Davidson shuddered. Eventually we give in and go downstairs. The kitchen was clarted in blood... and Wiseman... Wiseman made us sit in the lounge while he cooked tea... He looked up at them, his eyes rimmed with red. Jamies book says Crispy Pancakes, but it was liver. His dad couldnt stand the stuff, wouldnt have liver in the house. So where do you think Wiseman got it from? There was another long pause. Then Richard Davidson stood and wrapped his arms around himself. Id like to go back to my cell now.
Davidson shuddered. Eventually we give in and go downstairs. The kitchen was clarted in blood... and Wiseman... Wiseman made us sit in the lounge while he cooked tea... He looked up at them, his eyes rimmed with red. Jamies book says Crispy Pancakes, but it was liver. His dad couldnt stand the stuff, wouldnt have liver in the house. So where do you think Wiseman got it from? There was another long pause. Then Richard Davidson stood and wrapped his arms around himself. Id like to go back to my cell now.
So, said Logan, when a prison officer had taken Davidson away, what do you want to do now?
Faulds checked his watch. Nearly ten. While were here, how about we take a crack at the butcher McFarlane?
Ah...
What?
Maybe not the best of ideas, sir. DI Insch can be a bit
The Chief Constable waved him down. Nonsense. Were just going to have a little chat with the man, wheres the harm in that?
But
Good, then its settled. You get someone to bring him up from the cells and Ill sort us out a nice cup of tea.
Five minutes later Logan had held up his end of the bargain, which was more than Faulds had done. Whatever was in the three Styrofoam cups hed turned up with could only be described as nice if you were a lying bastard. It was barely tea just a watery brown substance with suspicious-looking froth round the edges.
But it wasnt the least attractive thing in the room: that honour went to Andrew McFarlane. The butcher was like one of the damned. Sweat beaded on his balding forehead, his baggy face swollen in places, bruises beginning to spread across his pale skin. His big, bloodshot nose had developed a list to the left, a sticking plaster crossing the bridge from one blackened eye to the other. And he stank. BO and desperation mingling with the sour tang of TCP.
Twitching.
You have to get me out of here!
Faulds passed him one of the polystyrene cups. Its all right, Mr McFarlane. No ones going to hurt you here.
No ones going to... WHAT ABOUT THIS? He pointed a trembling finger at his battered face. They put my photo in the papers! Everyone thinks I killed those people...
Im sure its not
He wouldnt stop hitting me! Said Id killed his mother! I never touched her! It wasnt me! McFarlane started to cry. All I wanted was to run a little butchers shop, somewhere nice and local, where people would come and buy their meat...
Then why were you selling bits of dead body?
McFarlane wiped his nose on his sleeve. I told you: I dont know how that stuff got into my shop.
So youre saying it was all Wiseman
No. He didnt kill anyone, he
When he was in Peterhead Prison, he beat a man to death in the showers.
Because you bastards put him there! It wasnt his fault.
I cant believe you gave him a job when he got out. Wiseman in a butchers shop? Like giving Gary Glitter the keys to a childrens home.
Hes my brother-in-law, what was I suppose to do: abandon him? He didnt kill those people!
Come off it, Andrew. Faulds sat back in his chair and tried his friendly Chief Constable smile again the one that hadnt worked on Richard Davidson. When he was arrested they found a lot of blood in the boot of his car, it
It was his! He cut himself. We went through all this at the appeal. You fitted him up.
He confessed.
You beat that out of him!
Oh please. Faulds picked up his tea, then put it down again. You know, I always suspected he had an accomplice. Someone to help him. Someone with their own butchers shop. Someone
No you bloody dont! I didnt do anything.
The Chief Constable leant across the table and poked McFarlane in the chest. You were helping him dispose of the bodies twenty years ago, and youre helping him now.
I never
Where were you on the fourteenth of October 1982?
What? I dont remember, it was twenty-five years
Were you in Birmingham, Mr McFarlane?
No!
Shirley Gidwani was pregnant, did you know that, when you and Wiseman carved her up?
We didnt
Stuffed chunks of her in the freezer like she was nothing more than joints of bloody meat.
I never
I had to tell her parents!
McFarlane slapped both hands over his ears. Stop it!
You didnt even leave them enough for a decent burial.
I DIDnt KILL ANYONE! It wasnt me! Ask him! Ask Ken! Hell tell you
Oh we intend to, Mr McFarlane, soon as we catch him. And wed also like a word with your wife... Faulds checked his notes, Kirsty.
McFarlanes face went fish-belly pale between the bruises. She left me.
We know that: where is she now?
I... I dont know. He stared at the tabletop. She ran off with an electrician called Neil, OK? You happy?
Not even vaguely. Faulds pushed his chair back and stood, towering over the shivering butcher. I hope youve got a good lawyer Mr McFarlane, because youre going to need one.
12
You really think hes involved? asked Logan as they drove back to FHQ.
Faulds didnt look round, watching the grey granite buildings drifting past instead. Dont tell me you bought all that, It wasnt me crap.
The radio was on in the background: Jamie McLaughlin being interviewed on Northsound 2 about his book and the hunt for Ken Wiseman. Did you ever dream when you wrote Smoak With Blood that it would all happen again?
McFarlane just doesnt seem... Logan frowned. I dont think hed be any use. And from what I hear, Wisemans not the kind to carry passengers.
Not in my worst nightmares. You know, Damien, when the appeal court overturned his conviction in 1995
And if McFarlane is involved, why didnt we find any forensics in his flat, or his car? The amount of blood at the scene we should have found something.
it was like everything Id ever believed in was a lie. And now here we go again, right back where we started.
Faulds sighed. I know.
Right, I suppose wed better have a record, then well be back with Jamie McLaughlin, author of Smoak With Blood...
Logan joined the tail end of a queue of traffic, shuffling its way down Market Street. What does it mean, Smoak?
Soak, I think. Or something like that. Comes from a painting in Trinity Hall, where the Aberdeen trades meet. We interviewed pretty much everyone involved there during the original investigation bizarre place, full of all this historical stuff and ancient paintings. We should probably pay them another visit, see if any of the 1990 suspects are still around... And then he started humming along to the song on the radio, just off-key enough to set Logans teeth on edge. The torture didnt stop till the record did.
Youre listening to Northsound Radio Two, and Im in the studio with Jamie McLaughlin
You know, said Faulds, you should read Jamies book. Its a good insight into what happened in eighty-seven. Remind me when we get back to the station, Ill lend you my copy.
And I understand sales of the book have rocketed?
Then well get that trip to Trinity Hall organized.
guilty about it, but the publishers have been swamped. Theres talk of a television series on Channel Four, and a new book to accompany it.
Faulds drummed his fingers on the dashboard. And we should try a search for McFarlanes missing wife as well. PNC, census records, Friends Reunited: the usual. He started up the painful humming again.
Its weird, I dont want to profit from other peoples misfortune, but... but it feels like my whole lifes been shaped by Ken Wiseman and the murders he commits.
Dig out her statement when you get a minute. Should be on file somewhere. Probably a load of old bollocks about how her brother wouldnt hurt a fly, but you never know. And then were going to book a restaurant; havent had a decent curry since I got here.
I just have to pray that they catch him before he kills again Amen to that.
God, look at them, said Rennie, whispering like some sort of naughty schoolboy, talking behind the teachers back, Ill bet theyre figuring out how to blame this on someone else.
DI Insch, DI Steel and CC Faulds, stood at the front of the incident room arguing quietly amongst themselves.
Rennie sniffed. Not like its our fault is it? Insch should have called in the Environmental Health people from the start.
He was right, but Logan didnt want to be overheard agreeing with him. What happened to you last night then?
The constable grinned. Wouldnt you like to know?
Logan thought about it, said, Not really, and went back to his paperwork.
OK, OK, Ill tell you. Rennie scooted his chair closer. Her names Laura and we were at it all night. It ever becomes an Olympic sport, that girl could bonk for Scotland. She could suck a bowling ball through a garden hose. He sighed, happily. Think Im in love.
Its like Romeo and Juliet.
Only with lots and lots of condoms.
The discussion at the incident board was getting heated, DI Insch heading his usual shade of beetroot.
Whats the book at? asked Logan, as Insch placed a huge finger in the middle of Faulds chest and poked.
Six hundred for lamping someone, three hundred for a heart attack.
Youre taking bets on when Inschll have a heart attack now? What the hell is wrong with you people? Logan shook his head. Then put ten quid on the inspector punching someone before the week was out. From the look of things, it was probably going to be Chief Constable Mark Faulds.
Insch turned and stormed out of the room, followed a beat later by DI Steel and an angry-looking Faulds. Maybe the end of the week was a little conservative: Logan doubted Insch would last till the end of the day.
Three cups of tea, two rowies and an Eccles cake. DC Rennie stuck the tray on top of a mound of dusty archive boxes, then helped himself to one of the cowpat-shaped disks of flour, lard, butter and salt, chewing as he handed out the mugs.
Faulds accepted his with an exasperated smile still on the phone with his Deputy Chief Constable. I know it is, Arthur, but its the same every year... He grabbed the other rowie, lumbering Logan with the Eccles cake.