closed the door on the downpour, brown curls plastered to her forehead. ‘Urgh… Need water wings just to walk here from the car. Don’t you teuchters do proper weather, or are you too busy shagging sheep?’
‘DS McKenzie: stop mocking the afflicted. It’s no’ their fault they’re all inbred.’ Steel shoogled out of her coat and handed it to her sidekick, then turned and thumped Logan on the chest. ‘Come on then, Mr Mysterious, make with the ID.’
He took a sip of tea. ‘Have they taken the bag off your victim’s head yet?’
Steel checked her watch. ‘PM’s no’ till ten. You’ve got five minutes to astound me.’
‘Peter Shepherd.’ Then he turned and marched up the stairs.
‘Who the hell is Peter Shepherd when he’s at home?’
‘He was Martin Milne’s partner.’
Steel hurried after him, boots clunking on the steps. ‘Business or sex?’
‘Bit of both. And he’s got a narwhal tattoo on his upper left arm.’
In the bedroom, Logan pointed the remote at the TV and got the slideshow rolling again. This time, the classical soundtrack was accompanied by Milne and Shepherd having a threesome with a redhead in stripy holdups and a Zorro mask.
‘Kinky.’ Steel pursed her lips. ‘Course, she’s a bit chunky for me, but I’d no’ mind with the lights off. Just gives you more to hold onto.’ She grinned over her shoulder at Becky. ‘How about you?’
DS McKenzie shuddered. ‘No thanks.’
‘Suit yourself.’
Logan hit pause and peered at the remote. Then pressed the button marked ‘ZOOM’, fiddling with the direction arrows until Shepherd’s tattoo filled the screen. It was a detailed illustration of a horned whale’s head emerging from the sea, contained in a ring of rope, with scallop shells around the outside, and the motto ‘CORNEUM CETE SUNT OPTIMUS’ underneath. ‘You know what this means, don’t you?’
‘Don’t speak Latin.’ Steel dug into her jacket pocket and came out with an e-cigarette. Popped it in her mouth. ‘There more porn on this thing?’
‘It means Peter Shepherd disappeared at some point over the weekend, only no one notices because he’s supposed to be away down to Chesterfield to speak to a supplier this week. Martin Milne goes missing Sunday night. Shepherd’s body turns up three days later.’
She snatched the remote from Logan’s hand and pressed play, setting the slideshow rolling again. Sank onto the edge of the bed, e-cigarette sticking out of her mouth as if it was on Viagra. ‘Aye, very good, Miss Marple. Only problem is, if it’s Shepherd who’s dead – and I’m no’ saying it is – but if it is, then how come it looks like he got bumped off by an Edinburgh gangster?’
On the screen, Milne, Shepherd, and their anonymous friend switched one contorted position for another one. As if they were going for some sort of record.
Logan picked up the book and dumped it in Steel’s lap. ‘Page one-fifty-two.’
‘Ooh…’ She didn’t look at the book. She tilted her head to one side and gaped at the TV instead. ‘How did he get his leg all the way over there? Surely that’s no’ physically possible.’
‘God’s sake.’ Logan grabbed the book back and flicked through to the right page, then held it out, poking the photo with a finger. ‘Look. There’s a complete description there too. Milne and Shepherd get into some sort of fight. It gets out of hand. Milne panics, he has to ditch the body. And right there, sitting on the bedside cabinet, he’s got a blueprint of how to do it and make the whole thing look like a mob hit.’
Steel stared, open-mouthed at the screen.
Becky sighed. ‘Lot of trouble to go to if you’re only wanting rid of your humpbuddy, isn’t it?’
‘Phwoar… Look at the size of that strap-on! Could beat a horse to death with that. Surely she’s not going to stick that up his… Ooooh yes she is. That’s gotta—’
‘Give me that.’ Logan took the remote back and switched off the TV.
‘Hoy! I was watching—’
‘Milne killed Shepherd and staged the body so we’d think it was Malcolm McLennan. You’re supposed to be running the investigation, so stop watching porn and go investigate.’
‘I’m no’ “watching porn”, I’m reviewing evidence.’ Steel reclined on the bed, resting on her elbows. Nodded at her sidekick. ‘Becky, let’s imagine for a wee moment that our body was Mr Flexible up there.’ She pointed at the blank screen. ‘Does that mean Martin Miller is our killer.’
‘No, Guv.’
‘It’s Milne. Martin Milne. And he’s disappeared. Vanished. Run away. Skipped out on his family, Sunday night.’
‘Yeah…’ Steel bared her teeth. ‘Still. Looks more like a gangland killing than a lovers’ tiff.’
He shook The Blood-Red Line at her. ‘Because of the book! It’s right there – a how-to guide. Milne set it up.’ Logan chucked it down on the bed. ‘It’s obvious.’
‘It’s a wild stab in the dark is what it is.’ She picked up the remote and set the slideshow playing again. ‘Seconds out, round two.’
He stepped between her and the TV, blocking her view. ‘What is wrong with you?’
Becky sighed. ‘Come on, McRae, even you’ve got to see this is a stretch. We still don’t know if our body’s Peter Shepherd. Could be anyone.’
‘Of course it’s Shepherd!’
Steel stared at him for a bit. Then took another puff on her fake cigarette. Hissed out a thin line of steam. ‘You used to be a lot more fun.’ A sniff. ‘Actually, scratch that, you’ve always been a misery-guts.’
‘Yeah? Well this misery-guts has had enough of your—’ His phone blared out its anonymous ringtone. ‘God’s sake.’ He yanked it out. ‘What?’
There was a brief pause, then a thick dark voice oozed into his ear like evil treacle. ‘Good morning, Sergeant McRae. “Long time, no speak”, as I believe the expression goes. Which isn’t normal for you and I, is it?’
Logan ran a hand over his eyes. Gritted his teeth. Then forced a smile as he turned and walked from the room. ‘Chief Superintendent Napier.’
‘Have you been behaving yourself, Sergeant? Or have you just been very good at getting away with it?’
Through into the floral-print bedroom with its kitsch pillows and crocheted bedspread. ‘I hear you’re retiring soon.’
‘Ah yes, but not to worry: there’s still time for a final hurrah. And speaking of rumours, a little birdie tells me that you’re working with DCI Steel again.’
Then silence from the other
