In the Cold Dark Ground (35 page)

‘Deal.’

She reached across the car and shook his hand.

Ricky curled his lip. ‘Yeah, good try. I’m completely bricking it back here. Woe is me, etcetera.’ He shifted from side to side in his seat. ‘Amateurs.’

Ah well, it’d been a longshot anyway.

Logan took them out through the town limits, following the OSU van on the road to Fraserburgh.

One last go. ‘Ricky?’ Logan caught his eye in the rear-view mirror. ‘Hamish Mowat only died on Wednesday and you’re already climbing into bed with Jessica Campbell? Not very loyal, is it?’

No reply.

‘How do you think Reuben’s going to feel about that? Think he’s going to be happy?’

Ricky Welsh squirmed for a moment, then shrugged. ‘No comment.’

‘What do you think he’s going to do to you when he finds out?’

‘No comment.’

Maybe Harper would have more luck with Fowler and McDowell? Who knew, maybe Fowler would keep his trap shut about delivering a package for Logan? And maybe pixies and fairies would scamper out of DCI Steel’s backside and buy them all fish suppers for their tea.

Ricky Welsh was probably right, ‘no comment’ was the only way to go.

Steel yawned, showing off grey fillings and a yellow tongue, then slumped in her chair. ‘Time is it?’

Logan checked. ‘Nearly half one.’

Fraserburgh station was coffin quiet, not so much as the creak of a floorboard to break the spell. Wind battered the windows in the Sergeants’ Office, hail crackling against the glass. Outside, the streetlights bobbed and weaved, their pale-yellow glow blurred by the weather.

‘Half one…’ Steel slumped even further, trouser legs riding up to expose pale hairy shins. ‘Bored. Knackered.’

‘So go home.’

‘
And
my ribs hurt.’

He shut down his computer. ‘So – go – home.’

‘Feels like someone’s given me a going over with a lawnmower.’ At least that would explain the hairstyle.

‘There’s no point hanging around here. One: we have to wait for everyone’s lawyers to turn up. Two: then we’ve got to wait for them to coach their clients in the ancient art of denying everything. Three: Harper says she’s sitting in on all the interviews, so it’ll take
hours
before it’s done.’ He stood and stretched, wincing as it pulled at the bruises along his back. ‘Might as well Foxtrot Oscar, go home, and get some sleep.’

Another yawn. ‘Harper? You no’ on first-name terms yet? After all those years you spent swimming about together in your dad’s testicles, think you would’ve developed some sort of bond. Calling each other “Sir” and “Sergeant”. No’ natural.’

‘Why is every woman in my life a pain in the backside?’

Steel grinned. ‘Your own fault for being part of the oppressive patriarchal hierarchy.’ She scratched at her belly. Frowned. ‘I want chips.’

‘Good for you.’ He fastened his equipment belt, then Velcroed on his stabproof vest. ‘Now are you coming or not?’

‘Chips.’ Steel banged on the arms of her chair. ‘Chips, chips, chips, chips, chips!’

So this was what having a toddler was like.

‘Suit yourself. But don’t say I didn’t—’

A knock on the door, then Narveer poked his turban into the office. His eyes were swollen around the bridge of his nose, a circle of black flecks crusting each nostril. ‘Sergeant McRae? Detective Superintendent Harper would like to see you downstairs regarding the two gentlemen we arrested at the Welshes’. Interview Room Two please.’

Ah.

She’d found out about him and Stevie Fowler.

Well, it had to happen sooner or later.

‘Right.’ Deep breath. A nod. Then he followed Narveer out into the corridor, back straight, chin up.

All the way down the stairs, the Detective Inspector peered at him. Not saying anything.

At the bottom he stopped, put a hand on Logan’s arm. ‘Sergeant McRae, I understand this is probably very difficult for you.’

Now there was an understatement.

‘But I need you to see it from the Super’s point of view.’

Her brother was involved in organized crime. Yeah, that would probably be a bit embarrassing for her. But it wasn’t as if she didn’t have plausible deniability, was it?

‘Sergeant McRae, Logan, just because she’s known about you for years, it doesn’t mean she’s used to the
reality
of the situation.’

She wasn’t the one who’d end up doing eight years in HMP Glenochil with all the other dodgy police officers and vulnerable prisoners.

‘Give her time, OK? She’s a
much
nicer person when you get to know her.’

What?

Logan licked his lips. ‘You sure about that?’

‘She’s been an only child her whole life, well, except for the spectre of you and your brother. And now here you are,’ he poked Logan in the shoulder, ‘in the flesh.’ A shrug. ‘Given how much she hated you last week, she’s come a long way.’

Yeah…

‘Anyway, better not keep her waiting.’ Narveer led the way through the station, along its creaky galleon floors, to a bland door with a big ‘2’ painted on it and a laminated sign: ‘NO PERSONS TO BE LEFT UNATTENDED IN THIS ROOM AT ANY TIME’.

Narveer knocked, then opened the door.

Harper was sitting there, on her own. Violating the signage. She tried on a smile. ‘Sergeant McRae, I want you to sit in on the interviews with Fowler and McDowell. I need a result on this one. You did a good job bursting Martin Milne, let’s see if you can do it again.’

Oh great.

Sit in a little room, trying to get the guy who was meant to deliver an illegal package to him to incriminate himself without mentioning Reuben, or Logan, or the illegal package.

Because that was going to go
so
well.

And it’d be videoed, so they’d have him on record fiddling the truth.

Wonderful.

Eight years for being concerned in the supply of controlled drugs – Contrary to Section 4(3)(b) of the Misuse of Drugs Act 1971, M’lord – and another eight for trying to pervert the course of justice.

Hurrah.

‘Are you all right, Sergeant? Only I thought you’d be pleased at this show of faith.’

‘Yes.’ He pulled on a smile of his own. It hung there like a scar. ‘Thank you.’

Screwed, screwed, screwed, screwed, screwed.

‘For the record, I am now showing Mr Fowler exhibit Sixteen A.’ Harper held up an evidence bag full of small white pills. ‘Do you recognize these, Steven?’

The interview room smelled of aftershave and tobacco, both of which oozed out of Fowler as if he’d been drenched in them. He’d been stripped of his hoodies, sandshoes, and skin-tight jeans and given a white SOC suit instead – rustling every time he moved. ‘Are they pills of some kind?’ Playing it wide-eyed and innocent.

At least it made a change from the usual ‘no comment’.

‘Seriously, Steven?’ She glanced at Logan. ‘Can you believe this guy?’

Fowler shrugged and spread his hands. ‘What am I supposed to say? They look like some sort of pill to me.’

‘What kind of pill?’

‘I’m doing my best to cooperate. I could have lawyered up and I didn’t, did I? I really want to help, but me and Nick were only there to look at a mountain bike. If I’d known they were drug dealers we’d never have gone. Honestly.’

Harper stared at him. Then wrote something down in her notebook, tore the page off, folded it, and handed it to Logan: ‘
F
EEL
F
REE
T
O
A
CTUALLY
C
ONTRIBUTE
A
T
S
OME
P
OINT
.’

Well, there was probably no point putting it off any longer.

Logan cleared his throat. ‘Have you been in the market for a mountain bike for long, Steven?’

‘Yeah. Totally.’

‘I see. Good. And what do you do, when you’re not shopping for second-hand bicycles? Got a job?’

Pink bloomed in Fowler’s cheeks. ‘Not at the moment.’

‘I see.’

He shifted in his seat, then ran a hand across his sideways quiff as if checking it was still there. ‘I’m not on benefits or anything, OK? Got made redundant last week, that’s all.’

‘I see.’

‘Me and Nick worked as roustabouts for two years … then the oil price, you know?’

Silence.

‘Wasn’t our fault. Everyone says they’re tightening their belts, yeah? Well,
their
belts are cutting off
our
circulation. How am I supposed to support my kids with no job?’

‘I see.’

Fowler leaned forwards, shoulders scrunched up around his ears. ‘It’s not easy out there. Yeah, I got my redundancy, but it’s not going to last, is it? Got to make your own way in the world, can’t rely on handouts, can you?’

Logan tapped his pen against his notebook. Tap. Tap. Tap. Like a metronome.

Fowler stared at it. ‘Man’s got to work. That’s what we wanted the bike for. Going to start a messenger service in Aberdeen. Point-to-point for oil companies and that, you know?’

Tap. Tap. Tap.

‘I mean, everyone’s got packages they need delivered, right? Letters and bids and tenders and things. Stuff you can’t email.’

Tap. Tap. Tap.

‘And that’s why we were there. Need to buy a couple of bikes to get it off the ground.’

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He wrapped his arms around himself. ‘See. Nothing weird about it. Just two blokes trying to pay their way.’

Tap. Pause. Tap. Pause. Tap…

Harper sighed. ‘Interview suspended at one forty.’ She pressed the button, then stood. ‘I suggest we take a comfort break and reconvene in five minutes. Sergeant McRae will look after you.’

As soon as the door shut behind her, Logan leaned forward, mirroring Fowler. ‘Steven? I know who you are.’

Fowler blinked at him.

‘You’re already delivering packages, aren’t you? That bit of your story was true.’

He bit his top lip and stared at the tabletop. ‘Don’t know what you mean.’

‘Oh come off it, Steven, I know, OK? Reuben – the package, hiding it?’ He picked up the notebook and slammed it down again. ‘I
know
.’

Fowler flinched. His shoulders trembled. ‘I don’t… It… We…’

‘You were supposed to drop off a package.’

‘Oh Christ…’ He scrubbed a hand across his face, as if he was trying to rub some life back into it. ‘Who told you?’

‘Well?’

‘Yes. There was a package.’ Fowler scooted forward in his seat, talking low and fast. ‘Look, it hasn’t been easy, OK? The redundancy. It’s… I
need
to make money. I’ve got two kids and an ex who thinks I’m made of the bloody stuff. So I do a bit of delivery driving, it’s no big deal, is it? A bit of picking up and dropping off?’ He bared his teeth. ‘Only I need a lot more than picking-up and dropping-off money. So I thought, why not? I mean, it’s not like this Reuben guy’s going to shop me to the police if I nick his drugs, is it? How’s he even going to know?’

Really?

‘I think he
might
notice.’

‘No, think about it: I pull a fast one at the handover, I keep the stuff but give
them
fake pills. Nick films it on his phone, so it all looks cool. See? We gave the guy the stuff, so it must be
them
what stole it, not us. We’re in the clear.’ Fowler bit his bottom lip. ‘All’s fair in love and dealing, right?’

‘All’s fair? Have you any idea what Reuben does to people who steal…’ Logan narrowed his eyes. Wait a minute: give the guy the stuff? The
guy
. Not
Logan
. Steven Fowler had no idea who he was. ‘What about this guy you were meant to deliver the package to?’

‘What about him? Probably some drug-dealing scumbag. Not like anyone’s going to miss him.’ Fowler raised his nose. ‘If you think about it, I’m doing society a favour.’

He didn’t have a clue.

‘Who is he: the guy who’s getting the package? Name?’

A shrug made the SOC suit crackle. ‘First parking spot, west of Portsoy, half two Tuesday morning is all I got. No names.’

The details were exactly the same as Urquhart had given him. Only Urquhart had trusted Logan with Stevie Fowler’s name.

He really didn’t know.

A smile crept across Logan’s face.

Fowler pulled his chin in and sat back. ‘What? What’s so funny?’

Maybe he could get away with this after all?

Harper sighed her way back into her seat. Clicked the button on the recording unit. ‘Interview recommences at one thirty-seven.’

Logan gave her a grin. ‘Mr Fowler would like to make a statement, wouldn’t you, Steven?’

He twisted his head to one side, shoulders up. The sideways quiff was developing a distinct droop. ‘Yeah.’

‘Just tell Detective Superintendent Harper what you told me.’

Fowler puffed his cheeks out, then nodded. ‘OK, here’s the thing…’

Harper stared down the corridor as Fowler was led back to the cells. Then she turned to Logan. ‘How did you do that?’

He closed the interview room door. ‘Got lucky, I suppose.’

‘No. I was only gone for six minutes and when I got back, there he was singing like a parakeet. You did the same thing with Martin Milne.’

‘You want to take a quick pop at McDowell too? Let him know Fowler’s trying to dob him in as the brains of the operation.’

Tiny creases appeared between her eyebrows. ‘Why are you still a sergeant?’

‘Say, fifteen minutes to grab something from the vending machines? Then I’ll get McDowell into number three.’

‘You should be a DI by now, at the very least. You’re three times the cop that wrinkly disaster is.’

Logan shrugged, then headed towards the stairs. ‘Tried being a DI once, didn’t like it. Either you’re a dick and make someone else do all your paperwork and rosters, or you’ve got sod-all time to do any investigating.’

She shook her head, following him up to the canteen. ‘You really do take after Dad, don’t you?’

‘No idea.’

Dark fields whipped past the Big Car’s windows, banks of grey snow lining the road.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Steel didn’t bother to stifle the yawn that made her head look like a flip-top bin. ‘Knackered.’

‘Well you should have gone home when I said, shouldn’t you?’ Logan pressed the button on his Airwave. ‘Sergeant McRae to Constable Nicholson, safe to talk?’

There was a pause, then, ‘
Aye, aye, Sarge.
’

‘How’s it going, Calamity?’

‘
Like a grave. Not a creature is stirring, not even a druggy. Must be the weather.
’

‘Good. Tufty behaving himself on his last night in nappies?’

‘
He’s brought in fancy pieces. And I mean,
really
fancy.
’

Steel thumped Logan on the arm. ‘Make sure they save some for us. I’m starving. Had nothing to eat but two packs of Wotsits and a Toffee Crisp since midnight.’

‘Wanted to check in and make sure everything was all right.’

‘
Thanks, Dad.
’

‘We’ll be back in time for threeses.’ He let go of the button.

The tarmac glittered with frost that flared in the headlights then disappeared back into the night.

Steel dug her hands into her armpits. ‘Have you got a deep-fat fryer back at the house?’

‘No.’

‘Chip pan?’

‘No.’

‘What kind of Scotsman are you?’

More fields.

They drifted through the limits at Crudie, dropping to fifty. Not that there was much of it: the place was little more than a scattering of houses spread out along the road. If it weren’t for the dirty big signs at either end with ‘
CRUDIE
~
P
LEASE
D
RIVE
C
AREFULLY
’ on them you’d barely know it was there.

Logan glanced across the car. ‘I saw the interview, by the way. You and Jack Wallace.’

‘Oh aye?’

‘Seemed like a lovely man. You know, apart from all the sexual assaults and treating women like they’re punchbags.’

‘Wallace is a prince all right.’ She shook her head. Then turned and stared at Logan. ‘You’re Napier’s bitch now, aren’t you?’

‘Well what did you want me to do, refuse to help him? That wouldn’t look suspicious, would it? At least this way I’m on the inside, I can … finesse things.’

She slid further down in her seat, then plonked both feet up on the dashboard. ‘Blah, blah, blah.’

‘Look, Napier says he’d be just as happy exonerating you. And it’s not like you actually
did
anything, is it?’

No reply.

Logan glanced at her again. ‘Did you?’

‘Course I didn’t.’ She pursed her lips and hummed for bit. ‘Once upon a time, in the fabled granite city of Aberdeen, there lived a man named Jack Wallace. Now Jack Wallace wasn’t a very nice man, in fact he was a complete and utter bastard. He liked to attack women, beat, and rape them. It made him feel big and clever.’ Steel turned her face to the window. ‘One sunny evening in May, Wallace drugged and raped a seventeen-year-old girl called Rosalyn Cooper. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he filmed it on his phone and used it to blackmail her into a “relationship”.’ Steel made quote marks with her fingers. ‘So he could keep on raping and battering her without having to bother shelling out for drugs.’

Logan tightened his grip on the steering wheel. ‘He
filmed
it?’

‘Now Rosalyn thought her mother and father would blame her for the attack, and they would throw her out of the house and never speak to her again. And Wallace told her everyone would call her a slut and a whore and she’d never get a job or any friends ever again. And she was so scared and traumatized, she actually believed him.’

Steel dug out her e-cigarette and took a long slow drag, setting the tip glowing bright blue. ‘Then one day, a brave knight rode in on a big white horse with a sharny arse, and she said, “Come on, Rosalyn, you’re no’ to blame here. It’s that scumbag Wallace who’s at fault. We’ll do him for rape and make sure he gets locked away for years and years and years.” But Rosalyn was too scared to press charges, because if she did it would all come out and her parents would know and they’d never love her again. And the brave knight told her they could get round that. They could make it work. But she was too scared.’

‘What happened?’

Steel blew a line of steam at the windscreen. ‘It wasn’t even the first time he’d done it. The first poor cow he filmed ended up in a secure ward doped up to the ears because spiders kept crawling out of her fingertips. Completely – and utterly – broken.’ A small laugh broke free, but there was no humour in it. ‘So Rosalyn did the only thing that made sense to her: she climbed into a very hot bath with a bottle of vodka and a craft knife. Her little brother found her next morning. Apparently he sees a therapist twice a week now.’

More fields.

They passed the turn-off to Gardenstown.

Logan shook his head. ‘So get a search warrant, find the phone, and show the footage to the Procurator Fiscal! Get the scumbag charged.’

‘You really think I’ve no’ tried that? Can’t get a warrant on the word of a dead girl.’ Another line of steam hit the windscreen. ‘And even if I could, what’d that prove? She’s drugged in the video: she’s no’ fighting back, and it’s no’ as if she can testify in court, is it? We’d never get a conviction.’

More fields – wide, flat and rolling beneath the icy moonlight.

‘Tell you, Laz, I’ve
never
had a better day than when I turned up at Wallace’s house to give him a hard time and found a ton of kiddy porn just sitting there on his laptop.’ This time the laugh had a lot more joy in it. ‘I mean, a
slideshow
for God’s sake! Wee shite was probably gearing up for a good wank when I turned up and spoiled the romantic mood. And now he’s got six years of spanking his raping wee monkey cock in a prison cell. Assuming he can get it up without staring at images of abused kids, or beating the crap out of some poor woman. Serves him right.’

Hard to argue with that.

Steel grinned across the car at him. ‘You know what? I’m in such a good mood I’m even prepared to put up with oven chips, if you’ve got any?’

Logan peered out of the bedroom window at the street below. Steel wound her way along the road, having had to settle for cheese on toast and a large Balvenie instead. When she’d disappeared from view, he shut the curtains and pulled out his mobile.

Dialled John Urquhart.

The phone rang and rang and rang. Then finally, ‘
Mmmph? Hello? What?
’

‘You can tell Reuben the delivery’s off.’

‘
What? Who’s…
’ A cough rattled out of the earpiece. ‘
Mr McRae? What time is it?
’

Logan’s eyes flicked to the clock-radio – 03:32. ‘The delivery’s off. Stevie Fowler got himself arrested in a drugs raid four hours ago.’

Urquhart yawned, then swore. ‘
He got himself arrested?
’

‘He was never going to deliver the package, it was all a scam so he could steal the drugs and sell them to a local dealer.’

‘
Oh, Reuben’s going to
love
that. Is there—
’

‘And before you ask: no. He’s confessed in front of a detective superintendent from the Serious Organised Crime Task Force. There’s no way in hell he’s walking free.’

Urquhart made a noise like a deflating mattress. ‘
That’s … unfortunate. And did Mr Fowler happen to mention where he’d got the package from in the first place?
’

‘And where he was meant to deliver it. Good job he didn’t have my name, or I’d be in the cell next door by now.’

‘
And the package is…?
’

‘The kilo and a half of amphetamines? He’d already sold it. It’s evidence.’

A sigh. ‘
Mr McRae, you know how Reuben’s going to react, don’t you? He doesn’t like people who steal from the organization.
’

‘Really? Because I don’t like people who threaten my kids and SEND THUGS ROUND TO KILL ME!’ Logan slammed his palm into the wallpaper.

‘
I understand where you’re coming from, Mr McRae, but you really have to put that behind you and move on.
’

‘Move on?’

‘
Seriously, dude, chill. I had a word with the Reubenator and smoothed things out. Told him he can’t kill you
’
cause you’re the executor for Mr Mowat’s will. He bumps you off and everything’ll take forever to sort out.
’

‘And what happens after the will’s executed, he sends someone else?’

‘
That’s how the system works: the big dog eats the small dog. You don’t like getting bit? Be the bigger dog.’

Logan settled onto the edge of the bed. ‘I’m supposed to just forget about it?’

‘
No, you’re supposed to bite back.
’ A pause. ‘
So, we’ll see you tomorrow?
’

Tomorrow?

Oh, right, the reading of the will. ‘Don’t think I’ve got any choice.’

Not now.

Logan hung up and switched off his phone.

He stood there, frowning down at the bed. Then knelt beside it and fished out the polished wooden box. Should really give the gun a proper wipe down, make sure there were no fingerprints on it.

Tomorrow was going to be a big day.