Logan McRae Crime Series Books 7 and 8: Shatter the Bones, Close to the Bone. Stuart MacBride
Читать онлайн книгу.
a click. ‘There’s no way they could pass a toe from her off as coming from a little white girl.’
‘That’s not what I meant.’ Deep breaths. Stay calm.
‘Then what did you mean, Sergeant?’ Superintendent Napier steepled his fingers, then rested his chin on the point. He smiled, dark eyes wide behind his glasses. His desk was arranged so that his back was to the window, meaning the chair reserved for visitors, supplicants, and sacrificial offerings, faced into the sun. The light made a fiery halo of Napier’s ginger hair, his black dress uniform a solid silhouette against the bright blue sky.
Logan squinted. ‘There just didn’t seem to be an opportunity to call it in. After I banged my head …’ He reached up and rubbed a spot behind his ear, just to sell the lie.
‘Ah yes. Of course. Detective Constable Rennie mentioned … where are we?’ The superintendent picked a sheet of paper from his in-tray and peered at it down his long pointy nose. ‘“He was acting all confused and had difficulty remembering the end of sentences, when I collected him. I believe he may have been concussed.”’ The paper went back in the tray. ‘A more cynical man might think you’d cooked that up between you to deflect the blame, don’t you think, Sergeant?’
‘When was the last time you were attacked by a Rottweiler?’ Or battered to death with your own office chair?
‘And I suppose it was this alleged “concussion” that made you twenty minutes late for our appointment?’ Napier swivelled from side to side, sunlight flaring in Logan’s eyes: shadow, bright, shadow, bright. ‘We’ve not had to deal with you for several months, Sergeant, but I see from Chief Inspector Young’s notes that you were in here only yesterday. Twice in two days. Are you embarking upon some kind of record attempt?’
‘They were trumped up charges by—’
‘Someone allegedly trying to extort drugs from you. Yes, I do actually read the case files of the officers I deal with, Sergeant. And a little birdie tells me that you’re having interpersonal difficulties with Chief Inspector Green from SOCA?’
Did the bastard hire a publicist? ‘We had a frank exchange of views, yes.’
‘Did you now?’ Napier swivelled again.
‘We disagreed about what was and wasn’t acceptable behaviour when interviewing sex offenders. Green thinks it’s OK to put the fear of God in them and threaten to tell their colleagues.’
‘I see …’ He sat forward, blocking out the sun. ‘So, would you say that Superintendent Green was less than receptive to Grampian Police’s thorough and rigorous approach to offender management? That he disregarded best working practice? Was contemptuous of it?’ There was that smile again, the one that made him look like a shark, about to tear into a paddling pool full of orphans.
‘Er …’ Logan was getting set up for something. ‘It was … a non-standard situation that … may have caused some confusion on his part.’
Napier raised an eyebrow. ‘I shall, of course, attempt to smooth out any difficulties in understanding. It’s important that we all get on with our colleagues from the Serious Organized Crime Agency, don’t you think?’
‘… Yes?’
The superintendent picked a silver pen from his desktop, rolled it back and forth between his fingers as if it were a shiny joint. Then returned it to its rightful place, lining it up perfectly with the edge of a desk calendar. ‘Well,’ he stuck out a hand for Logan to shake, ‘thank you for coming in, Sergeant. It’s been most … informative.’
That’s it – he was screwed.
It would just take a while to find out why, and exactly how badly.
‘Well, if you’d hold still for two minutes I wouldn’t have to, would I?’ Dr Delaney shifted her grip on Logan’s ankle. She had fingers like pliers, digging into the skin and muscle, the purple nitrile gloves pulling out leg hairs every time she moved.
‘Ow!’
‘Oh don’t be such a baby.’ She wiped a disinfectant-soaked pad across the dark-red teeth-marks again, rubbing away the scabs. Setting them bleeding again. ‘When was your last tetanus shot?’
‘No idea.’
‘You’re a silly sod. Lucky we don’t get a lot of rabies in Scotland – the needles are massive.’
Sharp, stinging pain tore up his leg. He gritted his teeth, tried not to flinch.
‘If you don’t hold still, you’re going to get gangrene and your foot’ll fall off. Is that what you want?’ She rubbed more disinfectant into the wounds.
‘Did you do a check-up on Ricky Brown?’
‘Pass me the pack of gauze.’ She tore the plastic packet open with her teeth. ‘He wasn’t exactly the most cooperative of patients.’
Dr Delaney laid a square of gauze across the huge gouges in Logan’s ankle. ‘Barely a scratch, I don’t know why you’re being such a whinge about it.’
‘He going to be OK?’
‘Nothing a decent meal and a bath wouldn’t sort out. Hospital did an excellent job on his stitches. I’ve got suits with worse needlework in them.’ She wrapped a bandage around the ankle, securing it with a claw-toothed metal thing on the end of a bit of elastic. ‘And I bet he made a lot less fuss than you did.’
‘Thanks Doc.’ Logan hopped down from the desk, then picked up his bloodstained sock and soggy shoe.
‘One more thing.’ She took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose. ‘I’m recommending they take him into permanent care. A family full of drug users is bad enough, but if his mum and … this Shuggie person are involved with Yardies …’
Logan limped back to his desk, popped open the top drawer and stuck his newly-washed coffee mug and teaspoon inside, then locked them away. That was the trouble with working in a police station – all the thieving bastards.
Biohazard Bob swivelled his seat around until he was facing the middle of the room. ‘Beer o’clock?’
‘Can’t.’ Doreen stayed hunched over her desk. ‘Superintendent Green wants details on every kidnapping in the area, going back five years.’
‘Logie the Bogie?’
Logan switched off his computer. ‘Green needs taking out and shot. He’s got me digging out the same info for the last ten. I’ve got Rennie doing it now.’
Doreen hunched her shoulders, grinding out the words, ‘Why – didn’t – you – say – that – three – hours – ago?’
Biohazard poked the power button on his computer. ‘Well, another day spent hunting the elusive Stinky Tarn has left me gasping for a pint.’ He picked up the slew of paperwork covering his desk, ruffled it into something approaching order, and jammed it in his pending-tray. ‘Anyone seen my stapler?’
He hauled open his top desk drawer. ‘The hell’s this?’ Bob pulled out the pair of knickers Logan had stuffed in there last week – the ones he’d found clothespegged to his lamp along with all the socks.
Bob turned them back and forth, flashing the brown streaks that covered the gusset. ‘Aye, aye, someone’s been a bittie manky.’
Doreen straightened her back, pink rushing up her cheeks. Well, don’t look at me!’
The door banged open and DI Steel grumbled into the Wee Hoose. ‘Sergeant Marshall, why aren’t …’ She frowned. ‘What are you doing?’
He twirled the skidmarked panties around his finger. ‘Just discussing personal hygiene with DS Taylor, here. Superintendent Green’s never going to want to jump in her pants if she’s left filthy bumscrapes—’
Doreen hit him. ‘Detective