Logan McRae Crime Series Books 4-6: Flesh House, Blind Eye, Dark Blood. Stuart MacBride

her face as Isobel’s assistant rinsed the sewage away.

      And somehow Logan didn’t feel as pleased with himself as he had.

      Aberdeen was a sparkling blanket – yellow and white streetlights shining in the deep blue November night outside DCS Bain’s office window. The head of CID stood with his back to the room, staring out at the view. Taxis drifted by on the streets below; drunken clots of Aberdonians lurched for the nearest club, chip shop or taxi rank; the sound of sirens in the distance. Nearly midnight.

      ‘Why the hell wasn’t that septic tank searched the first time round?’

      ‘Why would they?’ Steel didn’t bother covering her mouth, just let go a jaw-cracking yawn, followed by a little burp. ‘God … no reason to think this was anything other than what it looked like.’

      ‘Insch should have—’

      ‘Yeah, well, he didn’t. And if it was me, I wouldn’t have either. And neither would you, Bill.’

      The DCS turned and stared at Logan. ‘But you did, Sergeant?’

      ‘It was just a hunch …’

      Steel clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t be so modest! Tell you, Bill, he—’

      The DCS cut her off. ‘The question is: what are we going to tell the media? How’s it going to look when they find out her body lay undiscovered, less than thirty feet from her house, for a fortnight? DI Insch—’

      ‘Don’t start, Bill, OK? Been a long day and I can’t be arsed fighting with you.’ Steel stretched out in her chair, making creaking noises. ‘Doesn’t matter what we tell the press: they’ll just make up their own shite anyway.’

      ‘You’re not seeing the big picture here, Inspector. We told the world and his bloody dog that Wiseman killed Valerie Leith, didn’t we? And if that’s not bad enough, it looks like the same person killed the Inglises and Tom and Hazel Stephen. Where was Wiseman at the time? Craiginches!’ The DCS sat back behind his desk. ‘So now we’ve got two psychopaths out there, butchering their way through the populace, and our only suspect is looking less and less guilty every day!’

      ‘Actually,’ Logan dug in his jacket pocket, pulled out the dog-eared copy of Smoak With Blood Steel had given him, and dumped it on the desk, ‘We do have another suspect.’

      ‘What,’ the DCS examined the cover, ‘Jamie McLaughlin?’

      ‘No, William Leith. I found a copy of that in the master bedroom.’

      Steel made a sound like a drowning elephant. ‘You remembering he nearly got his head chopped off?’

      ‘They have an alarm system at the croft, but somehow the killer managed to break in without setting it off. Then he dismembers Valerie Leith and dumps her in their septic tank. How did he know where it was? I’ll bet if we search the garage again we’ll find a crowbar or something that matches the grooves in that septic tank lid.’

      ‘But Leith’s head—’

      ‘Wouldn’t be the first time someone’s injured themselves to shift the blame, would it?’

      The DCS swore, grabbed his phone and started dialling. ‘Yeah, Pete, it’s me. I want William Leith brought in… No, no I don’t. I want him here now … Well, I don’t care, do I? Just sort it!’ He hung up, steepled his fingers, brooded for a minute, then asked Logan, ‘You still friends with that journalist scumbag?’

       32

      ‘All hail the conquering hero!’ DI Steel was sitting in Logan’s chair, feet up on his desk, a copy of that morning’s Aberdeen Examiner open on her lap. ‘Where the hell you been? I came in hours ago.’

      ‘Really?’ Logan stuck the brown plastic tray from the canteen down in front of her. ‘Because Big Gary says you didn’t get in till eleven. It’s only quarter past.’

      Steel grinned, ‘Aye, aye: make with the bacon buttie, hero boy.’

      He handed over a tinfoil package and sat back against the room’s only radiator. ‘I didn’t write the bloody thing, OK?’

      Steel unwrapped her buttie and tore a huge bite out of it. ‘Chief Constable Baldy Brian wants to congratulate us personally for catching Leith. Of course, I put it all down to my inspirational leadership and—’

      ‘You’ve got tomato sauce on your blouse.’

      The inspector peered down at her chest. ‘Aw no’ again!’

      ‘Anyway,’ Logan picked up his coffee and went to peel the Leith crime scene photos from the death board, ‘not as if makes any difference, is it? Doesn’t get us any closer to catching the Flesher.’

      ‘Are you mental?’

      ‘Well, it doesn’t, does it? He’s still out there—’

      ‘God, no’ again… Fine, be miserable. Your glass might be half empty, but mine runneth over. No’ had a pat on the back from Baldy Brian for ages.’ She took another massive bite, chewing happily. ‘Mmmmph, mmm, mph-mmmm?’

      ‘Yeah, I suppose. But not till Insch comes back.’ He slipped the crime scene photos back in the Leith file, then stuck the whole thing in his out-tray. ‘If there’s nothing urgent on, I thought I’d go home and—’

      ‘Oh no you don’t! You heard the DCS last night: if Wiseman’s slipping out the frame we need to find someone else to pin all this shite on. You and me are going through that 1987 case file with a nit comb.’

      ‘You’re kidding – we pulled a twenty-hour shift yesterday!’

      ‘Aye, well feel free to whinge to your Federation Rep about it. And have one for me while you’re there.’ She polished off the last of her bacon buttie, scrunched up the tinfoil and lobbed it at the bin. Not even close.

      ‘We’ve already been over the historical stuff, and—’

      ‘And now we’re doing it again. OK?’ She sooked something out from between her teeth and chewed. ‘Don’t be such a work-shy bastard. Our pat on the back’s not till after lunch: plenty of time to get cracking.’ She pulled out her cigarettes and stood. ‘Let me know how you get on. I’ll be in a … meeting. Yeah – anyone asks I’m in a meeting.’

      Logan stifled a yawn, took another mouthful of coffee, and crawled back inside the McLaughlin case file. He hadn’t been entirely honest with DI Steel – he’d not really read the whole thing before. Not all of it. He’d just skimmed the day-to-day stuff on his way to the post mortem and crime scene reports. Going through it from start to finish was something of a revelation.

      Once Detective Chief Inspector Brooks – this was 1987, before he’d got the promotion to DSI – had Ken Wiseman in his sights, he never looked at anyone else. As far as Brooks was concerned, Wiseman was guilty.

      It was the car boot full of blood that had done it. Brooks kept coming back to it in the transcripts, time and time again.

      DCI Brooks: Stop messing us about Ken, we know you did it.

      Wiseman: I told you! It was a roe Deer, OK? Found it at the side of the road.

      DCI Brooks: Do you seriously expect me to believe—

      Wiseman: It was still twitching. I took it home and butchered it.

      DCI Brooks: They found human blood in there too, you idiot.

      Wiseman: Mine. It