‘And?’ All calm and unconcerned, as if it had nothing to do with her.
‘He’s withholding information from a murder investigation!’
She sighed. ‘Inspector McRae, you know perfectly well that Colin’s professional life and mine are completely separate. Do we have to go over this again?’
‘He—’
‘He doesn’t speak to me about his work and I don’t speak to him about mine. If you’ve got a problem with him, talk to him about it, not me.’
‘You could at least have a word with him and—’
‘No.’ She actually had the cheek to sound annoyed, as if this was somehow all Logan’s fault. ‘Now, is there anything else, or can I return to dissecting DS Chalmers’ liver?’
Pfff... There was no point arguing with her when she was like that. It only ever made things worse.
‘How’s it going?’
‘We’ll have to wait for the toxicology results, but going by the smell of her stomach contents, she’d consumed a lot of alcohol.’
‘Dutch courage. She was on antidepressants too. Probably helped.’
Silence from the other end.
‘Isobel?’
‘Which antidepressants? Do you know which ones?’
‘Erm...’ Nope — Chalmers’ medicine cabinet was a blur. Well, everything but the Aripiprazole, and that was an antipsychotic, not antidepressant. ‘I can find out, if you like?’
‘Thank you.’
One last go: ‘And Isobel? Talk to Colin. Please.’
‘No. Goodbye.’ And she was gone.
‘Great.’ Ah well, no one could say he hadn’t tried. Logan put his phone away and wandered over to the custody desk. Pointed at Crowbar Craig. ‘Do you a deal, Craig. I’m soaked right through, and DS Rennie here needs a shower so he doesn’t smell of stairwell-urine any more.’
Rennie folded his arms. ‘I do not smell of...’ He sniffed. Frowned. ‘OK, now I’m getting it.’
‘You tell us all about Fred Marshall and we’ll forget about you assaulting a police officer and resisting arrest. One-time-only offer, you’ve got until I get dry and changed to make up your mind.’
Simpson scowled at him, mouth working on something, jaw muscles clenching... Then he hung his head. Groaned. Nodded. ‘I hate Aberdeen...’
18
Rennie’s voice oozed out through the closed door. ‘...and it’s a really big deal, right? They don’t make just anyone Senior Investigating Officer, do they? So I said to him, I said, this isn’t—’
He went quiet when Logan opened the door and stepped inside.
Rennie winked at Crowbar Craig. ‘I’ll tell you later.’
Someone must have given Interview Room Three a coat of paint recently, hiding its usual scent of desperation and cheesy feet beneath a magnolia-coloured chemical funk.
Crowbar sat in the chair opposite Rennie’s, with his back to the window, fidgeting. Not making eye contact as Logan closed the door and sat down.
A thumbs up from Rennie. ‘Ready when you are, Guv.’
‘Go on then.’
He set the machinery recording again. ‘Interview resumes at seventeen twenty-one, Inspector Logan McRae has entered the room.’
Logan dumped his folder on the table and settled back in his seat. Watching Crowbar. Letting the silence grow.
‘Aye.’ Crowbar fidgeted a bit more. Glanced up at the camera mounted in the corner of the room, where the walls joined the ceiling. ‘Before we begin, I want to make it crystaclass="underline" I don’t shag my mates’ wives.’
Rennie nodded. ‘Well, except for, you know, shagging your mate’s wife.’
‘That’s different. That’s no’ shagging, that’s...’ his cheeks went all pink, ‘making love.’
Rennie spluttered.
Logan was a bit more professional, but it wasn’t easy hiding the smile. ‘You wanted to tell us about Fred Marshall, Craig.’
‘Aye. Long as we agree about the shagging thing, right?’ He paused, eyebrows raised. And then, when no one said anything: ‘Right. OK, so Freddie was going straight. Didn’t want to do nothing any more. No robbing, no nicking cars, nothing. I tried... I mean, some other bloke tried to get him involved in a bit of protection racketing and he wouldn’t even do that!’ Crowbar inched forward in his seat, eyes shining. ‘And I mean it was buttery as a fresh rowie: old fart shopkeepers with grandkids. No way they’d put up a fight or go to the cops.’
‘But he wouldn’t do it.’
A shrug, arms out as if it were unbelievable. ‘Told you: gone straight.’
Logan put on a full-throated panto voice. ‘Oh — no — he didn’t!’
‘Aye, he did. And anyone says different is a lying bastard.’
‘Really?’ Logan opened the folder and pulled out a sheet of paper. ‘Because I have here your statement to Detective Sergeant Rose Savage, two and a half years ago, where you claim that Fred Marshall told you he abducted Aiden MacAuley and murdered Aiden’s father Kenneth.’
‘Ah.’ Crowbar looked away, cheeks darkening even more. ‘No comment.’
‘You see, it’s hard to take you seriously when you say Fred Marshall was going straight with one breath and with the next you’re telling us he’s murdered someone.’
He slumped in his seat. ‘Aaaaaargh...’
‘In your own time.’
‘Before we go any further I want it made crystaclass="underline" I don’t clype on people, right? Right.’
Rennie grinned at him. ‘But...?’
‘Yeah, he told me he killed the dad. Bashed his head in with a rock.’ A shudder. ‘He... kept on going with it, you know? Smashing and bashing till there’s blood and brains and bits of skull and that everywhere.’
Logan leaned forward. ‘Why?’
‘Why? Said he must’ve recognised him or something. I dunno, do I?’
‘Then why did he abduct Aiden MacAuley?’
‘Some bloke offered him two grand for the kid.’
Silence.
Logan skimmed the statement again. ‘Doesn’t say anything about money here, Craig.’
‘Yeah, I... must’ve forgot about that bit.’
‘You forgot that your best mate was paid two thousand pounds to abduct a child and murder someone?’
He went back to fidgeting. ‘I was doing a lot of coke then. Stuff gets muddled up.’
‘Riiiiiiiiiiight. Course it does.’ Logan tapped the tabletop. ‘Who paid two thousand pounds for Aiden MacAuley?’
‘I don’t do coke no more, cos of Jaime. Can’t be around a kid when you’re on coke. Got to raise kids right, like.’
‘Who — was — it?’
Barely a mumble, like a small child caught with a handful of biscuits: ‘Don’t remember.’
Of course he didn’t.
The little red lights on the recording equipment blinked.
Outside, in the corridor, someone shouted something incomprehensible.
Rennie sneezed.
Crowbar fidgeted.
More incomprehensible shouting.
More fidgeting.
A lovely uncomfortable silence.
Logan finally broke it. ‘You’re a strange friend, Craig. First you rat out Fred Marshall; then, when he disappears, you move in on his wife and raise his kid.’
‘When Jaime was born, Fred said, didn’t he? If anything happened to him, I had to promise to look after them!’ An embarrassed shrug. ‘You know: doing my bit. As a mate.’