A hedge separated this property from the next one. He leapt it, almost lost his footing on the other side. His shoulder bag slipped, thumped into the lawn. Tins of spray paint clattered across the grass like WWII bombs.
I said, come back here!
The Wee Sod risked a grin over his shoulder. Freckled face, no more than twelve. Maybe thirteen. Curly red hair and dimpled cheeks.
Then THUMP Nicholson slammed into him from the side with the kind of rugby tackle that wouldve done the nation proud at Murrayfield.
They went careening across the lawn in a tumble of limbs, coming to rest in a clatter of pots and gnomes.
Logan slowed to a jog, then a halt as Nicholson scrambled to her feet, then hauled the Wee Sod upright by his hoodie.
She spat out a blade of grass. When someone yells, Stop, police! you sodding well stop.
He wriggled a couple of times, didnt get anywhere, then hung limp.
Well? She gave him a little shake. Whatve you got to say for yourself?
He bit his top lip. Then shrugged. Its a comment on our political elite and the disenfranchisement and disengagement of the common man. His voice tried out three octaves along the way.
Spray-painting willies on a Conservative Party billboard doesnt count as political commentary.
Does too.
She pushed him at Logan, then dragged out her notebook. Name?
He tensed, as if he was about to bolt again. Logan grabbed him by the shoulders. You want a go in the handcuffs? Because I can arrange that.
He looked up, over his shoulder. A blush filled in the pale skin between his freckles. Youre not going to tell my mum, are you?
Nicholson poked him with her pen. Name?
I mean, they lord it over us from Edinburgh, dont they? Our political masters. No one really cares what we think any more. Were like drones to them, only instead of honey they grow fat on our taxes.
Logan pulled his chin in. Our taxes? Youre, what, thirteen? When did you last pay any tax?
Workers control the means of production.
Nicholson poked him again. Youve got one more chance, then Im doing you for refusing to give your details. Now: name?
He took a deep breath. Stared down at his trainers. Geoffrey Lovejoy. Then a sniff, and his head came up again, eyes glinting. Im a political prisoner. I demand you call the United Nations. Power to the people!
Logan looked up from his notebook. And youre sure youd recognize her again if you saw her?
The shopkeeper nodded, setting a crowd of chins on a Mexican wave. Absolutely. She had half a dozen bottles of Chanel Number Five, a handful of Touche Éclat concealer, Elizabeth Arden, and every single bit of Paco Rabanne we had on display! He swept a hand towards the other side of the chemists, where the front door was being held open by a little old lady wearing a plastic headscarf. Scooped them up and ran off without so much as a blush. Our Stacey chased her, but A shrug.
Nicholsons stabproof was beginning to look as if shed smeared it with camouflage paint green grass stains mingling with the mud from their run-in with the escaped cow. It wasnt a good look. She pointed at the security camera bolted to the wall behind the till. You get it on CCTV?
A blush swept across the puffy cheeks. Its plastic. I bought it off eBay for a fiver.
Nicholson pointed. Is that not Liam Barden?
On the other side of the road, a chubby man in an Aberdeen Football Club shirt walked into the Co-op.
Logan frowned as the automatic door closed, hiding the man and his bright-red shiny shirt. You sure?
Certain. She parked outside the shop. Well eighty percent. You got the ID sheet?
He dug into the glove compartment and came out with four creased sheets of A4, stapled together. Two photos on each sheet, along with names and details of when and where they went missing. Liam Barden was on the third page: grinning away at a Caley Thistle match, both thumbs up, and what looked like a gravy stain splodging the Orion Group logo on his blue-and-red football top. A wee gold thistle glinted on a golden chain around Liams neck. Very classy. A proper Ratners special.
Liam shared the printout with a picture of everyones favourite drug-dealing scumbag, Jack Simpson jagged tribal tattoos on his neck, sunken cheeks, pierced nose and ears.
Hed also grown a Hitler moustache, a pair of glasses, Frankensteins Monster bolts, and a blacked-out tooth. There was even a speech balloon with I HAS A SEXY!!! written in it.
For Gods sake. Logan held the sheet out. How many times do I have to tell people not to draw things on missing persons photos?
Dont look at me: dont even own a blue biro.
How would you feel if one of your relatives went missing and someone scrawled all over their picture? Jack Simpsons a nasty wee git, but he deserves the same treatment as everyone else.
It wasnt me!
Like working with a bunch of three-year-olds
Still: had to admit that the photo of Liam Barden did look a bit like the guy whod gone into the store. Heavyset, balding from the back, toothy smile. Only problem is, whats happened to his moustache?
Maybe he shaved it off? Nicholson unbuckled and climbed out into the sunshine. Pulled her hat on. You coming?
And whys he dumped Inverness Caley Thistle for AFC? Logan joined her on the pavement. Held out the sheet again. See?
She frowned at the picture. Not illegal to support more than one club. Besides, think how stoked his wife and kids will be if we find him.
Which was more than could be said for Jack Simpson. Missing for ten days already and not even his mum wanted him back. If he hadnt owed his granny money, he probably wouldnt even have been reported missing.
Logan turned the page. And why does no one update these things? He rummaged through the zip-pockets on his stabproof vest. Frowned. Took out his notebook. Put it away again. Sodding Hector. He held out a hand. Lend me a pen?
She handed one over and Logan drew a thick X over the face of a little boy on the bottom of page four. We found Ian Dickinson four days ago.
You take my word for it next one you can score off is Liam Barden. Nicholson straightened her cap and marched into the Co-op.
Logan took a lick of his ice lolly, working his way through the raspberry coating to the cheap vanilla inside. Sun warm on the back of his neck. Well, it was worth a go.
Could have sworn it was him. Nicholson worked her left arm around in a circle Cornetto making chocolaty dribbles in her other hand as they wandered down the hill.
Hows the shoulder?
A shrug. Still say we shouldve arrested the vandalizing wee sod.
Then wed have to take him all the way to Fraserburgh for processing, and thats you and me off the streets for at least two hours. With Deano and Tufty still up the hospital, whos going to look after the good people of Banff and Macduff?
Thats not the point, hes-
All the kid did was draw a big willy on a billboard. Some people might think our prospective Conservative MSP looks much better with a big willy sprayed all over him. At least Citizen Geoffreys taking an interest in the political process.
Four bleeps sounded from his Airwave handset. Sergeant McRae?
Another lick of lolly. Go ahead, Maggie, safe to talk.
Are you forgetting someone?
They crossed over to the other side of the road. Am I?
The reply came back as a hiss. Inspector McGregor! I told you, she needs to do your appraisal.
Damn. How pissed-off is she?
A wee dog barked and barked and barked as they passed, pogoing up and down behind a little wrought-iron gate.
You said youd be back here by twenty-to. And its nearly five.
Were Another lick of lolly, catching an ice-cream tear. Were in the middle of something here, Maggie. Cant we reschedule for tomorrow?
Silence.
Around the corner and onto Low Street with its bars and shops and cafés.
Maggie?
You want me to dignify that with an answer? And youre supposed to put in a word for me how are you going to do that if shes in a foul mood?
OK, OK. Tell her half past five.
Past the Cats Protection League and the whisky shop.
All right. Ill try. But make sure youre not late. Maggie signed off.
The gift shop next door had obviously started selling papers, because a little folding placard thing sat on the pavement outside it: LIVERPOOL SHOOTING ~ PICTURES EXCLUSIVE.
Hed barely got the Airwave back in its twisty holder when the handset bleeped again. Sarge? Aye, its Dean. Safe to talk?
Deano. You and Tufty finished at the hospital yet, or are you planning on skiving the whole shift?
Still there, Sarge. Got a missing person for you.
Another road led off to the right. Long, thin, dark, and claustrophobic. Rows of terraced buildings on either side, tall enough to block out the sunshine and leave the patchy tarmac blanketed in shadow. Raw grey walls and dark slate roofs. The occasional one painted with aging whitewash standing out like a filled tooth in a broken mouth. Do you mean youve found someone whos missing? Or that someone else has disappeared?
Aye. One Neil Wood, owns a B-and-B on the Shortgate Lane, Peterhead. His dad says Woods been gone for three, maybe four days.
So take his details. A bite of lolly, before it collapsed off the stick, then Logan froze. Pointed with his other hand.
Up ahead, loitering in the doorway of a boarded-up shop was a stick-thin woman in a baggy T-shirt and pink tracksuit bottoms. Filthy Ugg boots on her feet. Roll-up cigarette cupped in her hand as if it was going to give away her position to snipers in the enemy trenches.
Nicholson squinted. You jammy sod.
Not jammy, Constable, skill.
Sarge? You still there?
Look, Deano, youve been doing this longer than I have. You know the drill you take his details and fill out a misper form. And maybe we find him, and maybe we dont. Its not-
The old boy who got a kicking in Whitehills is Neil Woods dad. Seems the guys did it because of who his son is. Turns out Neil Woods a stot. Did eight years for abusing kids in Tayside. Got out of Peterhead, couldnt go home, settled here. Bought a B-and-B and moved his dad up from down south to live with him, cos the old guys got heart problems.
And now hes disappeared.
Which is why Im not just filling in a form.
Thats all we need.
The woman turned her back, one hand scratching away at the crook of her arm, making the cigarette smoke curl and coil around her fingers. Couldnt be long until she spotted them.