Steel scooted forward, until she was sitting right on the edge of the armchair. No a difficult question, is it, Markyboy? Where were you?
He puffed out his cheeks. Shrugged. Here, probably. I dont really like to go out much. After Mark Brussels cleared his throat. Well, its probably for the best. Probably. I mean, you hear stories, dont you? People on the register getting beaten up. He flapped a hand at the outside world. Then pressed his knees together. People on the register going missing.
She pulled out her e-cigarette and gave it a sook. Missing like Neil Wood?
Been a lot of that kind of thing going on. Kickings. Disappearings. Concerned citizens taking it out on poor sods like us.
Poor sods? She hauled out her list. Says here you abused girls as young as seven over a twelve-year period.
Logan rocked back and forwards on the balls of his feet. Whend you last get a supervisory visit, Mr Brussels?
The clock on the mantelpiece ticked into the silence. A small smelly terrier snored on its back in a tartan beanbag in the corner. A radio in another room, played saccharine boy-band pop. The floorboard creaked overhead as Nicholson crept about, pretending she was off to the toilet. Have to have a word with her about not sounding like an elephant in tap shoes.
Steel puffed out her cheeks. Come on, Markyboy, its like pulling teeth here. Whend you last get a visit from the Perv Patrol?
Well His eyes slid towards the zombie-grey gaze of the off television. They said I wasnt really a risk any more, so I could go to once every six weeks. To be honest, I miss the company. He stood. Can I get anyone a cup of tea?
Sounds like a load of old bollocks to me, Billyboy. Steel stuck her feet up on the low coffee table. Had a squint about. Someone like you, passing up a sweet young thing in a school uniform? Nah, thats no your style.
The man in the beige cardigan stared at her with striking blue eyes that lurked beneath heavy white eyebrows. Its William, not Billyboy, and Ill thank you to get your feet off my furniture. Spine ironing-board stiff, grey hair swept back from a high forehead. Its bad enough you turn up at this ungodly hour, the least you can do is have the civility not to treat my home like whatever kind of pigsty you live in.
Logan stepped forward. Perhaps-
No, no, no. Steel held up a hand. Billyboys got every right to moan if he wants to. She grinned at him with unnaturally white teeth. Pigsty, because were police officers. Very droll. Your file didnt say you were such a wit. She took her feet off the table. What it does say is youve got a thing for wee girls. Four to nine years old, wasnt it?
His face hardened a granite slab with a hooked nose. That was nothing more than scurrilous rumour. The whole trial was a farce from start to finish. A sick vendetta by a handful of ignorant troglodytes!
The sound of a toilet flushing rattled the pipes behind the wall.
Steel pursed her lips the wrinkles lined up to turn her mouth into a rouged cats bumhole. Good enough for the jury to give you eight years, though, wasnt it?
Vile lies.
What was it the tabloids called you? No, dont tell me Ah, got it: Dr Kidfiddler!
Yes, because that was helping.
Logan took out his notebook. Mr Gilcomston-
Doctor. Its Dr Gilcomston.
Dr Gilcomston, has anyone threatened you? Implied they were going to attack you?
Ignorance runs rampant throughout our society, Sergeant.
Steel rested her chin on her hands. And no ones tried to make contact? She fluttered her eyelashes at him. Maybe, oh, I dont know, someone like Neil Wood?
A pause. If youre implying Ive got anything to do with that pervert, I resent it.
The lounge door opened and Nicholson stepped into the room. Sorry about that. Must have been something I ate.
Gilcomston shuddered. Well, I hope you cleaned the bowl after you. I have no desire to clean up your filth.
That halogen smile broke across Steels face again. Filth! Another excellent police pun. Youre like Oscar Bleeding Wilde today, arent you, Billyboy?
Logan dropped his voice to a whisper. All Im saying is we might get on better if you werent so rude to everyone.
Steel settled into the leather settee, stretched her arms along the back. No bad here, is it? Wonder how much this place cost?
It was a Victorian pile on Church Street with big bay windows and a garden to match. Hunting prints on the wall, pine cones and potpourri in the grate, beneath an ornate marble fireplace. Upright piano. Glass-fronted bookcase full of leather volumes. Standard lamps holding the night at bay.
Dr Gilcomston-
Is a dirty scumbag. And hes no a doctor either got struck off after the conviction.
Nicholson folded her hands behind her back. Am I on piddling duty again?
Steel drummed her fingers on the tobacco-coloured leather. Got to play to your strengths.
She sighed. Wrapped her arms around herself. People will think Ive got cystitis.
The lounge door swung open and a large woman in a twinset sailed into the room like a lavender barge. Half-moon glasses on the end of her round nose. Only the pair of fluffy slippers, scuffing on the old woollen carpet, gave away the fact that shed been roused from bed a little after one in the morning. She lowered a tray laden with scones and cups and a teapot onto the glass-topped coffee table. Whos got cystitis?
Steel hooked a thumb at Nicholson. Been going all night like a leaky bathtub.
There was a small pause, then Nicholson rubbed both knees together. Actually, sorry to bother you, but could I ?
Theres one by the back door, or the top of the stairs on the left.
Thanks. And she was gone.
Mrs Twinset settled into a wing-backed leather chair. Now, is this about these stupid threats?
Logan took out his notebook. Threats, Mrs Bartholomew?
Yes, threats. Thrust through my letter box, like some sort of takeaway menu. You will burn in hell for everything that you have done. God will not save you. We are coming. That kind of thing. A snort. We are coming. Honestly, some people have no sense of propriety. Still, thats the age we live in, I suppose. She picked up the teapot. Now, shall I be mother?
Steel smiled. That no how you got into trouble in the first place?
A chubby rumpled face peered out at them through the gap between the door and the frame. Streetlights thickened the dark circles beneath his eyes as he looked them up and down. You got any idea what time it is?
Steel popped her wrist forward, so her watch poked from the end of her sleeve. Yup. Now you going to invite us in for a chat, or are we going to drag you down the nick?
Nicholson climbed into the car. How manys that now?
Logan started the engine. Eleven.
Pfff She sagged in the rear-view mirror. Your old boss is different.
DCI Steel paced up and down the pavement in front of the terraced houses, mobile phone clamped to her ear, puffing away on her e-cigarette. One hand flailed away, emphasizing whatever point she was making, even though there was no way whoever was on the other end of the phone could see it.
Oh, shes that all right. Logan stretched the knots out of his neck. On the plus side, we might have a new nickname for you.
Nicholson covered her eyes with one hand. Sarge, I swear to God, if Piddler is the next word out of your mouth, Im going to strangle you with your own limb restraints.
Nicholson covered her eyes with one hand. Sarge, I swear to God, if Piddler is the next word out of your mouth, Im going to strangle you with your own limb restraints.
A grin. Wouldnt dream of it.
She turned to stare out at the houses. A light was on in the flat theyd just visited, the curtains held open a figure silhouetted in the gap. Tall, thin, long hair. Then the curtains fell shut again.
Nicholson went on staring. Looked far too young to fiddle with little girls, didnt he? Barely out of nappies himself.
Still think its all glamour and glory on a Major Investigation Team?
Kind of thought itd be more A shrug. You know.
Steel hung up and stuffed the phone in her pocket. Stomped back towards the car.
Logan nodded. If its any consolation, youre following a long line of officers in a noble tradition.
Designated piddler?
I used to have to do it all the time. Oh, Im bursting for a pee, can I use your toilet? Then go rummaging through drawers and cupboards while whichever boss it was asked stupid questions.
Yeah Nicholsons mouth stretched out and down, the tendons sticking out in her neck. You wouldnt believe some of the things Ive found tonight. I mean, not kiddie porn or anything, but dildos, and lube, and rubbery things like Ping-Pong balls on a string. She curled her top lip. That doctor guy had a butt plug, a ball gag, and furry handcuffs. I mean, can you imagine him all oiled up and-
The passenger door clunked open and Steel tumbled into the seat. Produced her list of sex offenders and a pen, then drew a thick red line through the address of the young man who interfered with little girls. Right. Next up Windy Brae.
Logan stifled a yawn. Then tapped the dashboard clock. Thats twenty past two. Ive got court tomorrow, remember?
Worried youll no get enough beauty sleep? Trust me, that boat sailed when you got the shaved-scrotum haircut.
He opened his mouth Closed it again. Turned to stare at her. Why are you here?
Told you: trying to catch a wee girls-
Oh no you dont. This He pointed up at the flat. Trolling through the registered sex offenders? Thats no job for a detective chief inspector. Thats a sergeant, maybe DI at most.
She closed her door. Nothing wrong in taking pride in your work, is there?
You pissed someone off, didnt you? Thats why youre here: its a punishment. You said something you shouldnt to Finnie or Young.
Steel yanked the seatbelt down and rammed it into place. Oh sod off.
11
Logan checked his watch. Right, fifteen more minutes and were done.
Steel shuffled her feet as Nicholson thumbed the bell again. The cottage sat on the brow of a hill, overlooking the cliffs and the sea still and silent, washed like pewter by the thin smear of light from the crescent moon. Nothing but fields and gorse for miles.
A plume of e-cigarette steam snaked up into the starry night. You used to be a lot more fun.
Just because youre on nightshift, it doesnt mean we are too. Some of us have got court tomorrow. Supposed to get eleven hours between the end of any shift and having to give evidence; thats gone for a Burton.