How well did you know Bruce, Miss Marsden?
Please, call me Tiggy. We used to role play together: AD amp;D, a bunch of us, you know, got a group together in first year. Most of them just drifted away But Bruce hung in till last Christmas too much studying to do. I like Bruce. He was a good friend, you know?
And did he ever speak to you about drugs?
For real? No way. Bruce is going to be a doctor She looked down at the shredded paper in her hands. Was going to be a doctor. He was super smart, theres no way hed risk getting kicked out of uni.
Did he say anything to you in the last couple of weeks? Anything that might explain why he did it?
Her shoulders quivered. I shouldve done something. I mean, whats the point of doing psychology if you cant even help a friend? He was always working, you know? Always had his head in a textbook, never went to the pub She bit her bottom lip, blinked, then rubbed a hand across her eyes. Im sorry
Logan sat back in the plastic chair and watched her sniff. That was the trouble with psychology students, the little sods were being taught how to manipulate other people. Of course, they didnt call it that, they called it Neuro-Linguistic Programming, and things like that. The kind of thing Rennie was trying to pull with the sex offenders.
So, you knew Alison McGregor, eh? Mustve been hard for her single mum, studying, raising a little girl, rehearsing, being on the telly?
She rolled her eyes and laughed, a short, brittle sound. Oh God, yes. But she was terrific, seriously, like a total inspiration. We were thick as thieves, Alison and me, complete BFFs. Used to crib each others lecture notes, if one of us couldnt make it and that.
Uh-huh. Logan wrote the word LIAR next to Tanya Marsdens name in his notebook. Every single student hed talked to had sworn they were Alison McGregors bestest friend. Jumping on the D-lebrity bandwagon and fighting over the seats: look at me, I know the kidnapped woman and her tortured daughter!
I cant believe this happened The tears were back. Theyll let them go, right? Alison and Jenny? I mean, theres got to be millions in the fund by now thats got to be enough.
She was just the best person Id ever met. Jade Shepley sighed. Wow. To just, I mean, imagine what she must be going through. She furrowed her brow. Barely nineteen and she was already wearing a twinset-and-pearls, hair cut into a sensible bob, Velma-from-Scooby-Doo glasses.
Her room was decorated with yet another collection of posters: Audrey Hepburn Breakfast at Tiffanys; a kitten in a tree SOMETIMES MONDAY LASTS ALL WEEK; and a couple advertising am-dram musical productions.
Its such a horrible thing to happen. Poor Alison Jade lent closer and lowered her voice to a whisper. We were best of friends, you know.
Oh no, I cant think of anyone whod want to hurt her. Phillipa McEwan blinked, bit her bottom lip, stared at her hands. Alison was just the loveliest person in the whole world. She was always popping past to talk about how her day went, or borrow a book or something. Posters: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix; Zebedee from the Magic Roundabout; Einstein sticking his tongue out. Theres not a day I dont pray for her.
Actually, she was a complete bitch. Stephen Clayton sprawled in the rooms only seat, leaving Logan to stand. Posters: Coldplay; Yoda; U2; David Tennant getting his sonic screwdriver out, with the TARDIS in the background signed; and the classic Jurassic Park logo. A remote-control Dalek sat on the floor, next to a wastepaper basket overflowing with scrunched up empty Cheesy Wotsits packets.
Clayton cracked open a tin of Red Bull and gulped at it. Belched. Skull-and-crossbones earring, T-shirt with cannabis leaf motif, stud in the nose, blond hair down to the middle of his back.
Ooh, look at me, Im such a rebel. And why was that?
Clayton curled his top lip. Why do you think? Always swanning about like she was fucking royalty. His voice jumped an octave. Oh, Im on TV, Im so special, so much better than the rest of you ordinary little plebs. Bitch. He brushed the hair from his face. Stuck up, holier than thou, lying, two-faced bitch.
So predictable. She turned you down. Logan tried not to smile. Like she was such a fucking catch with a wee kid in tow. Who wants lumbered with that? Another scoof of caffeinated sugar. Was doing her a favour.
Yeah, you and your grow-your-own-moustache kit. So, this kidnapping thing: you think she deserved what she got?
Claytons face soured. Youre kidding, right? When they let her go shes going to be worse than ever. Everyonell be falling over themselves to lick her arse, like shes Richard Hammond and Princess Fucking Di all rolled into one. Getting kidnapped was the best thing that ever happened to that manipulative cow.
No, I didnt know Bruce had killed himself. Thats Thats just terrible. Craig Peterson sat on the end of the bed and stroked the little tuft of beard that clung onto his chin. Throw in the big nose, floppy curly brown hair and furrowed eyebrows, and he looked like a vaguely disappointed goat. Posters: Reservoir Dogs; Hitchcocks North by Northwest; War of the Worlds the Orson Welles version, not the Tom Cruise one; Marc Caro and Jean-Pierre Jeunets La Cite des Enfants Perdus. I mean, I knew hed been a bit stressed recently what with trying to catch up with his coursework and Tanya dumping him but suicide? Why wouldnt he come speak to me? He mustve known I could have helped him.
Tanya? Logan flipped a few pages back in his notebook. Tanya Marsden?
More beard stroking. Likes to call herself Tiggy for some reason. I tried to tell Bruce she wasnt his type, but loeil de lamoureux est aveugle a tout defaut.
Oh, to be young and pretentious.
So Tanya Marsden and Bruce Sangster had been an item shed kept that quiet.
I see Logan underlined the word LIAR next to her name a few more times.
Moliere it means the lovers eye is blind to all fault.
Does it now. He moved on a couple of pages and wrote PATRONIZING PRICK next to Petersons. Did he ever say anything to you about drugs?
Well Off the record?
Logan smiled. No.
I wouldnt want his parents to get the wrong idea, they had very high hopes for him.
But?
Where do you stand on the subject of cannabis, Sergeant? Logan just stared at him, letting the silence stretch.
A big sigh. Look, Bruce might have said something about hooking up with a woman when he was down in Dundee at one of those Dungeons and Dragons conventions last year. This person Bruce always called her Stumpy the Dwarven Queen was getting him cannabis, amyl nitrate poppers, maybe some speed if it was coming up to exam time and Bruce needed to cram. And Bruce always needed to cram.
Stumpy the Dwarven Queen?
Peterson folded his arms, then crossed his legs. Look, Im really not comfortable talking about a dead friend behind his back, so if youd like to save the sarcastic tones until you get back to the station, Sergeant, thatd be fine with me.
Sarcastic tone, Mr Peterson? I think youll find Im just trying to get to the bottom of a suspicious death. Surely thats worth treading on a few sensibilities?
Sarcastic tone, Mr Peterson? I think youll find Im just trying to get to the bottom of a suspicious death. Surely thats worth treading on a few sensibilities?
The students nose came up. You cant tread on sensibilities, you have to offend them.
Logan smiled. If you insist: where were you yesterday afternoon between the hours of twelve and five?
What? His eyes went wide. My God, youre actually serious. You think Bruce was murdered?
And if you can give me the names and addresses of anyone who can confirm your whereabouts, thatll be a great help. You arrogant little prick.
There was a bit of bluster, some self-righteous indignation, but eventually Peterson handed over the details of two friends who were with him most of the day watching DVDs and being pretentious. Logan took down the details. Now: tell me about Alison McGregor.
Peterson opened his mouth, puckered his forehead, then clamped his lips together. Sorry?
You were in the same psychology class as her.
Well, yes I mean, I went over all this with an Inspector McPherson-
And now youre going to go over it again. Logan shifted forward in the seat, getting close enough to make Peterson edge back, until his back was up against the wall.
I never really knew her. I mean, I knew who she was well itd be difficult not to when theres paparazzi hanging about outside the lecture theatre but we never really talked. I tend to be very campus orientated, and she lived on the other side of town, so I didnt really see that much of her. Outside lectures and tutorials. Maybe a couple of times in the library. He rubbed a hand at the side of his neck. Its terrible, whats happened, but I didnt really know her. She seemed really popular?
Logan just sat there and stared at him. Lots of friends? Especially when there were photographers about. I think some of the girls had a pool running on who could get their faces in the papers the most. You know, by talking to her while she was being snapped
More silence. Erm He licked his lips. Look, I never really knew her, OK?
I see. Logan didnt move. And Ive got studying to do. So if theres nothing-
The Danse macabre blared out from Logans pocket. He pulled it out and hit the button. McRae.
Sarge? Rennie. Where are you? Im in the car park.
Logan glanced up at Peterson. It wouldnt hurt to take the patronizing little sod down a notch or two. Yes, Im speaking to him now.
Eh? You in the pub already?
No, he claims he, Loan checked his notebook, smothered a smile, never really knew her.
Knew? Ah I get it. OK.
Thats right. Says he has an alibi for the Bruce Sangster death too.
Peterson shifted from cheek to cheek. I got everything you wanted from the archives, so Im out at Hillhead, ready to crack the McGregor case!
Logan stared at Craig Peterson until the student looked away. No, I think Ill take care of it personally.
Where do you want me to start?
Stay where you are. Logan hung up and slid the phone back in his pocket. Then stood. Well be in touch, Mr Peterson. He leant forward, looming, and the student shrank back again. Dont leave town; remember Ill be watching you.
Rennie leant back against a filthy Vauxhall, pink face raised to the sun, hands in his pockets, little white cables dangling from his ears, eyes closed.
Logan poked him in the shoulder. How did you get a pool car?
Eh? He took out his earbuds. Oh, hi, Sarge. Did he cough? Whoever you were noising up?
Bloody Eric told me all the cars were booked!