Logan pointed through the windscreen. ‘Block the entrance.’
Tufty did, parking right in front of the driveway. ‘Good cop, bad cop?’
‘Good cop, silent cop. And in case you’re wondering which one you are...’ He climbed out into the rain, pulled his peaked cap on and hurried over to the line of fencing.
A padlock and chain secured one side to the other, but it was slack enough to squeeze through, so Logan did.
Tufty locked the car and scurried after him, up the driveway, past Danielle Smith’s white Clio and over to the caravan in its wickerwork enclosure.
The sound of Blink 182’s ‘Miss You’ pounded through the caravan walls, the whole thing rocking slightly as whoever was inside danced and sang along. Logan strode over to the door and did his police-officer knock: three thumps, loud and hard.
Barking bellowed out from the other side of the door as something massive slammed against it. The song clicked off. More barking, loud enough to rattle Logan’s fillings.
That dog had to be absolutely sodding huge.
He backed away from the door a couple of steps, till his legs bumped into a sodden garden table and chairs. He cleared his throat and turned to Tufty, Hissing it through clenched teeth — nice and quiet. ‘Did you bring any Bite Back?’
‘I didn’t know we’d be arresting Cujo!’
The barking faded, and Danielle’s voice boomed out instead. ‘Go away, Jason. I’m not interested!’
Logan inched forward and knocked again.
‘Don’t be a shitebag, Jason. Take the hint or I’ll set Baskerville on...’ She wrenched the caravan door open. Stood there wearing combat trousers, a Led Zeppelin T-shirt, and a frown. She directed it at Logan. ‘What do you want?’
Behind her, the barking exploded into life again as a huge German Shepherd lunged forward, mouth big and red and full of teeth and oh God why didn’t they bring any Bite Back with them and they were all going to die and—
Danielle grabbed the dog’s collar, holding it back. ‘Baskerville: enough!’
Instant silence.
Logan licked his lips, not taking his eyes off the dog for a second. ‘Can we come in?’
‘You got a warrant?’
‘Do I need one?’
She stood there, staring at him, eyes narrowed. Then nodded. ‘I’m getting ready to go out. You can have five minutes.’
39
Unlike the TARDIS, Danielle Smith’s caravan was smaller on the inside. Every wall had at least one architectural drawing Sellotaped to it, the built-in shelves groaning with books on building and crime novels.
She pointed at the front of the caravan, where bench seating bracketed a foldaway table. Baskerville jumped up onto the cushions, padded to the far end, and sat with his mouth hanging open. One paw on the tabletop — as if waiting for his dinner.
Danielle stared at Logan and Tufty. ‘You two as well. Sit.’
Logan took the empty bench seat, so Tufty had to squeeze in next to the massive dog. Sitting there, staring at it. Looking about as comfortable as a mouse in a blender.
‘So...’ Logan nodded at the plans and elevations. ‘You’re building your own house? That’s got to be stressful. Builders never show up when they say they will.’
‘Dear God, it’s like I’m sharing a caravan with Sherlock Holmes!’ Sarcasm dripping from every word. ‘How ever did you deduce that?’ She opened the tiny fridge and pulled out a couple of takeaway containers. ‘Yes, I’m building my own house. What else am I going to do with a degree in mechanical engineering and a tanked oil industry?’
Now that was impressive.
‘You’re actually doing the construction yourself? Wow, that’s—’
‘Look, can we skip the fake rapport-building and get on with it? I’ve got places to be.’ She opened the containers’ lids a crack, then stuffed them both into the microwave and set it buzzing.
‘OK.’ He stretched his arms along the seat cushions. ‘When we spoke at your office, you said you didn’t know DS Lorna Chalmers.’
‘No I didn’t.’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘Who says I knew her?’
Logan pulled out Tufty’s phone and tapped at the screen... Nothing happened. Oh for God’s sake — the thing was locked again. He looked at Tufty. ‘What’s the code?’
‘Planck’s Constant?’
Nope.
Tufty rolled his eyes and sighed. ‘Give it here.’ A quick flurry of fingers and he handed it over again, unlocked this time.
Logan brought up the photos and pointed the screen at Danielle. ‘That’s you and Chalmers doing security at a concert.’
She turned her back. Took a bowl from a cupboard. ‘And?’
‘There’s more pictures, if you like? The pair of you look very cosy.’
‘We worked a couple of security gigs together,’ Danielle kept her face to the wall, ‘so what?’
‘Then why pretend you didn’t know her?’
The microwave buzzed.
Nobody moved.
‘Looks as if you were friends to me.’
Her voice went all bitter. ‘Yeah, well it did to me too.’ The microwave bleeped and she opened the door, turned the containers. Slammed the door shut. Set it buzzing again.
‘So you weren’t that bothered when she “hanged herself”?’
A shrug. ‘What’s for you won’t go by you, will it?’
And the microwave kept buzzing.
Tufty fidgeted.
The dog turned to look at him.
Tufty sat perfectly still.
Then the microwave bleeped again.
Danielle’s shoulders curled forwards. ‘I met Lorna at a Fleetwood Mac tribute act. It was her first security gig. A bit green behind the lugs, but she was OK. She was Job, I was ex-Job, so we hated some of the same people. We got on.’ The containers were retrieved from the microwave and their contents tipped into the bowl. Rice first, followed by something wet and lumpy.
The warm, spiky scent of Thai green curry filled the caravan.
‘We did the Rolling Stones gig at Glasgow SECC together.’ She turned, a smile on her perfectly rouged lips. ‘Man, that was some concert. I’d have worked that one for free...’ Danielle thumped the bowl down on the table, following it up with chopsticks.
She shooed Logan over, sat, and got stuck into her food. ‘So yeah, I knew her.’
Pretty proficient with those chopsticks. Ferrying chunks of vegetables in soft green sauce from the bowl to her mouth. Scooping up chunks of rice.
She stopped and looked up. ‘What?’
‘What did she do?’
‘Let’s see... There was me, thinking she was my friend, thinking she was a decent human being, sympathising with her because her husband Brian’s a complete dickhat, but we weren’t really friends at all. It was all an act.’
Tufty waggled his eyebrows. ‘You weren’t...?’
She stared at him. ‘I will genuinely take you outside and break every single one of your bloody limbs.’
A low growling noise rumbled out of Baskerville and Tufty edged away from him.
‘Eep...’
Danielle dug into her curry again. ‘Lorna started asking all these questions about Sally MacAuley and loads of other cases we were working on at AberRAD. Next thing you know she’s wanting me to do little favours.’ Her voice changed to a pretty decent imitation of Chalmers’ Highland drawl. ‘“Introduce me to this guy.”, “Introduce me to that guy.”, “What have you found out about so-and-so?”’
‘She was using you.’ Logan sat forward. ‘Is that why you had to, how did you put it, “calm her down a bit”?’