‘Ah...’ Tufty pulled a face. ‘Without a lawyer?’
‘I don’t give a toss about “admissible in court”, I care about the wee kids he had hiding in his wardrobe. And if we’re lucky, he’ll be too off his face on painkillers to remember we did it.’
Tufty sneaked up the corridor to the ward door. Checked both ways. No one else in sight, just him and Steel. She’d done something different with her hair today, like comb it with an angry badger. ‘Clear.’ He opened the door and slipped inside.
Steel followed with a very rude groaning noise.
The ward beds were nearly empty, just an old man snoring away and a young man playing something on his iPad, headphones on. Kenny Milne was in the bed by the window. And going by the state of him, it was clear he wouldn’t be messing with Grand Master Police Ninja Tufty ever again. He had one leg in plaster, one arm too. His face was a road map of bruises, and that nose of his would never be straight again.
‘Bloody hell, Tufty, what kind of animal are you?’
A shrug. ‘Can’t take all the credit. Those two auld mannies had a go at him while I was fighting off that drunk wifie. Think they battered him with the RNLI collecting tin.’
She grabbed the privacy curtain and hauled it around Kenny’s bed, setting the rail rattling, sealing them in. ‘Kenny. Kenster. Ken-fit-I-mean. How they hanging?’
Milne’s head came around slowly, eyes big as dung beetles and twice as shiny. That was a lot of painkillers. He blinked at them. ‘Mmmm... Thirsty...’ Ooh look, missing teeth.
Seriously injured and off his face on drugs. There was no way questioning him was legal. ‘Sarge, you sure about this?’
‘Go wait outside, then. Kenny and me’s having a wee chat.’ She settled on the side of the bed. ‘So, Kenny, be honest now: have you been fiddling with the wee kiddies we found at your place?’
‘Sore.’
‘Good. Where’d you get the kids from?’
‘You wanna know a secret?’ He leaned forward, wobbling, one bruised hand coming up to put a finger to his battered lips. ‘Shhh... See when a prozzie has a kid? No one cares about them, right? No one cares... So, I care. Yup. Care, care, care...’
‘You saying their mums don’t mind you interfering with them?’
‘Not interfering!’ A scowl. ‘I’m... I’m, you know, running a day care centre! Should get a medal. Looking after... after prozzies’ kids... No one cares, but me.’ He grabbed Steel’s hand. ‘Teaching them a trade, aren’t I? Looking after them and teaching them a trade. Something to fall back on.’ He nodded, agreeing with himself. ‘So what if their mums are on... on the heroin and smack? I’m teaching them a trade.’
‘You sure you’re no’ interfering with them?’
‘Gotta pick... pick a pocket...’
Steel let out a little sigh, clearly a bit relieved by that. ‘The two wee kids, I need their mums’ names.’
‘Is a secret.’
‘No’ between us though, right, Kenny? You and me are best mates.’
His face made a passable impersonation of someone thinking. ‘Oh... OK. I forgot. Yeah...’
‘Come on then, Kenny, the mums’ names, soon as you like.’
‘Right. Daphne... Daphne McClellan and... and Sally Gray.’
She glanced over at Tufty. ‘You get that?’
Oh. Right. Erm... ‘You don’t want me to write it down in my notebook, do you? The one that could get seized as evidence if anyone found out that we did,’ Tufty waggled a finger in a circle taking in the curtained-off bed, ‘this?’
‘Fair enough.’ She prised Kenny’s hand off her own and pushed him back into his pillows. ‘Me and my performing monkey here are off to do important police things. You don’t be a stranger, OK?’ Then she hopped off the bed and swept out through the curtains.
Tufty wiggled his fingers in front of Kenny’s face, putting on a ghosty-hypnotist voice. ‘You are sleeeeping and you dreeeeamed all this. Weeee were never heeeere...’
Worth a try anyway.
By the time he escaped the curtains and then the ward, Steel was already halfway down the corridor.
He hurried after her, catching up as she marched straight past the lifts. ‘Thought we were going back to the station?’
‘Soon as we’ve made a wee stop.’
Yeah... Why did that sound ominous?
II
Steel marched through the warren of corridors, boot heels clacking out a drumbeat against the patchwork floor.
Tufty trotted along beside her. ‘Wherever we’re going, it’s not going to get me into trouble, is it?’
‘Let’s no’ spoil the surprise, eh?’
Yeah... That was ominous.
They turned a corner and there was a lanky wee PC poking away at a vending machine, a plastic cup of coffee in his other hand. The machine whirred and clunked, something falling down into the retrieval tray. He collected his purchase and stood, turned, clapped eyes on Steel and flinched like he’d been slapped.
She grinned at him. ‘Hope that Twix is for me.’
‘I didn’t tell anyone!’
‘Good boy.’ She helped herself to his coffee. ‘Beatrice Edwards said anything yet?’
Lanky sent Tufty a pleading look: help me. Help me!
Tufty shrugged back. You’re on your own, sunshine.
Steel poked him on the arm. ‘Sometime today would be good, Constable.’
Lanky sniffed. ‘It... She still can’t remember anything. Doctors say it’s the trauma.’
Another poke. ‘Aye, well, you won’t mind if I have a wee chat with her, will you? Maybe she’ll speak to—’
A voice growled out behind them. Big and extremely hacked off. ‘Detective Sergeant Steel! What exactly do you think you’re doing here?’ DI Vine.
Oh lovely.
They were going to get fired for certain now.
Steel had a sip of her stolen coffee. ‘Needs more sugar.’
Vine stormed up, dragging his two sidekicks with him in all their silly-haircutted glory. ‘I’m talking to you, Sergeant!’
Sidekick Number One sniggered.
‘Were you, Guv? Sorry, didn’t notice.’ Another sip. ‘DC Quirrel and me were just on our way past and the constable here stopped us to ask a question.’ She stared at Lanky. ‘Didn’t you, Constable?’
‘Er... Yes?’
Vine crossed his arms and loomed. ‘And?’
‘Er...’ There was that look again: help me. HELP ME!
Oh all right, then.
Tufty stood to attention like a good little boy. ‘He wanted to know about the new minimum sentencing tariffs for possession with intent.’
‘Yes. Right. That’s what I was asking! Sentencing tariffs.’
Steel patted him on the shoulder, then stole his Twix. ‘Glad I could help.’ Before marching off in a hail of clattering boot heels.
Tufty shared a wee pained smile with Lanky, then hooked a thumb over his shoulder. ‘I’d better... Yeah.’
Escape!
Steel waltzed into the CID office, arms out like she was about to bless them all. ‘Davey, my little man, what news from the coalface?’
The desks were still covered in phone chargers and extension leads, Lund and Harmsworth making calls on other people’s mobiles.
‘... Hello? Yes, this is DC Lund, I’m calling about a stolen mobile phone?’
Harmsworth folded forward and banged his head on the desk. ‘No. No, we don’t want to arrest your neighbour just because he’s English...’
‘No, sir, I didn’t steal your phone. This is the police?... That’s right.’