Part 16 (1/2)

'Course, you know what she was doing, don't you?' said Berwick, as Rickards snapped on a pair of latex gloves and started hefting out various items of s.e.xual apparatus. 'She was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the guy who came to install our broadband. There's me, risking life and liberty to keep her in hair dye and French cla.s.ses, and she's off s.h.a.gging some internet geek.' He seemed to shrink. 'And get this, when I confront her, she's the one who acts all hurt! How dare I follow her! What happened to trust? She's s.h.a.gging someone else and I'm getting a b.o.l.l.o.c.king for not trusting her... f.u.c.king women.'

Rickards held a round metal canister aloft. 'Kitty-Cat Katy!'

'I go out on a job and when I come back she's gone. Took the kids and everything else that wasn't nailed down. Hired a removal truck: you believe that?' Berwick sniffed, watching the PC in his garage happily digging through the stuff from Zander Clark's Victorian p.o.r.n collection. 'Found a note in the kitchen: ”I've left you. Mother always said I could do better, so now I have.”' He shook his head. 'Tell you, never trust a b.l.o.o.d.y woman, they'll f.u.c.k you over every time.'

It was well after six but Logan was still sitting in DI Steel's incident room, surrounded by ever expanding piles of paperwork, filling in all the forms that came with actually solving a burglary. Rickards was on the other side of the desk, trying to match up the list of items collected from Ronald Berwick's garage with the properties he said he'd stolen them from. They hadn't recovered everything on the burglary reports, but then Logan hadn't really expected to. In his experience most people padded out their claim with at least two things they'd never owned in the first place, but always fancied figuring the insurance company wouldn't mind treating them. And Berwick had been flogging stuff down the pubs to finance his redecorating binge.

Logan put the finis.h.i.+ng touches to another set of forms and sent them to the laser printer in the corner, creaking his way out of his chair to go get them when the machine had finished squeaking and whirring. 'How many's that?' he asked, stapling the new sheets together and adding them to the pile.

Rickards looked up from his screen. 'I've done twenty.'

Logan nodded, then checked his watch. 'So we should be finished about ... seven, half-seven?' He stifled a yawn. 'After that, we're going for a pizza. Not often-'

'Sorry, sir,' the familiar, telltale blush was working its way across Rickards' face. 'I've got a ... ehm ... meeting to go to tonight.'

'Yeah?' Logan slumped back behind his desk and called up the next burglary report. 'Let me ask you something,' he said, starting in on the form, 'what kind of people are into that kind of thing?'

'Well...' the constable cleared his throat, going an even deeper shade of embarra.s.sed scarlet. 'It ... we...' The door clattered open and a look of relief bloomed on Rickards' face, until he realized it was DI Steel standing in the doorway with hair like a startled grey squirrel, two patches of dark blue shadowing the armpits of her blouse.

'Well?' she demanded, 'Is it true?'

Logan nodded, pointing at the steadily growing pile of completed forms. 'Sixty-two break-ins.'

'Sixty-two? Ha that's nearly all of them! You try to fit him up with the rest?'

'Yes, but he's not having any of it. They're probably his, but he's sold the stuff, so we've got no evidence.'

'Ah well, can't complain I suppose. Sixty-two...' She stuck her hands in her pockets, and beamed happily. 'All those burglaries cleared up and wee Sean Morrison in custody; my crime statistics'll look b.l.o.o.d.y brilliant this month. Right, soon as the paperwork's done we're goin' out on the toot. My treat. You, me and Spanky.'

The constable sent Logan a panicked look. 'Spanky... ?'

'Actually, ma'am, Rickards was just telling me he has to go see his mum tonight, so it'll just be you and me.'

Steel actually looked disappointed. 'Aye? You sure Spanky? Clearin' up sixty-two break-ins needs a celebration...' She left a long enough pause for Rickards to change his mind, but the constable just blushed furiously and apologized instead. She shrugged. 'Ah well, means more beer for us.'

An hour later and Rickards was long gone hurrying off to get rubbered up, or whatever it was he did with his BDSM mates, grinning from ear to ear because Logan had told him he'd done an excellent job today, carefully downplaying Steel's new pet name for the constable. After all, knowing what the inspector was usually like, 'Spanky' was getting off lightly. Logan pulled the final report from the printer, powered everything down, flicked off the lights, yawned, and headed downstairs to the main reception desk. It was quiet and empty, so he let himself in the side door, heading round the back of the two-way mirror, where Big Gary was busily slurping his way through a vast mug of coffee and getting chocolate digestive crumbs all over a copy of the Evening Express.

'Mmmmphmm mph?' he asked as Logan helped himself to a biscuit.

'No idea. I've been on days non-stop for a week now and I'm knackered.'

Big Gary washed down his mouthful with a slug of coffee. 'Your s.h.i.+ft pattern's for s.h.i.+te, you know that, don't you?' He pulled a thick ledger from the shelf. 'Take three days off and then you're on nights Sat.u.r.day.' He gave Logan a big fat wink. 'And that puts you back in step with the lovely Miss Watson.'

Logan smiled. 'About b.l.o.o.d.y time too.' It'd be nice to spend some time together for a change. He checked his watch she was on days, so that meant she'd be home right now. Maybe he could swing her an invite to Steel's burglary celebration? He dug out his mobile and called the inspector from the sound of things she was already in the pub.

'Laz!' Probably on her second whisky. 'Where are you?'

'Just finished, I-'

'Good. Get your a.r.s.e over here!'

'Do you mind if Jackie joins us tonight?'

'Why would I mind? h.e.l.l, for sixty-two break-ins I'd even buy Rennie dinner.' The sound of someone shouting, 'Yay!' in the background.

Smiling, Logan hung up and called the flat, getting the answering machine. Again. He tried Jackie on her mobile. 'How'd you like to come to dinner with me and DI Steel? She's buying.'

There was a small pause, then, 'I'd love to, but I can't. Janette called: she's locked herself in the bathroom with a bottle of vodka and a photo alb.u.m, so that's my evening screwed again. Tell you, if I ever get my hands on her b.l.o.o.d.y fiance, I'm going to wring his sodding neck.'

'Oh...' Logan frowned, trying to picture Janette and coming up empty. 'You are remembering about tomorrow night though, aren't you?'

'Tomorrow... Oh s.h.i.+te!' She swore for a bit, then asked, 'No way we could put it off till next week?'

'It's her fifty-fifth birthday party, so no.'

'You don't even want to go!'

'No, but I have to. And you know what she'll be like if you don't show.'

More swearing. 'OK, OK, we'll go to the stupid party. Jesus. Happy now?'

'Not especially.' He tried being reasonable, 'Look, we don't even have to stay for all of it, we can-'

'Fine. Whatever. I've got to go.' And the line went dead.

Logan went to the pub.

26.

The next morning DI Steel looked even more dreadful than usual; sitting very still in one of the Chief Constable's visitors' chairs, pretending to pay attention as the man told her, Logan and PC Rickards what a great job they'd all done. 'It's not often we get sixty-two crimes wiped off the books in one day,' he said, leaning back against the windowsill, high, grey cloud scudding past behind him. 'Even the papers have laid off us for once.' And he was right: the front page of that morning's Press and Journal was all about a local property developer turning up at Aberdeen Royal Infirmary with both legs broken.

It might have been Logan's imagination, but Rickards seemed to be fidgeting more than usual, s.h.i.+fting about in his seat, trying not to wince. As if he'd got piles. 'Now,' said the CC, gifting them all a broad smile, 'if we can just get to the bottom of this Fettes case it'll be back to business as usual!'

Steel nodded carefully, and mumbled something about DI Insch doing a fine job in that department. 'Excellent.' The Chief Constable settled back behind his desk. 'So, I take it we're building a nice airtight case?'

'Aye, well,' Steel's voice sounded like a cross between Darth Vader and a belt sander, 'obviously I've got a bit more supervising to do, but Insch has my complete confidence.' Making sure she could claim the credit if he succeeded and blame him if he didn't.

'I see. Well, given the recent ”difficulties” I want you to be hands-on with this one, Inspector. I don't want it turning into another disaster like Rob Macintyre.' He picked up a silver letter opener, holding it by the point, as if he was about to throw it at someone. 'Oh, and DS McRae,'

Logan got the feeling something nasty was coming. 'Yes, sir?'

'It's not often I have to consider suspending and commending the same officer in one week. I'll be keeping an eye on you.'

'Er ... thank you, sir.' But Logan wasn't entirely sure if he'd just been praised or threatened.

Logan and Rickards didn't even get as far as the stairs before disaster struck in the shape of DC Rennie. 'Been looking all over for you! Detective Inspector Insch requests the honour of your company, at your earliest possible convenience.'