Part 37 (1/2)

Tina, AKA Vicky Peterson, looked Rickards up and down. 'You never said you were a policeman.'

'Er ... sorry about that.'

There was an awkward silence. 'Do they let you take your handcuffs home?'

The constable got as far as another, 'Er...' when Steel poked him in the back and said, 'Get a s.h.i.+ft on, Spanky: we're freezing out here!'

Rickards went bright red. 'Can we ... er...'

Tina rolled her eyes, gave a big, dramatic sigh, then turned and marched into the house. 'Sure, why not. Wipe your feet though.'

Logan hung back, cursing Jimmy Duff's name.

'What's up with your face?' hissed Steel as they followed Tina and Rickards through the rubber-scented hall and into a tidy lounge.

'It's not her. She's a bottom. Whoever fisted Jason Fettes was a top, or a dom. And look at her: she's too short and heavy to be the woman on the video. That b.a.s.t.a.r.d Duff lied to us.'

Steel swore. 'Just what I need, another wild b.l.o.o.d.y goose chase.'

'So,' said Tina, striking her pantomime pose again, fist on hips, legs spread wide, 'to what do I owe the pleasure?'

Rickards cast a panicked look at the inspector who just shrugged and pa.s.sed the buck on to Logan. 'Ah...' he said, 'we're... Burglaries.'

'Burglaries?'

'Burglaries. We've had a number of break-ins reported in the area, and we're going door to door to see if anyone saw anything. And, you know, if their properties are secure.'

'Oh.' Tina stood with her head to one side, like a cat. 'I know Mrs Ross had her car nicked, but I thought that was in town.'

'So you haven't seen anything?' Brazening it out.

'Nope.'

Logan nodded, as if he'd feared as much. 'Right, well, we'd probably better take a quick look round. Make sure everything's secure before we go next door.' And if they were lucky she'd never even know she was under suspicion. After the fiasco with Insch's star performer, the last thing Logan needed was someone else shouting about s.e.xual bias and making official complaints.

They started the 'security inspection' in the kitchen, then through to the tiny dining room, then the lounge, then up the stairs. The master bedroom was nothing out of the ordinary: pile of books on the bedside cabinet Marian Keyes, a couple of those true-crime serial killer things, and a psychology textbook towelling dressing gown draped over the back of a chair, one rogue sock poking out from under the bed. Bathroom: the window was open, so Logan got to do his 'crime prevention' talk about giving burglars an inch and them taking everything you've got. And last up was another small bedroom, completely empty except for a flat-pack wardrobe and that rubbery/fabric odour again, fighting against the smell of fresh paint and one of those plug-in air fresheners. He scuffed his shoe across the carpet beneath his feet, back and forth and back and forth, making a little lozenge of blue fuzz.

Steel grimaced and clutched at her stomach. 'Any chance I could use your loo?'

'Oh ... yes. Down the hall.' Tina pointed at it, even though they'd just come from there. 'Watch the lock though, it's a bit temperamental. What about you two?' she asked as the inspector hurried off. 'Would you like a cup of tea? That's what you're supposed to offer policemen, isn't it? They always do on the telly.'

Logan nodded. 'Please.' Not really paying attention as Tina and Rickards headed back down to the kitchen. Back and forth and back and forth ... 'New carpet?'

The answer was shouted back up the stairs. 'Yeah, I'm doing the spare room up, spilt a whole tin of barley white. Ruined the carpet in there and the one in the hall too.' The sound of a kettle starting to boil. 'b.l.o.o.d.y insurance said I wasn't covered for DIY, can you believe that?' Some clanking. 'What do you both take?'

Rickards: 'Just black for me, he's milk, no sugar. The inspector's milk and two. You want a hand?'

Logan stepped back into the spare room. No wonder the carpets looked so clean. He reached for the wardrobe door and pulled it open: one full-body rubber suit; a collection of paddles, buckles and straps; a corset; ball gags, and masks with strange inflatable bits; thigh-high black high-heeled boots; the box for an electrastim set; and a large collection of s.e.x toys. All neatly hung on their own little hooks, or placed on shelves. And there, stuffed in beside the suit, was a full-length, gilt-edged mirror.

He slid it out and propped it up against the wall, stepping back until ... perfect. All the room needed was Jason Fettes and a table to strap him to. It wasn't spilt paint that had ruined the carpets, it was Fettes haemorrhaging to death.

The corset would change her body shape, make her thinner, the high-heeled boots would make her taller, just like on the video. And she'd played the lead in Jack and the Beanstalk give her a stick-on beard and an Irish accent and she'd be a dead ringer for the driver that dropped Fettes off at the hospital.

It looked as if Jimmy Duff was right after all.

57.

He sighed and closed the wardrobe door. Insch would have been over the moon that they'd finally caught someone, but as far as Logan was concerned, this wasn't going to end well for anybody. Tina hadn't killed Jason on purpose. It was just a case of kinky s.e.x gone tragically wrong, but she'd get dragged up on charges anyway, the trial would be splashed all over the papers, her life would be ruined. And it wouldn't make Jason Fettes any less dead.

He headed back downstairs, trying not to hear the Battle of the Somme noises coming from the bathroom as he pa.s.sed. He could hear Rickards moaning in the kitchen, complaining about being blackballed from the Aberdeen scene, Tina telling him he could always try the Ellon lot instead.

She looked up, saw Logan standing in the doorway, smiled, and asked him if he'd like a chocolate biscuit. He asked her where she was the night Jason Fettes died.

The kettle gave a click and fell silent while she stared at him, face going pale. And then it all went wrong. She wrenched open a cutlery drawer, pulled out a huge, serrated bread knife and grabbed Rickards by the collar. He got as far as, 'What the f-' before she spun him round. Now she was directly behind him, putting his body between Logan and herself; using Rickards as a s.h.i.+eld. She grabbed a handful of hair and yanked the constable's head back, pressing the blade against his throat. He squealed. 'Argh, Jesus, Tina!'

'Whoa!' Logan held his hands up, not moving. 'You don't need to do this. Fettes was just an accident. We-'

'I... I'd like you to leave, please,' she said as Rickards' terrified eyes locked onto his.

'It's OK, you're not in any trouble.'

She almost laughed. 'Not in any trouble? I KILLED A MAN!'

'Sir, I-' Rickards made a strangled noise and stopped talking, a thin trickle of blood running down to soak into his black T-s.h.i.+rt.

'I fantasize about it all the time. All the time! You understand? I watched that film of Jason dying over and over again, till I knew every word off by heart. All the sounds, the screams. Again and again and again.'

'Come on Tina, let...' Logan had to wrack his brains for Rickards' first name, 'John. Let John go. You don't want to hurt him.'

'No?' She let go of Rickard's hair and ran her hand down the front of his stabproof vest, across his belt, until she was cupping him through his trousers. 'John wants me to hurt him, don't you John?' She squeezed and the constable whimpered, closing his eyes. 'Yes he does...'

'Tina, you're a bottom, remember? You only did what Fettes asked you it's not your fault.'

Steel's voice, m.u.f.fled from upstairs. 'h.e.l.lo? The lock's stuck. h.e.l.lo?' The sound of a door being rattled.

Tina looked Logan in the eye. 'It is my fault.' The tears started. 'I'm a serial killer.'

'Oh for f.u.c.k's sake. You're not a serial killer, OK? Fettes was into rough s.e.x and it went too far. It was an accident, that's all. End of story.'

'h.e.l.lo?' The rattling got louder. 'Where the h.e.l.l is everyone?'

'I am a serial killer! I f.u.c.king am! I got the books off the internet I read them. It's me! I tried to make it happen again, with the other one, the b.a.s.t.a.r.d who stole my b.l.o.o.d.y stuff, but he wouldn't die!'