Dying Light. Stuart MacBride

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СКАЧАТЬ else was free, but Logan wasn’t about to say so. According to Steel this was her chance to shine again. She and Logan were going to solve the case and get the hell out of the Screw-Up Squad. Let someone else look after the no-hopers for a change.

      Rennie slid the car around the bloated bulk of Mount Hooly roundabout, making for Powis. No one said much. Logan was brooding about being transferred to the Screw-Up Squad, Rennie was sulking because the inspector had said he was expected to fuck up, and DI Steel was expending all her effort on not smoking. The family liaison officer had tried to strike up conversation a couple of times, but eventually gave up and descended into a foul mood of her own. Which was a shame, because it was a lovely day outside. Not a cloud in the sky, the granite buildings sparkling in the sunshine, happy smiley people wandering about hand in hand. Enjoying the weather while it lasted. It would be freezing cold and bucketing with rain soon enough.

      Rennie swung the car around onto Bedford Road and then left again into Powis. Past a small set of shops: wire mesh over the windows, graffiti over the walls, leading to a long, sweeping, circular road lined with three-storey tenement blocks. They found Rosie’s address in a row of boarded-up properties with a yellow Aberdeen City Council van parked outside, the sound of power tools echoing out of the open stairwell next door. Rennie parked out front.

      ‘Right,’ said Steel, pulling a packet of cigarettes from her pocket, fingering them, and stuffing them back again, unsmoked. ‘What do we have on the next of kin?’

      ‘Two kids, no husband. According to Vice she’s currently involved with one Jamie McKinnon,’ said the family liaison officer. ‘Conflicting reports on whether he’s her boyfriend or pimp. Maybe a little of both.’

      ‘Oh aye? Wee Jamie McKinnon? Would’ve thought “toy boy” was closer to the mark; she’s got to be twice his age!’ Steel gave a big, snorting sniff, and chewed thoughtfully for a while. ‘Come on then,’ she said at last. ‘Job’s not going to do itself.’

      They left DC Rennie watching the car, trying not to look like a plainclothes police officer and failing miserably. Rosie’s flat was on the middle floor. There was a window set into the stairwell, but it was covered over with a flattened cardboard box parcel-taped into place, shrouding the hallway in gloom. The door was featureless grey with a rusty brass spyhole set into it, a faint glimmer of light shining through from the flat into the murky hall. Taking a deep breath, DI Steel knocked.

      No response.

      She tried again, harder this time, and Logan could have sworn he heard something being dragged against the other side of the door. The inspector knocked again. And the light in the spy hole went out. ‘Come on, Jamie, we know you’re in there. Let us in, eh?’

      There was a small pause, and then a high-pitched voice said, ‘Fuck off. We’re no’ wantin’ any police bastards today, thanks.’

      DI Steel squinted at the spy hole. ‘Jamie? Come on, stop buggering about. We need to talk to you about Rosie. It’s important.’

      Another pause. ‘What about her?’

      ‘Come on, Jamie, open the door.’

      ‘No. Fuck off.’

      The inspector ran a tired hand across her forehead. ‘She’s dead, Jamie. I’m sorry. Rosie’s dead. We need you to come down and identify her.’

      This time the silence stretched out far longer than before. And then the sound of something being dragged away from the door, a chain being undone, a deadbolt being drawn back, and the door being unlocked. It opened to reveal an ugly child wearing an out-of-date Aberdeen Football Club top, tatty jeans and huge sneakers, laced up gangsta-stylie. The haircut was pudding bowl on top and shaved up the sides. Behind him was a tatty dining-room chair. He couldn’t have been much more than seven.

      ‘What do you mean, “she’s dead”?’ Suspicion was written all over his blunt features.

      Steel looked down at the kid. ‘Is your daddy home?’

      The child sneered. ‘Jamie’s no’ my dad, he’s just some fuckin’ waster Mum’s shaggin’. She kicked his arse oot weeks ago. Fuck knows who my “daddy” is, ’cos Mum hasn’t got a fuckin’ clue…’ He stopped and examined the visitors on his doorstep. ‘She really dead?’

      Steel nodded. ‘I’m sorry, Son, you shouldn’t have found out like this…’

      The kid took a deep breath, bit his bottom lip, and then said, ‘Aye, well. Shit happens.’ He went to slam the door in their faces, but Steel had her foot wedged firmly against the hinges. In one of the other rooms they could hear a baby start to cry.

      The family liaison officer dropped down to the kid’s eye level and said, ‘Hello, my name’s Alison. Who’s looking after you while your mummy’s away?’

      The kid looked at her, then at Steel, and then back again. ‘How fuckin’ stupit are you? “Mummy’s” no’ away. “Mummy’s” dead.’ But the defiant edge to his voice was starting to crumble. ‘Understand you stupit cow? She’s dead!’ In the back room the baby bawled louder and the kid turned and roared a tirade of abuse in its direction, telling it what was going to happen, if it didn’t shut up right now! By the time he’d finished there were tears in his eyes.

      They left the family liaison officer to call Social Work and have the children taken into care.

      Logan was on a serious low by the time they got back to Force Headquarters. Telling the kid that he and his baby sister were off to the children’s home had just put the perfect cap on the day. The kicking, the swearing, spitting, threats…

      At least now they had a suspect. Jamie McKinnon: Rosie Williams’s pimp and ex-toy boy. He had prior for assault, possession with intent, breaking and entering, shoplifting, stealing motors. You name it, Jamie had tried it. According to the kid, Rosie had kicked Jamie out for beating her up so badly she couldn’t work for a week. DI Steel had Control radio every patrol car in the city. She wanted Jamie brought in, on a voly if possible, in cuffs if not.

      ‘Well,’ she said when the call had gone out, ‘anything else I should know about?’ Logan told her about the new deputy fiscal and her desire to collect used condoms. Steel laughed so hard Logan thought she was going to bring up a lung. ‘Rather you than me, Sunshine!’ she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

      ‘What’s so funny?’

      ‘You telling the search team to go hunting for nearly-new prophylactics! They’ll have a fit!’

      ‘How come I have to tell them? You’re the one in charge!’

      Steel grinned broadly at him, cigarette smoke oozing out between her teeth. ‘Delegation, Mr Police Hero. I delegate, you do.’ She pointed him at the door. ‘Off you go.’ Only remembering at the last minute: ‘Oh, and while you’re at it, you can phone your new condom-loving friend and get an apprehension warrant for Jamie.’

      Logan stomped off to the lifts. This was so like DI Steel. He did all the work; she smoked fags and took the credit. Grumbling, he called Rachael Tulloch and told her about Jamie McKinnon. She promised to set up a warrant ASAP. Then Logan called Control and got them to patch him through to the team searching the alley. They weren’t happy when he said they had to start collecting every condom they could find. Not happy at all. But by then Logan was past caring. It was nearly five o’clock and he’d been on duty for fourteen and a half hours. The day shift was СКАЧАТЬ