Blind Eye (11 page)

And then it was time for the money shot. A look of utter horror spread across Krystka Gorzalkowska's face, just moments after the other stuff.

'Cut!'
Zander appeared on the screen, marching into shot.
'Krystka, darling, you know I love you, but you can't keep doing this. It's only sperm, it's perfectly natural and it's not going to hurt you. Kurt's medicals are all up to date. Aren't they Kurt?'

Kurt grimaced.
'Please tell me we don't have to go
again
!'

Krystka burst into tears and Zander wrapped her up in a big hug, careful not to get any perfectly natural sperm on his jumper.
'Come on, sweetheart.
Napij sie herbaty.
Would you like that? Nice cup of tea?
' Then he led her out of shot.

Three beeps and the screen went blank.

'See?' The director leaned back in his chair. 'Does that look like I'm forcing anyone to do
anything
they don't want to?' Another slurp. 'We tried putting a happy face on her with the computers, but to be honest it's going to be cheaper just reshooting her scenes with someone else.'

'Well...' Logan put the photo back in his pocket. 'Maybe she was working for another outfit? Who else makes porn films up here?'

'We're the only professional studio in the North East, so it's probably just some gonzo operation. Amateurs. I can ask around if you like?'

Steel coughed. 'Can you put the first lot of humping back on again?'

The director shrugged, hit some buttons, and the screens filled up with pink. 'I...' He cleared his throat. 'I was
so
sorry to hear about Inspector Insch. It was a terrible shame.'

And one Logan really didn't want to talk about. 'Yes, well...'

'Is he doing OK? My dear old dad had a heart attack and it knocked the stuffing right out of him. Pretty much gave up after that.'

'We need to--'

'Only, I was thinking: if Insch wanted something to keep him busy, I could always use him here?'

DI Steel shuddered. 'No' in a porn film! Jesus, who'd want to see all that blubber humping about?'

'I
meant
as a production assistant.' Zander stuck the topmost of his chins in the air, the others stretching out behind it. 'And some people
like
larger men, thank you very much!'

'I was only--'

'Actually,' said Logan, 'if we could get back to Krystka Gorzalkowska? How did you get hold of her?'

'Kostchey International Holdings Limited, it's an agency: they specialize in Polish actresses for adult films. Absolute Godsend. Their girls look fabulous, most of them can sing, they remember their lines, and they can act too. I can't get local girls who look anywhere
near
as good - all the attractive ones want to be on crap like
Big Brother
or the
X-Factor
.' Sigh. 'No one wants to be a porn star anymore.'

DI Steel was disturbingly happy on the drive back to her house, staring at the pair of brand-new DVDs the director had given her as a parting gift:
Harriet Potter and the Gobbler of Firemen
and
Indiana Jane and the Temple of Dildos
. The covers were surprisingly classy. 'Bet these are packed with girl-on-girl actiony goodness.'

'I want to check with the agency, see if they hired Krystka out to another outfit.'

'Supposed to be having the weekend off, remember? Phone the station, tell them to get some idiot to do it. If Rennie's back, he'll do.'

She turned in her seat, staring out at the sunshine as they slogged their way towards the Bridge of Don. 'Susan couldn't pick me up today because she's...' Steel fidgeted with the DVDs some more. 'She had an interview with the adoption and fostering people.'

'Thought she liked being an accountant?'

'Not a job interview, you moron. For a kid.' She cracked her window open and lit a cigarette, blowing a mouthful of smoke at a passing cyclist. 'Susan wants a kid. She's always wanted a kid.'

'Ah.'

'It really matters to her and I'm... Well, I'm no' exactly
Mother of the Year
material, am I? Got to go see some social working cock-weasel on Tuesday, convince them I'm the sort of person you'd want to give a wee baby to.'

Logan followed the queue of traffic across the bridge, listening to the plaintive wail of seagulls in the background. 'You're a shoo-in. They'll love you.'

'I'm no' good with children! I'm a forty-three-year-old lesbian chain-smoker who swears like a fucking sailor and boozes it up every night.'

Logan couldn't believe that. 'Forty-three?'

'Oh, shut up.' She spent a couple of minutes smoking and scowling. 'Any fuckwit under the sun can get his girlfriend knocked up and bang: he's a dad. Doesn't matter if he's a junkie, a wino, or a pervert, as long as he's got a working dick he gets to make babies. No one from the Social interviews
him
, do they? How fair is that?' She smacked her hand on the dashboard, sending an avalanche of ash all over the black plastic. 'Aw shite...' She swept the worst of it up and turfed it out of the window, leaving a grey smear behind. 'No fags, no drink, and no swearing. That sound like me to you?'

'Maybe it won't be as bad as--'

'You know what? Sod it. If I've got to be someone else for the rest of my life, I'm bloody well giving the old me a good send off.' Steel flicked the last of her cigarette out into the beautiful afternoon, where it ricocheted off the side of an electrician's van. 'Call the gang, Laz: seven o'clock tonight we're getting blootered and hitting a titty bar.'

Classy.

But never let it be said that Logan wasn't a team player.

11

The Monday morning briefing had a carnival atmosphere to it, everyone lounging in their chairs, talking about where they were going on holiday. DC Rennie - tanned and smug - handed out a mound of bacon butties, the tinfoil packages releasing their savoury-scented steam into the crowded room. Logan's stomach growled, then lurched as Rennie stuck one under his nose, saying, 'Don't say I'm never good to you.'

'Urgh ... get that bloody thing away from me!'

The constable sank into the next seat. 'God, you're not
still
on that vegetarian nonsense are you? Been seven months: get over it.'

'You know what you can do with your bacon buttie? You can shove it right up your--'

The door opened and everyone sat up, shut up, and prepared to pay attention. Only it wasn't DCI Finnie standing in the doorway - hauling his bra up with one hand, and carrying a plastic bag from Tesco in the other - it was DI Steel. She paused and stared at them all. 'Don't tell me he's
still
no' here!'

She finished rearranging herself, then took the seat on the other side of Rennie. The constable smiled and offered her Logan's rejected buttie. 'Got an extra one for you.'

She took it without a word, ripped a huge bite out of it, then sat chewing in scowly silence.

Rennie sniffed. 'You're welcome.'

'Oh don't be such a whinge.' The inspector's words were muffled by a cheek-straining mouthful. 'Is this going to take long? Only I've got a date with a rapist called Norman.'

'You know, when I was in Thailand--'

Steel made a little naked sock puppet out of her left hand and went, 'Blah, blah, blah. Look at me, I'm Defective Constable Rennie, and I went to the Far East with Gary Glitter Tours.'

The constable blushed. 'That's not funny.'

'Aye it is. Isn't it Laz?'

Logan shook his head. 'Didn't you hear? Rennie's got himself a grown-up lady friend. About twenty years older than he is.'

'Is it his mum?'

Rennie scowled. 'That's the last time I get a round of bacon butties in. Ungrateful bastards.'

'Does she make you a packed lunch in the morning and tell you not to talk to strange men?'

'Just--'

'Read you a bedtime story?'

'We--'

'Bet she gives your arse a good spanking when you've been naughty.'

And at that, Rennie's blush got even redder.

'She does!' Steel laughed, spraying out a claggy mush of half-chewed bread and bacon. 'Oh, you are such a pervert!' Five minutes later she was obviously getting bored of winding the constable up, because she shouted across the room: 'Hoy, Pirie - where's your lord and master?'

DCI Finnie's sidekick looked at his watch. 'Supposed to be here.'

'I know where he's
supposed
to be, what I want to know is where he actually is!'

'Em...'

'Oh for God's sake.' Steel marched down to the front of the room. 'Right, we're none of us getting any younger, so: briefing. Everyone who's on an active case, stand up.'

Tumbleweed.

'Aunty Roberta says, on your feet, you lazy bastards!'

Reluctantly, they did as they were told, the sound of rubber-soled chair legs squeaking on the green terrazzo floor.

'Better.' Steel crossed her arms. 'Right, if you can see someone else on your case who outranks you, sit your arse down.'

That left half a dozen Detective Constables and Detective Sergeants. The inspector made them all give a little report on their investigations: background, current status, and estimated chances of not cocking the whole thing up. The last one standing was DS Pirie.

He ran a hand through his wiry ginger hair, straightened his suit jacket on his skeletal frame, and brought everyone up to date on Operation Oedipus. The slideshow was set up ready for the absent DCI Finnie, and Pirie started at the beginning. The very first victim's tattered face filled the screen. 'Tolek Dobrowski, twenty-three, electrician, originally from Gdansk.'

Steel scrunched up the tinfoil her bacon buttie came in and lobbed it at the detective sergeant. 'Don't sod about, we've been over this already. Tell us something we don't know.'

Pirie flushed, filling in the space between his freckles. 'Fine...' He went scrabbling through his notes. 'The ... here we are: the only thing our victims had in common, is that they're all Polish nationals, except for Simon McLeod. And none of them will tell us anything about what happened, or why.' He turned and poked the projection screen. 'Someone does
that
to you, and you don't talk to the police?'

Steel snorted. 'They're scared, you idiot. What do you think our eye-gouger would do to them if he found out they talked: bake them a cake? Move on!'

'Ah, yes, well...'

Rennie stuck up his hand. 'Why are we calling him Oedipus?'

Pirie squared his shoulders, scowling at the interruption. 'If you'd been paying attention
Constable
, you'd know why. Now--'

'Yeah, but Oedipus slept with his mum, murdered his dad, then gouged his own eyes out. He didn't blind anyone else.'

Steel snorted. 'And if anyone knows about sleeping with his mum, it's Rennie.'

Laughter.

The constable blushed. 'If you want a proper name we should call him Cornwall - he's the one who blinds the Earl of Gloucester in King Lear. You know, Shakespeare?'

Pirie just stared at him. 'If you don't have anything constructive to add,
Constable
: shut up.'

Rennie put his hand down and Finnie's sidekick nodded. 'Now, does anyone else have any stupid comments...?' Silence. 'Good. We got Dr Goulding to update the profile following the attack on DS McRae and DI Steel on Friday. I've got copies here at the front - make sure you take one and
read
it. Dr Goulding believes we're now looking for two men.' The e-fits appeared on the screen. 'You'll have seen these faces on posters all over town, but bear in mind they're probably wrong. No offence to DS McRae, but his source is highly questionable. Posters went up Friday evening and we've not had a single positive identification yet. So forget the e-fits: we're looking at a pair of men in their
mid to late twenties
. One will be older than the other - probably very charismatic - the younger man is following him and may be mentally subnormal.'

Steel made another Rennie joke.

Pirie carried on, ignoring the laughter: 'We need to start looking at the usual care-in-the-community jobs. Find out if any of them have recently fallen in with an older man.' The DS fiddled his paperwork into a neat pile. 'I would have expected the Polish community to come out in force on this one, given the fact it's them being targeted, but I get the feeling they wouldn't talk to us even if they knew. It's a conspiracy of silence out there. Keep that in mind when you're interviewing them - they don't trust us.'

The inspector let Pirie finish his briefing before she handed out the day's assignments. 'One last thing,' she said, before anyone could escape, 'the language in this department is fucking shocking. We're going to do something about that.' She grabbed her carrier bag from the floor and dragged out a big tin of Quality Street.