The man nodded, setting his jowls wobbling, and Faulds gave him an encouraging smile. And you expect us to believe you cant tell the difference between pork and people?
I... I... I dont do a lot of the actual butchery anymore... He held up his trembling hands. Cant hold a knife still.
I see.
Insch placed a massive paw on the desk. You dont remember me, do you, Mr McFarlane?
What? He frowned. No. What are you
Twenty years ago. Three people hacked up and fed
Oh, no! McFarlane clamped one of his quivering hands over his mouth. Not... Im not! I never did anything! I... His frantic eyes locked onto Faulds. I never! Its not me! Tell him its not me!
Wheres Ken Wiseman?
Oh God, this isnt happening, not again...
WHERE IS HE?
And suddenly all the colour rushed back into McFarlanes face. I dont know! And even if I did, I wouldnt tell you. The butcher clambered to his feet. I remember you now, you and that bastard... what was it...? Brooks! Ken never did anything, you fitted him up!
Where is he?
Logan listened to Faulds and Insch playing Bad Cop, Worse Cop for a while, then let his attention wander round the little office. A couple of empty display stands were piled in the corner, next to a stack of dusty wicker picnic hampers; two filing cabinets beneath a barred window Logan poked through one of them, keeping an ear on the conversation behind him.
Insch: Tell me where the bastard is.
McFarlane: Ive no idea, I havent seen Ken in years.
Insch: Bollocks.
The filing cabinet was full of accounts, bills, payslips nothing really jumped out. Logan pulled a ledger marked OVERTIME from the drawer.
Faulds: You have to see it from our point of view
Insch again: going to send you down for a long, long
Faulds: Better if you just tell us everything you know
McFarlane: But I dont know anything!
The ledger was nearly indecipherable, page after page of dates, hours, payments, and names in the butchers trembling scrawl. Logan skipped to the most recent entries.
Insch: people like you in Peterhead Prison, with the
Sir! Logan cut across the inspector, and there was an ominous silence as Insch turned to glare at him. Logan held out the ledger. Last page. Third name from the bottom.
Insch snatched it off him and read, his brow furrowed, lips slowly twitching into a smile. Well, well, well.
Faulds: What?
The inspector slammed the book down on the desktop, then tapped the page with a fat finger. Thought you said youd not seen Ken Wiseman for years.
McFarlane wouldnt look at the book. I... I havent.
Then why does this say he did two hours overtime, day before yesterday?
3
There was a pause, and then a voice from the doorway said, Sorry guys, I ran out of tape. Any chance we could do that last bit again? It was Alec, standing in the doorway with his HDV camera.
Insch rolled his eyes, sighed, then asked, From where?
Finding the book.
Faulds looked confused, until Logan introduced the cameraman. Hes from the BBC, theyre doing one of those observational documentaries: Granite City 999. Going out next summer.
Ah... Faulds ran a hand through his hair, then snapped on the same smile hed tried with the pathologist. Chief Constable Mark Faulds, West Midlands Police. Believe it or not I used to be on telly when I was younger. It was a childrens show, sort of William Tell meets The Muppets only more
Can we get on with this please? said Insch.
I was only
McRae, Insch handed the book back to Logan and told him to put it in the filing cabinet and find it again.
Logan groaned. But were in the middle of
Sergeant, this is a key discovery in the case: youre going to be a hero on national television. Now put the bloody book back and remember to act all surprised when you find it!
You know, Faulds said, if you feel uncomfortable faking it, Logan, Im sure DI Insch, or myself would be happy to do it for you. We
No. DS McRae found the thing: he should be the one getting the credit for it.
Oh, well, of course... I never meant that wed take the credit for his hard work, I just thought... if he wasnt comfortable
Hes comfortable. Arent you, Sergeant. It wasnt a question.
Yes, sir. Logan stuck the overtime ledger back in the filing cabinet, waited for Alec to shout ACTION!, then did the whole thing again.
Terrific! The cameraman gave them the thumbs up when they were done. Now all I need is for someone to explain who this Wiseman bloke is and weve got a great scene. Just try not to make it too expositiony, OK? I want it to look nice and natural.
Of course you know what this means? said Insch, as McFarlane was stuffed into the back of a patrol car with a blanket over his head.
Faulds nodded. Weve got a chance to do it properly this time.
Two constables pulled back the barrier and the patrol car drove out into a barrage of flash photography and shouted questions.
We did it properly last time.
Then why did it get thrown out on appeal?
The inspector sighed. Because the jury were idiots. McRae!
Logan held up a hand, mobile phone clamped to his ear, listening to Alpha Seven Two reporting back on their search of Wisemans street. OK, yeah, thanks. He hung up. Couple of neighbours think they saw Wiseman going out last night around ten. Not seen him since. They say he stays out pretty regularly.
Insch swore. I want every uniform out there looking for him. Roadblocks on all major routes out of Aberdeen. Get onto the port, the bus station, railway and the airport. Search his house I want a recent photo, circulate it. Posters up in all the usual places. Send out a notice to every police force in the UK.
Logan groaned. But its nearly eleven; Ive been on duty since two yesterday afternoon!
Eleven? Insch peered at his watch, frowned, rubbed a fat hand over his face, and swore again. Post mortem starts in three minutes. He turned and marched off towards the barricade, peeling off his SOC suit and thrusting it into the arms of a spotty-faced PC.
Faulds watched him go, then placed a hand on Logans shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. You did well there, Sergeant. Good work.
Er... thanks. Logan shifted out of range, just in case the Chief Constable went in for a teambuilding hug. How come McFarlanes so upset about this Wiseman bloke?
This Wiseman bloke? Faulds shook his head. Didnt they teach you anything in school? Andrew McFarlane was married to Ken Wisemans sister when all this happened first time round. Which is why hes not too keen on your DI Insch.
Logan tried to stifle a yawn, but it ripped free anyway. God... Right, search teams...
Faulds did the shoulder squeezing thing again. Delegate. Pass that lot onto someone else and go get some sleep. Youre no use to Insch, or anyone else if you cant function. He smiled. Now if youll excuse me, I think Ill nip along to that PM and take another crack at your lady pathologist friend.
Faulds did the shoulder squeezing thing again. Delegate. Pass that lot onto someone else and go get some sleep. Youre no use to Insch, or anyone else if you cant function. He smiled. Now if youll excuse me, I think Ill nip along to that PM and take another crack at your lady pathologist friend.
Logan didnt have the heart to tell him he was wasting his time.
4
INTERIOR:a cramped office. Two figures out of focus in the background, one emptying a filing cabinet. Chief Constable Faulds stands centre shot wearing a white SOC suit.
TITLE:Chief Constable Mark Faulds West Midlands Police
FAULDS: There were corpses all over the country: London, Birmingham, Glasgow, even Dublin. It was like nothing wed ever seen. Hed break into the victims houses and butcher them. And I dont mean hack them up, I mean hed take them apart, turn them into joints of meat. And there was never any clues... should that be there were never any clues?
VOICEOVER:Whatever youre comfortable with.
FAULDS: Feels strange doing this without a script.
VOICEOVER:If youre worried about it, Im sure DI Insch can
FAULDS: No, no. Used to do this all the time when I was young. Like riding a bike... OK, lets take it from joints of meat. [gives himself a small shake] Every time he struck the papers would give him a new name: the Birmingham Butcher, the Clydeside Ripper. It wasnt till they found Ian and Sharon McLaughlins remains that he finally got his true name: the Flesher.
[pause]
Does that sound too melodramatic? It does, doesnt it? Shit... Sorry, Ill start again.
[clears throat]
There were cases all over the country...
The room smelt of Pot Noodles. It was a small office at the back of FHQ, half-heartedly converted into a makeshift editing suite. Logan stifled a yawn and gazed out of the tiny window. It wasnt much of a view just a small square of waterlogged car park and the stairs down to the mortuary. You couldnt even see the sky from here.
Hed managed to grab a couple of hours sleep back at the flat, all alone in a cold and empty bed. The place just wasnt the same without Jackie.
There was a strangled vwipping noise as Alec rewound the tape and then Faulds voice crackled out of the TV monitor: Shit... Sorry, Ill start again.
Alec hit pause, scribbled something down on his notepad, then shovelled another forkful of rehydrated noodles into his mouth. Mmmph, mmmph, mmm?
Logan turned away from the window. Youve got juice all down your chin, and I cant understand a word.
Alec chewed, swallowed, then went in for another forkload. I said, do you want to see the press conference?
Not really.
No? Alec tapped a couple of buttons on his bizarrely coloured editing keyboard and Faulds face was replaced by a crowded room full of journalists. DI Insch, one of the media officers, and Aberdeens very own Chief Constable were sitting at the front of the room, fielding questions like, Why was Ken Wiseman ever released?, How many people has the Flesher killed?, Why didnt Grampian Police make a stronger case against Wiseman in 1990? and that perennial favourite, Will there be a public enquiry?
The camera panned to focus on DI Inschs big pink head. He did not look happy.
Alec pointed at the screen with his fork. Look at the expression on his face. Enough to give you nightmares.
Welcome to my world.
He always been a grumpy fat bastard? Alec scraped out the last of the noodles, then upended the plastic container into his mouth, sooking out the juice.
Im not answering that on the grounds hed have my balls if he found out.