finding them, eh? Or are you too busy swanning about with-
Which part of Im at a murder scene do you not get?
-poor parents worried to death!
For Gods sake, theyre both eighteen theyre not teenagers theyre adults. He shuffled his way out of the blue plastic booties. Theyll be shacked up together in an Edinburgh squat by now. Bet you any money theyre at it like rabbits on a manky futon.
Thats no excuse for dragging your heels bloody womans mothers been on the phone again. Do I look like Ive no got anything better to do than run around after your scarred backside all day? A loud sniff rattled down the phone. Pull your sodding socks up: youve done bugger all on that jewellery heist last night, theres a stack of outstanding hate crimes. . And while were on the subject: your sodding mother!
Thats no excuse for dragging your heels bloody womans mothers been on the phone again. Do I look like Ive no got anything better to do than run around after your scarred backside all day? A loud sniff rattled down the phone. Pull your sodding socks up: youve done bugger all on that jewellery heist last night, theres a stack of outstanding hate crimes. . And while were on the subject: your sodding mother!
Ah, right: here we go. The real reason. Logan scrunched the protective gear up into a ball and dumped it in the bin-bag taped to the remains of an Audi. Im not her keeper, OK?
You tell that bloody woman to-
I said dont invite her to Jasmines dance recital, but would you listen to me? Noooooo.
-sodding paisley patterned Attila the Hun! And another thing-
A huge mud-spattered Porsche Cayenne four-by-four growled to a halt on the rutted track, behind the SEB Transit van. Clunk and the headlights went off, leaving the driver illuminated in the glow of the dashboard. Mouth a thin grim line, nostrils flared, eyes screwed into slits. Brilliant, it was going to be one of those evenings.
-in the ear with a stick!
Logan held up a hand and waved at the Porsche. Got to go, Pathologist number twos up.
Laz, Im warning you, either-
He hung up.
Dr Isobel MacAllister stuck both hands against the base of her spine and puffed. Her SOC suit swelled in front, as if she was shoplifting a floor cushion. She hauled back the elasticated hood, showing off a puffy, rose-coloured face framed by a droopy bobbed haircut that looked a lot more functional than glamorous. Did you really just ask for a time of death?
DS Chalmers nodded, biro hovering over a blank page in her notebook.
Isobel turned to Logan. Shes new, isnt she?
Just transferred down from Northern.
Lord preserve us from the Tartan Bunnet Brigade. Isobel unzipped the front of her suit. The body appears to have been necklaced rubber tyre placed over the head and one arm, making it impossible for the victim to remove, then the outer surface is doused with paraffin and set alight. Death is usually caused by heat and smoke inhalation, leading to shock and heart failure. That can take up to twenty minutes. She wiped a hand across her shiny forehead. Its a popular method of summary execution in some African states.
DS Chalmers scribbled something in her pad. Then looked up. And Colombia too. I saw this documentary where the cartels would chain the guy up on an overpass, fill the tyre with petrol and light it. Everyone driving home would see them hanging there, burning, so they knew what would happen if they screwed with. . She cleared her throat. Why are you all staring at me?
Isobel shook her head. Anyway, Ive-
A car horn blared across the clearing.
She stared at the sky for a moment. Gritted her teeth. Tried again: As I was saying, Ive-
Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
Oh, for Gods sake, I cant get five minutes to myself, can I? Not even five minutes. She jabbed a finger in the direction of her Porsche four-by-four, took a deep trembling breath, and let rip. SEAN JOSHUA MILLER-MACALLISTER, YOU STOP THAT THIS INSTANT!
Silence.
A wee face peered over the dashboard, big eyes and dirty blond hair. Then a flashing grin.
Breeeep! Breep! Breeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep!
Isobel hauled off her gloves and hurled them onto the ground. You see what happens? Do you? And will Ulrika get deported for it? Of course not: well be lucky if she even gets a slap on the wrist. Isobel stomped off towards the car. YOURE IN BIG TROUBLE, MISTER! Shedding the layers of SOC gear as she went.
DS Chalmers shuffled her feet. Well, that was. .?
They caught the au pair nicking things. Logan pulled out his phone. And consider yourself lucky the last person who asked for a time of death? She made them help her take the victims temperature. And the thermometer doesnt go in the front end.
3
Midges bobbed and weaved in the glow of a SEB spotlight, shining like tiny blood-thirsty diamonds. In the middle distance, Tom Jones had given way to ABBAs Dancing Queen. Logan stuck a finger in his ear and shifted a couple of paces further away from the grumbling diesel generators. What? I cant hear you.
On the other end of the phone, DCI Steel got a notch louder. I said, what makes you think its drugs?
Might not be, but it looks like an execution. Well know more when we get an ID on the body: my moneys on a scheemie drug runner from Manchester or Birmingham.
Sodding hell, thats all I need: some flash bastard knocking off rival dealers like its a performance art. Silence. Then a plastic sooking sound. No way Im carrying the bucket on this one.
Thought that was the point of being in charge of CID?
Sometimes shite flows uphill, Laz, and this ones got Assistant Chief Constables Oversight written all over it in black magic marker. Let him deal with the members of the press.
The SEB tech whod taken him to see the body shuffled into view, holding one corner of what looked like a crate wrapped in miles of thick blue plastic. It was big enough to take a kneeling man chained to a metal stake. She grimaced at him. Budge over a bit, eh? This is bloody heavy. .
And by members I mean-
Got to go, the Procurator Fiscal wants a word. Which was a lie shed left nearly half an hour ago.
Oh no you dont: youre no going nowhere till you tell me where we are with that bloody jewellery heist. You think you get to dump all your other cases just because youve got a juicy wee gangland execution on the cards?
Investigations are on-going, and-
Youve done sod all, havent you?
Ive been at a bloody murder scene!
The SEB hauled their blue plastic parcel through the graveyard of burned-out cars, swearing and grunting all the way, feet kicking up a cloud of pale dust from the parched earth.
Well, whose fault is that? Youre a DI now: act like it! Park your arse behind your desk and organize things send some other bugger off to play at the scene.
Rotten, stinky, wrinkled, bastarding. . Youre the one who told me to come out here! I wasnt even on duty, I was having my tea. He pulled the mobile from his ear and glared at it. Concentrate hard enough and her head would explode like an overripe pluke on the other end of the phone. BANG! Brains and wee bits of skull all over the walls.
Er. . Guv? DS Chalmers tapped him on the shoulder, a frown pulling one side of her face down. Are you OK? Only youve gone kinda purple. .
Logan gritted his teeth, put the phone back to his ear. You and I are going to have words about this tomorrow.
Sodding right we will. Im no-
Logan gritted his teeth, put the phone back to his ear. You and I are going to have words about this tomorrow.
Sodding right we will. Im no-