22 Dead Little Bodies Read Free Page A

state, we can’t just—’
    ‘Are you going to arrest him or not?’
    ‘We need evidence before—’
    She jabbed the desk with a finger. ‘I
had
thought you might be different. That you’d be an
honest
policeman for a change, unlike the rest of these corrupt—’
    ‘Now hold on, that’s—’
    ‘—clearly in the pocket of drug dealers and pornographers!’
    Logan shuffled his chair back from the table an inch. ‘Pornographers?’
    ‘Justin Robson posted an obscene publication through my door; a magazine full of women performing the most revolting acts.’ Her mouth puckered like a chicken’s bum. A sniff. ‘Mr Black had to burn it in the back garden. Well, it’s not as if we could’ve put it in the recycling, what would the binmen think?’
    ‘Mrs Black, I can assure you that neither I, nor any of my team are being paid off by drug dealers
or
pornographers. We can’t arrest Mr Robson for smoking marijuana two years ago, because there’s no evidence.’
    She hissed a breath out through that long raised nose. ‘I saw him with my own eyes!’
    ‘I see.’ Logan wrote that down in his notebook. ‘And how did you determine that what he was smoking was actually marijuana? Did you perform a chemical analysis on the roach? Did you see him roll it?’
    ‘Don’t be facetious.’
    ‘I’m not being facetious, I’m trying to understand why you think he was smoking—’
    ‘You’re not going to do anything about him putting dog mess on my cherry tree, are you? You’re going to sit there and do nothing, because you’re as corrupt as all the rest.’
    Slow, calm breaths.
    Logan opened the folder and pulled out the thick wad of paperwork. ‘Mrs Black, in the last two years, you’ve made five hundred and seventeen complaints against Mr Robson; the local council; the Scottish Government; the Prince of Wales; Jimmy Shand; Ewan McGregor; the whole Westminster cabinet; our local MP, MSP,
and
MEP; and nearly every police officer in Aberdeen Division.’
    ‘I have a moral obligation, and a
right
, to report corruption wherever I find it!’
    ‘OK.’ He reached beneath the desk and pulled a fresh complaint form from the bottom of the pile. Placed it in front of her. ‘If you’d like to report me for taking money from drug dealers and pornographers, you should speak to someone from Professional Standards. I can give you their number.’
    She curled her top lip. ‘What makes you think they’re not all corrupt too?’
    Logan pushed through the double doors, out onto the rear-podium car park. The bulk of Divisional Headquarters formed walls of concrete and glass on three sides, the back of the next street over closing the gap, turning it into a sun trap. Which meant the pool car was like a sodding oven when he unlocked the door.
    Then froze.
    Scowled.
    Leaned back against the bonnet and crossed his arms as a dented brown Vauxhall spluttered its way up the ramp and into the parking space opposite.
    The driver gave Logan a smile and a wave as he climbed out into the sunshine. Broad face with ruddy cheeks, no neck, greying hair that wasn’t as fond of his head as it had been twenty years ago. A proper farmer’s face. ‘Fine day, the day, Guv. Do—’
    ‘Wheezy! Where the bloody hell have you been?’
    DC Andrews’s mouth clicked shut, then his eyebrows peaked in the middle. ‘I’ve been taking witness—’
    ‘I had to interview Marion Sodding Black!’
    ‘It’s not my fault, I wasn’t even here!’ He cleared his throat. Coughed. Covered his mouth and hacked out a couple of barks that ended with a glob of phlegm being spat against the tarmac. Leaving his ruddy farmer’s face red and swollen. ‘Gah…’ Deep, groaning breaths.
    Then Logan closed his eyes. Counted to three. Wheezy was right – it wasn’t his fault he was out working when Mrs Black turned up. ‘OK. I’m sorry. That was unfair.’ He straightened his jacket. ‘Did you find anything out at Garthdee?’
    ‘Oh, aye.’ Wheezy Doug