six days ahead of my bloody shift pattern! It took bloody ages to get the damn things in line!’
‘I know, I know. I’ll just have to get mine shifted again. Though Christ knows when.’
‘And I had plans.’
Logan looked up. ‘Oh? We going away somewhere?’
‘Not any more we’re not, you’ll be asleep all bloody Friday.’ Stab, stab, stab. ‘Tell you I could kill her!’
‘Oh-ho, speak of the devil…’ DI Steel was standing in the doorway to the canteen, craning her neck. Looking for someone. And Logan had a nasty idea who. He was just about to duck down under the table, pretend he’d dropped his fork or something, when she spotted him.
‘Oi! Lazarus,’ she shouted and Logan winced. Every eye in the place turned to stare. ‘You finished?’ She didn’t wait for him to answer. ‘Well, come on then: we’ve got a shout to go to.’
Jackie leaned over the table and hissed at him, ‘I thought you were supposed to be going home to get some sleep!’
It was a Mrs Margaret Hendry who’d found it, out walking her dog, Jack, in Garlogie Woods. Well, technically it had been Jack who’d found it, leaping away into the undergrowth, barking and yipping. Not coming back, no matter how much Margaret shouted. In the end she’d duckedin under the trees after him. It was just off a small clearing, wedged into the roots of a fallen tree: a red suitcase, big enough to take a week’s worth of clothes. The smell was appalling: stinking, rotten meat. Jack of course had gone straight to it, and was hanging off the handle, all four little legs off the ground as he tried to scrabble inside. Well, what with the smell and the suitcase, it wasn’t difficult to put two and two together. Margaret pulled out her mobile phone and called the police.
The Identification Bureau’s dirty white Transit Van was abandoned in the lay-by, just behind a marked patrol car, so Logan had to park their rusty Vauxhall half on the grass verge and hope no one would run into the back of it. DC Rennie spluttered his way out of the back seat, wiping ash from his hair and face – Steel had spent the whole ten-mile journey out from Aberdeen with the passenger window down, the ash from her cigarette spiralling through the car’s interior like a mini snowstorm – which was why Logan had elected to drive. He waited until the inspector had shooed Rennie up the path to go find the crime scene, before asking her if this meant he wasn’t swapping over onto the night shift.
‘Hmm?’ Steel looked at him, distracted as she picked three individually wrapped white SOC over suits from a box in the boot of the car. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘Sorry, but I still need you to go looking for witnesses. We both know Jamie’s alibi’s a crock of shite. We just have to prove it.’
‘Then how come you dragged me out to this?’ It came out slightly whiny, but Logan was past caring.
Steel sighed. ‘What am I supposed to do? You know why they call it the Screw-Up Squad? The Pish Patrol? The Fuck-Up Factory?’ Cos every bastard that can’t find their backside with both hands gets dumped in it. Keep the useless tossers out of the way, where they can’t do any damage … We only got this call ’cos everyone half-decent was busy.’ She smiled, sadly. ‘It’s a body in a suitcase, Logan, who else am I going to trust to take with me? That bunch of fuckwits I’ve been lumbered with?’ She handed him the protective gear. ‘Never mind, you don’t have to do a whole shift tonight. Knock off about two. Look on it as a bonus.’ Then she patted him on the arm and stomped off up the rutted track into the forest, leaving him to swear quietly in her wake.
They found DC Rennie standing at the side of the track, about half a mile from the main road. There were broken branches and scuffmarks in the carpet of yellow-brown pine needles. ‘In there,’ he said pointing, obviously proud of himself. Logan gave him the protective gear to carry. As the inspector
‘I know, I know. I’ll just have to get mine shifted again. Though Christ knows when.’
‘And I had plans.’
Logan looked up. ‘Oh? We going away somewhere?’
‘Not any more we’re not, you’ll be asleep all bloody Friday.’ Stab, stab, stab. ‘Tell you I could kill her!’
‘Oh-ho, speak of the devil…’ DI Steel was standing in the doorway to the canteen, craning her neck. Looking for someone. And Logan had a nasty idea who. He was just about to duck down under the table, pretend he’d dropped his fork or something, when she spotted him.
‘Oi! Lazarus,’ she shouted and Logan winced. Every eye in the place turned to stare. ‘You finished?’ She didn’t wait for him to answer. ‘Well, come on then: we’ve got a shout to go to.’
Jackie leaned over the table and hissed at him, ‘I thought you were supposed to be going home to get some sleep!’
It was a Mrs Margaret Hendry who’d found it, out walking her dog, Jack, in Garlogie Woods. Well, technically it had been Jack who’d found it, leaping away into the undergrowth, barking and yipping. Not coming back, no matter how much Margaret shouted. In the end she’d duckedin under the trees after him. It was just off a small clearing, wedged into the roots of a fallen tree: a red suitcase, big enough to take a week’s worth of clothes. The smell was appalling: stinking, rotten meat. Jack of course had gone straight to it, and was hanging off the handle, all four little legs off the ground as he tried to scrabble inside. Well, what with the smell and the suitcase, it wasn’t difficult to put two and two together. Margaret pulled out her mobile phone and called the police.
The Identification Bureau’s dirty white Transit Van was abandoned in the lay-by, just behind a marked patrol car, so Logan had to park their rusty Vauxhall half on the grass verge and hope no one would run into the back of it. DC Rennie spluttered his way out of the back seat, wiping ash from his hair and face – Steel had spent the whole ten-mile journey out from Aberdeen with the passenger window down, the ash from her cigarette spiralling through the car’s interior like a mini snowstorm – which was why Logan had elected to drive. He waited until the inspector had shooed Rennie up the path to go find the crime scene, before asking her if this meant he wasn’t swapping over onto the night shift.
‘Hmm?’ Steel looked at him, distracted as she picked three individually wrapped white SOC over suits from a box in the boot of the car. ‘No,’ she said at last. ‘Sorry, but I still need you to go looking for witnesses. We both know Jamie’s alibi’s a crock of shite. We just have to prove it.’
‘Then how come you dragged me out to this?’ It came out slightly whiny, but Logan was past caring.
Steel sighed. ‘What am I supposed to do? You know why they call it the Screw-Up Squad? The Pish Patrol? The Fuck-Up Factory?’ Cos every bastard that can’t find their backside with both hands gets dumped in it. Keep the useless tossers out of the way, where they can’t do any damage … We only got this call ’cos everyone half-decent was busy.’ She smiled, sadly. ‘It’s a body in a suitcase, Logan, who else am I going to trust to take with me? That bunch of fuckwits I’ve been lumbered with?’ She handed him the protective gear. ‘Never mind, you don’t have to do a whole shift tonight. Knock off about two. Look on it as a bonus.’ Then she patted him on the arm and stomped off up the rutted track into the forest, leaving him to swear quietly in her wake.
They found DC Rennie standing at the side of the track, about half a mile from the main road. There were broken branches and scuffmarks in the carpet of yellow-brown pine needles. ‘In there,’ he said pointing, obviously proud of himself. Logan gave him the protective gear to carry. As the inspector
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