‘Guvs?’ Tufty appeared around the corner of the woodshed, with Aiden in tow. The wee boy held his hand, but there was no connection to it. Tufty might as well have been pulling a wheelie suitcase behind him. ‘Well, technically Guv and Sarge, but “Guvs” was quicker. Anyway: update from the Children and Families team: they’re sending out a Margaret McCready? Says she knows you?’
‘Fred Marshall’s social worker.’ Logan nodded. ‘Suppose there’s a symmetry in that.’
Tufty squatted down in front of Aiden and smiled. ‘You’re going on an adventure! Isn’t that great?’
Aiden just looked at him.
‘Come on, Laz, get a shift on, eh?’ Steel leaned on the steering wheel, vaping out huge clouds of strawberry steam as Logan winced his way into the passenger seat.
He sat there, panting. Teeth gritted. It wasn’t so much a raging inferno as one of those underground coal fires. Smouldering deep in his innards.
That’s what he got for ignoring his consultant’s advice and discharging himself from hospital.
A deep breath. Then another one. Damping down the embers.
Steel reached across the car and put a hand on his arm. ‘Let’s get you home.’
Not yet.
Logan struggled the seatbelt into its clip. ‘Not till we’ve paid Danielle Smith a visit.’
Steel puffed out her cheeks. Shook her head. ‘You’re an idiot. You know that, don’t you?’
‘Yeah.’ A smile. ‘But right now, I’m your superior idiot. So drive.’
50
The pool car bumped into the wee industrial estate in Northfield. It was a lot more picturesque in the sunshine — OK, the Granite Hill transmitter still loomed in the middle distance, but it wasn’t quite so angry Dalek-ish.
Logan pointed past the metal warehouses towards the Portakabins. ‘That one, down the end.’
‘And then we’re taking you home.’ She parked outside the AberRAD offices.
A big sign hung in the window, ‘CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE’.
So much for that.
Steel sniffed. ‘What now, oh great Superior Idiot?’
‘We try her home.’
Fields drifted past the car windows. They’d lost their lakes, and recovered a bit — the swathes of barley not quite so battered and bent, straightening out in the sun.
Steel frowned at him. ‘Are you sure you’re OK? Cos I’ve scraped healthier-looking things out of Mr Rumpole’s litter tray.’
‘How are you finding working for DI Vine?’
‘I’m serious, Laz. From his litter tray.’
‘Everyone seems to have really gelled as a team.’
A snort. ‘Aye, because that’s all down to Johnny “the Vampire” Vine. Man’s got the people skills of a drunk pit bull.’ She slowed for the limits at Drumoak, the fields giving way to bungalows and teeny semidetached houses. ‘See, the key to dealing with motherfunkers like Vine is: you’ve got to keep them busy. Load them down with stuff to review and meetings to attend. Leaving you free to get on with the job.’
Logan nodded. ‘Wish I’d known that when I was working for you.’
‘Wouldn’t work on me.’ She turned into a housing estate of cut-and-paste bungalows. ‘I’m no’ a motherfunker. I’m spanktastic.’
‘You keep telling yourself that.’
She took a left, then another right, past a row of homes that looked as if they’d been modelled on bird boxes. ‘I’m a damn sight more spanktastic than you.’
‘Blah, blah, blah.’
Steel smiled across the car at him. ‘Have to admit, I’ve kinda missed this.’
He smiled back. ‘Big softy.’
Danielle Smith’s building plot sat at the end of the bird boxes, sealed away behind its border wall of temporary fencing. It looked as if she had company — two other cars had joined her white Clio on the driveway.
Steel parked across the entrance, blocking them in. ‘Try no’ to get stabbed this time, OK?’
‘Do my best.’ He clambered from the car, grabbed his crutch from the rear footwell, and limped up the driveway.
Danielle had been busy — the ground floor was laid out in stud partitioning, most of it wrapped in dark-blue builder’s paper. No sign of anyone, but the smell of hot coals and barbecuing meat wafted towards him in stomach-rumbling coils of smoky goodness.
Logan hobbled up the makeshift wooden ramp and in through a gap in the woodwork.
Danielle, Raymond Hacker, and Andy Harris occupied a large skeletal room in the far corner. It was a proper suntrap, sheltered from the wind, and the two men lounged in their shirt sleeves and folding picnic chairs, drinking bottled beer from a large plastic cooler. Danielle wore a vintage Rolling Stones T-shirt, showing off a red floral tattoo that covered most of one forearm, grilling sausages on a kettle barbecue. Tongs in one hand, what looked like a G-and-T in the other.
She looked over her shoulder at Logan and Steel. Groaned. ‘What is it with cops and sausages? I swear you lot have a special built-in radar.’
Steel puffed out a cloud of strawberry vape. ‘Well would you look at that — the whole gang of tossers is here!’
Hacker curled his lip. ‘Oh grow up. You were a pain in the arse when I was a DS and you’re twice as bad now.’
‘Aye.’ Andy Harris grinned. ‘Only we don’t have to put up with it no more!’ He and Hacker clinked their bottles together in a toast. As if this was all some sort of joke. As if nothing had happened.
Really?
Logan hurpled through the maze of stud partitions towards Danielle. ‘You attacked me. You threatened me with an illegal firearm. You tied me up and stuck me in your bloody boot!’
Andy Harris’s grin got wider. ‘Some people would pay good money for that.’
She turned, tongs in hand. ‘You attacked me from behind, tied me up, and left me to burn to death! If Andy hadn’t found me, I’d be a Bacon Frazzle by now.’
‘So you admit being there?’
Danielle glowered. ‘You nearly ruined everything, you moron!’
Hacker sat forward, voice low and warning. ‘Danners...’
‘No, you know what? Time for some home truths.’ She jabbed the tongs at Logan. ‘You have any idea how long we spent getting in with those guys? Two years! Working weddings and events and charity dinners and concerts till they trusted us enough to do the Livestock Mart!’ She grabbed a sausage with her tongs and waved it at him. ‘And you swan in like a halfwit and come this close to screwing it all up.’ She slammed the sausage down again. ‘Should be ashamed of yourselves.’
Logan stared. ‘You were there to...?’
‘TO RESCUE AIDEN, YOU MORON!’ Face red, little flecks of spittle glowing in the sunlight.
Andy Harris shook his head. ‘Much good it did us. Never saw a penny of the reward.’ He thumped Hacker on the arm. ‘And has she answered any of your calls? No. Not a word. Didn’t even return your savings.’
‘That’s not fair. She’s—’
‘Oh grow up, Ray!’ Danielle hurled the tongs into the cool box. ‘All that lovey-dovey stuff was just so you’d help find her son. Soon as she got him home: nothing. She used us.’
Andy saluted her with his beer. ‘A sad truth, but a truth nonetheless. The female of the species, etc.’
Steel licked her lips, nostrils flaring as she sniffed. ‘Any chance of a sausage?’
‘See? Told you. It’s like built-in radar. And they’re vegetarian.’