Rennie nodded. ‘I knew he was dodgy.’
Message number three: ‘“Known associates, ex-DC Andy Harris: caught stealing evidence from crime scenes. Drugs mostly. And ex-DC Danielle Smith: done for excessive force. Broke a drink-driver’s jaw.”’
‘I could’ve taken her though. You know, if you hadn’t come along.’
‘She’d have had your bumhole for an umbrella stand.’ Logan put his phone away and picked up his book again. ‘So AberRAD Investigations is full of police officers who’ve been thrown off the force.’
‘You could make an ace detective thing on the telly from that.’ Rennie put on a big cheesy voice-over voice. ‘Once, they were bad cops. Now, they’re the last and only hope for those who can’t get justice anywhere else...’ Then launched into dramatic theme music. ‘Dan da-da dan daaaa! Diddly twiddly too dee doo...’
‘You’re an idiot. You know that, don’t you?’
He shrugged and drove on in silence for a bit. Then, ‘So why didn’t you drink your tea?’
‘Because I know what ex-police officers are like. And I don’t enjoy the taste of other people’s spit.’
A look of utter disgust writhed across Rennie’s face. ‘Urrgh! I drank all mine!’
Rennie slowed the pool car as they drove down Queen Street. Pointed across the road. ‘Look at these silly sods.’
The protest outside Divisional Headquarters was about three times the size it’d been earlier. Which was quite impressive, given the rain. It hammered down from a burnt-orange sky, yellowed by the street lights, bouncing off umbrellas and placards as they marched round and round and round.
Logan buzzed his window down an inch and rival chants broke through the downpour.
‘Find Ellie Morton today! End the uncertainty! Find Ellie Morton today! End the uncertainty!’
A second group stood over by the front doors.
‘Bring Ellie Morton back! Catch this sodding maniac! Bring Ellie Morton back! Catch this sodding maniac!’
A third bunch was putting on a show for the TV cameras and journalists, their loudhailer leader whipping them up.
Her voice hissed and crackled out into the rain: ‘WHAT DO WE WANT?’
A ragged chorus: ‘Ellie found, safe and sound!’
‘WHEN DO WE WANT IT?’
‘Now!’
Rennie grimaced. ‘Yeah, they look friendly...’
Logan tucked his copy of Cold Blood and Dark Granite into his fleece pocket. ‘I want you to badger Inspector Pearce about that CCTV trawl for Chalmers’ car. Make a nuisance of yourself till she does it just to get rid of you.’
‘I thought, you know, as I’m SIO, I should pull in a couple of Chalmers’ colleagues.’ He took the turning around the side of the building, heading up the ramp. ‘Give them a bit of a grilling.’
‘And get that lookout request going for Fred Marshall.’
‘Stick them in a chair with a light in their face.’ Putting on a James Cagney voice for, ‘You’re gonna talk, see? You’re gonna talk, or I’m gonna beat the living snot outta ya!’ The rear podium car park opened out at the top of the ramp — the usual collection of patrol cars, pool cars, and the small cluster of much fancier vehicles belonging to senior officers glowed in the security spotlights.
‘Chalmers was working with DS Steel. So good luck with that.’
‘Ah... Yeah. Maybe not then.’
Logan undid his seatbelt. ‘You’d be better off having another trawl through DI Bell’s old cases. See if you missed anything.’
‘Noooooo...’ Whining like a teenager asked to tidy their room. ‘But I’m SIO!’
‘It’s not meant to stand for “Sulky, Incompetent, and ’Orrible”.’
Logan rolled his eyes. ‘You’re wrong. You are. Accept it.’
The corridor was all nice and shiny and smelling of pine — down the far end, the familiar rhythmic whum-whum-whum of a floor polisher echoed off the walls.
Rennie opened the door to their temporary office. ‘All I’m saying is: the shark would definitely win.’
Logan followed him in. ‘What if they were fighting in a wardrobe? The bear would definitely win.’
‘Yeah, but why would a shark be in a wardrobe in the first—’
The Addams Family theme tune belted out of Logan’s phone. He pointed at Rennie’s computer. ‘Go. Do stuff.’ Then answered it. ‘Sheila?’
A cold, hard voice sounded in his ear. ‘Of course not.’ Isobel. Oh joy. ‘Have you identified the antidepressants DS Chalmers was on yet?’
‘Isobel. How nice to hear from you again.’
‘The antidepressants, Inspector McRae, have you identified them?’
Logan stuck his hand over the phone and grimaced at Rennie. ‘Can you remember what antidepressants Lorna Chalmers was on?’
‘Ermmm... No?’
‘Well, you’re a fat lot of help, aren’t you?’ He turned around and trudged out into the corridor again. ‘I’m on my way to do it now.’
‘I should think so too.’ And then she hung up.
Lovely.
Logan put his phone away and hauled on his best Isobel voice. ‘“I should think so too.” “The antidepressants, Inspector McRae.”’ He dropped the iceberg impersonation. ‘God, Logan, you really could pick them...’
At least the rain’s stopped...
Sally pulls a handkerchief from her coat sleeve and blows her nose. Huffs out a cloudy breath. Wipes at her stinging eyes.
The play area’s busy — scores of kids screaming as they run around the slides and climbing frames and wobbly duck things. Their mums gather at the outside edges, smoking, chatting, or fiddling with their mobile phones, exploiting this break in the weather to tire out their little darlings. Up above, the sky is a solid lump of churned granite, but the setting sun has somehow managed to find a chink between the clouds and the earth, making Westburn Park glow. Turning Aberdeen from a dreich grey lump to a technicolour beauty.
She settles down on the edge of a bench — the only dry bit — and shifts the stroller so it’s next to her. The teddy bear strapped into the seat is mostly hidden by the hood and deep walled sides, but it still smiles its dead smile at her, plastic eyes glinting in the sunlight.
Sally takes a deep breath. Bites her lip.
Stares out at the play area.
Look at them all, running and shrieking and laughing, playing tag and pirates and...
She swallows down the knot of wire in her throat. Wipes her eyes again.
The swings were always Aiden’s favourites. He would’ve spent hours on them if she’d let him, squealing for Kenneth to push him higher this time. Higher, Daddy! And Kenneth would smile and push him higher, and they’d all laugh...
The knot of wire is back. Sally bites her bottom lip and tries to keep it all—
‘Excuse me, are you OK?’
She looks up and a fat balding man is running on the spot, right in front of her, in Lycra shorts and a fluorescent-orange T-shirt, earphones held in one hand. Face all pink and sweaty. His belly jiggles every time his big white trainers hit the ground.
Heat rushes up her cheeks. ‘Sorry.’ She dries her eyes again. ‘Just being stupid. Sorry.’
‘OK, if you’re...’ He’s staring at her. Then his eyes widen. ‘You’re her, aren’t you? Yeah, yeah, you are! God. Wow. I read your book!’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘No, it was really good.’ A smile spreads across his chubby face. ‘Wow. Sally MacAuley...’ He licks his lips. ‘Look, I wouldn’t normally, but like I said, I read your book...’ Then he pulled out a smartphone. ‘Can I take a selfie? Yeah?’