A sudden barrage of wolf whistles and off-colour comments were thrown in Rickards direction the constable looked mortified. He went even redder when Steel started talking about Jason Fettes bondage set. So, she said, as Logan clicked the screen onto a picture of the rubber romper suit, laid out on the incident room floor, we need to start asking around the sex shops and wherever else it is the bondage crowd hang. Like Ellon. And Westhill.
While the inspector spoke, Logan kept an eye on Rickards: it seemed as if he was about to say something, but thought better of it.
Current theory: this was a sex game gone wrong, so Fettes probably went home with this person of his own free will. Theres no blood at the victims house, so they must have gone to Mr Moustaches bondage bachelor pad. Click and the e-fit appeared.
Were pretty sure the victim was contacted through this site Steel paused, waiting for Logan to catch up the image behind her changing to a pink and black website called BONDAGEOPOLIS!. Fettes had an advert on there, the IT guys found a copy on his hard drive She paused and dug out a printout from the briefing pack, reading aloud: Real life porn star seeks switch for no-holds-barred action.
It was DC Rennie who stuck his hand up. Whats a switch?
Well, said Steel, lets ask our resident sexpert. She stared at PC Rickards, until he came out with, Its a BDSM term: someone who can be either dominant or submissive. Top or a bottom. Blushing furiously as most of the room started making bottom jokes.
OK, the inspector tipped the embarrassed constable a wink, thats enough out of- Rennies hand was up again. What now?
BDSM?
Bondage, Domination and Sadomasochism. Pay attention, for Gods sake. See Constable Rickards afterwards if you want a demonstration. More laughter. Gradually a sense of order returned, but the rest of the briefing was marked by giggles and sniggering. Now that this was death by misadventure rather than murder, it didnt seem quite so serious. When Steel called the meeting to a close, Rickards was the first one out the door.
You should go easy on him, said Logan as the last few people wandered off, I get the feeling hes not exactly seeing the funny side.
Oh for Gods sake! She rolled her eyes and dug out a packet of cigarettes, shaking them, then peering inside. What is it with bloody prima donnas in this place? OK, OK, Ill talk to him. Can I at least have a fag first?
While the inspector was off sacrificing a lung to the gods of nicotine, Logan went looking for Jackie, finding her in the same place as yesterday: covered in dust, down in the basement archives.
Hows it going?
She looked up and shrugged. Same shite, different day. You?
I got to tell someone their son had been killed.
Shite too, then. She scribbled something in her notebook then slid a set of case files back on the shelf. You hear about Macintyre? Hissing Sids got him an interim hearing. Says he has new evidence. Weve got to present tomorrow.
Tomorrow?
Tomorrow. Jackie slammed another box down on the concrete floor. Unbe-fucking-lievable isnt it? Things you can get away with if youre famous. She yanked the lid off and dropped it at her feet. I tell you, if that slimy lawyer bastard gets Macintyre off Im going to make his life a living hell. Him and Macintyre both.
Logan believed her. You want to go get something to eat tonight? We could try that tapas bar on Union Street? Get a bit squiffy? Go home and fool around?
Squiffy? What the hell is this, Five Go Mad in Mastrick? I dont get squiffy; I get paralytic, shitfaced, drunk. Maybe tipsy at a push. She grinned at him. But the rest of it sounds fine.
Only Logan never got that far.
Only Logan never got that far.
Half past seven and the rain was coming down like icy nails, bouncing off the rutted car park floor, misting in the headlights as Logan pulled up and killed the engine. The sun had set long ago, leaving behind a cold, bleak night; Brimmond Hill was a dark mass looming above them, only the winking red lights on the transmitter at the summit giving any indication of where the top was. And even then it was lost in the downpour most of the time. Alpha Two Zero was parked at the far end, blue and white lights rotating lazily, made fuzzy by the rain.
DI Steel sat in the passenger seat, listening to it drumming on the car roof. Buggering arsemonkeys. Were going to get soaked She pulled out a crumpled packet of cigarettes, automatically offering one to Logan, before remembering he didnt any more and lighting one up herself. She pointed her lighter at the burnt-out hulk sitting between the two cars. They sure its his?
Logan nodded, coughed, then rolled down his window, letting the smoke out. The steady hiss and clacker of rain hitting the gorse bushes, heather and potholes oozed in. The silly sods found the thing on Tuesday, didnt put two and two together because it wasnt blue. Which was fair enough, the burnt-out hulk was an off-grey-brown colour, mottled with black. They only ran the chassis number this afternoon so they could issue a fixed-penalty notice to the owner for dumping it here. Someone recognized Fettess name.
Steel swore. We could have had an ID two bloody days ago!
Logan just shrugged.
Someone clambered out of the patrol car opposite, turning up his collar and hurrying towards them, the rain drumming on his peaked cap as a dirty, battered-looking white Transit van bumped its way into the car park. The constable bent down and stuck his head through Logans open window. You want us to cordon off the scene before the IB get started? he asked, dripping.
Steel squinted at him through the smoke. No bloody point now, is there? Everythingll be washed away! Why the hell didnt you call it in when you found the sodding thing?
The constable shrugged. Dont look at me: I was off sick!
Fine, yes, go. Cordon to your hearts content. She scowled as he scurried off. Fat lot of bloody good thisll do us: damn thing looks like a charcoal briquette. You imagine any forensic evidence lasting through that, and all this? indicating the torrential rain.
Not really, no. But at least now we know that whoever did it is local.
Steel nearly choked on her fag. Come on then, Miss Marple, astound me.
They spotted the Volvo on Tuesday night, yes? That means it was dumped and burned on Monday night/early Tuesday morning. Whoever did it was able to get home from here without a car.
Grudgingly, Steel admitted he had a point Brimmond Hill wasnt exactly the middle of nowhere, but it was close anyone setting fire to the car they drove up here would be facing a long, slow trek into town. Kingswells? It was on the other side of the hill.
Maybe, but youd break your neck in the dark if you didnt know where you were going.
Aye, well, she said, as three IB technicians swore their way out of the dirty white van and started fighting with the blue plastic scene-of-crime tent, trying to get it up over the scorched wreck, theres no need to look so damn pleased with yourself it doesnt get us any closer to catching him, does it? She rolled down her window and pinged the last tiny nub of her cigarette out into the rain. Beginning to wonder if this whole case isnt a waste of time. Isnt like Fettes was battered to death, is it? He was into kinky sex. It went wrong. He died. She closed her eyes, pinched the bridge of her nose, and sighed. The poor sod on the other end didnt do it on purpose, did they? Can you imagine having to live with that on your conscience?
There was silence as they watched the IB getting drenched trying to protect trace evidence that probably wasnt there any more.
This is such a bloody waste of time, said Steel at last. Come on, lets get the hell out of here. If they find anything theyll call us.
They didnt.
11
Quarter to nine in the morning was far too early to be hanging about outside a licensed sex shop on Crown Street, waiting for it to open. But Logan didnt have any choice this was where DI Steel wanted to be. She was sitting in the passenger seat, munching her way through a packet of Bacon Frazzles, a tin of Irn-Bru sitting on the dashboard in front of her. A thin drizzle misted the windscreen, slowly turning the granite tenements a darker grey to match the sky. Logan yawned, covering his mouth with the back of his hand, then settled down into his seat, wondering if itd be OK to have a quick nap. Steel poked him in the shoulder. Heads up, she said, pointing through the windscreen at a small bald man with glasses, all bundled up against the cold, carrying a big bunch of keys.
The shop was discreet, just a frosted window with the words SECRET TIMES etched on it in powder pink. The little bald bloke hunted through his keys, then squatted down and took the padlock off the roller grille covering the entrance. They waited until hed unlocked the front door before climbing out of the car and into the cold drizzle.
Inside, Secret Times was lined with videos, DVDs and moulded latex. Mr Bald was in the process of peeling off his coat. Were no open till ten, he said, without a smile.
Now is that any way to greet a valued customer, Frank?
Eh? The man took off his rain-misted glasses, polishing them on the corner of his cardigan, before putting them back on again. Inspector Steel! How nice tsee you again. This time he did smile, showing off a huge number of perfect white teeth, as if theyd come out of a packet. He cast a quick look at Logan, then back to Steel, lowering his voice to a stage whisper: Ive no got that thing in for you yet. They say its still out of stock.
Steel shook her head. Im no here about that, Frank. I need to know if youve seen this bloke. She waited for Logan to pull out a copy of the e-fit picture baseball cap, round face, glasses, huge moustache, goatee beard.
The bald man took the picture and frowned at it. Fits he done?
None of your business. Recognize him? Hell be one of the BDSM crowd.
Frank peered some more then handed it back. Nope. But we get a few of them in here; you want I should ask around?
Couldnt hurt. She turned to leave then froze on the doorstep, turning back. And try lighting a fire under your supplier, eh? Im in my sexual prime here, no point wasting it, is there?