Читать книгу Logan McRae Crime Series Books 4-6: Flesh House, Blind Eye, Dark Blood - Stuart MacBride - Страница 60

Garioch View Guesthouse, Turriff – Sunday 19:54

The bed and breakfast was a crumbling building not too far from the centre of Turriff. God knew why they’d called it ‘Garioch View’, the only thing visible from the pokey rooms was a bus stop on other side of the road and a swathe of grimy red sandstone houses. According to the landlady, Marek Kowalczyk was out, but he’d be back later – probably half-cut – so they parked the CID pool car two doors away under a streetlight, where they’d have a good view of the entrance. Logan wound the car window down, letting in the cool night air.

DI Steel shivered in the passenger seat. ‘You trying to give us all hypothermia? Shut the bloody window.’

‘Put your shoes back on then.’

‘No.’

‘Smells like mouldy Gorgonzola in here.’

‘Cheeky bastard. Anyway, Alec’s no’ complaining, are you Alec?’

The cameraman leant over from the back seat. ‘No, but that sod Paul gave me his cold, didn’t he?’ Blowing his nose for dramatic effect.

‘See: Alec’s got pneumonia and you won’t shut the window. You trying to kill him?’

‘Fine. OK. Whatever.’ Logan wound the window back up. ‘Jesus …’

Garioch View Guesthouse, Turriff – Sunday 20:13

Still no sign of Kowalczyk. DI Steel yawned, stretched, then said, ‘What’s green and smells of pork?’

Logan didn’t look up from the copy of yesterday’s Evening Express he’d found on the back seat. ‘No idea.’

She grinned at him. ‘Kermit’s willy!’ Pause for laughter. Nothing. ‘Miserable sods.’ She rubbed at the small of her back. ‘Why can’t we go wait for him in the B&B?’

‘Because the DCS and Rennie are in there. You really want to spend the whole evening listening to Rennie banging on about how much he loves his girlfriend?’

‘Good point.’

Garioch View Guesthouse, Turriff – Sunday 20:31

‘No, but don’t you think it’s a bit weird?’ said Alec, offering round a packet of Lockets, ‘I mean Kermit’s a frog right? He doesn’t have a penis, so how’s he supposed to get it on with Miss Piggy? What’s he going to do: wait for her to lay her eggs, then squirt his sperm all over them? Not exactly a fulfilling sex life, is it?’

Steel turned to look at him. ‘Pigs don’t lay eggs. Chickens do.’

Logan pointed off down the street at someone stomping their way home in the dark. ‘There! Is that him?’

The inspector dragged her binoculars out of the glove compartment …‘No.’

‘Damn.’ Logan went back to his crossword.

Garioch View Guesthouse, Turriff – Sunday 21:04

‘So how come,’ said Logan keeping one eye on the deserted street, ‘in The Muppet Christmas Carol, Kermit and Miss Piggy—’

Steel: ‘You mean Mrs The Frog, they were married in that one.’

‘How come they had two piglet daughters and one little frog boy?’

Alec: ‘Maybe they adopted.’

Steel: ‘She was screwing around behind Kermit’s back. Can’t say I blame her: he’s no’ got a penis, remember?’

Alec: ‘Artificial insemination. My cousin Peter and his wife had that.’

‘Ah,’ Logan boinked a finger off the steering wheel, ‘then why didn’t they have some sort of freakish half-pig-half-frog hybrid child?’

There was a thoughtful pause. ‘Maybe that’s why Tiny Tim was dying: he wasn’t genetically viable.’

Garioch View Guesthouse, Turriff – Sunday 21:17

‘Christ I’m bored!’ Steel slumped back in her seat and put her hands over her face, muffling a scream. ‘Aaaaaaaaaaargh!’

Logan checked the dashboard clock: they’d been here nearly three hours. ‘He’s got to come home some time – all his stuff’s still in his room.’

‘Aye, well I’ve had enough. I’m no’ spending all night with you and Captain Sniffles here, talking about the reproductive habits of fucking Muppets!’

Alec stuck his head between the two front seats. ‘But this is going to be the final showdown! Grampian Police catch the Flesher! You want to be here for that, don’t you?’

‘What I want is a huge glass of Chardonnay, a jar of marmalade, and Keira Knightley in a thong. How about you, Laz?’

‘Shhh!’ Logan dug about in his jacket pocket, looking for the photo they’d got from the abattoir’s personnel files.

‘Don’t you bloody shoosh me. I’m no’ the one banging on about Kermit the Frog’s sex life.’

‘I think it’s him!’

The figure weaving along the road towards them paused for a moment to swig from a litre bottle of supermarket vodka. Thick moustache, little round glasses, cleft chin. ‘It’s Kowalczyk.’

‘Right.’ Steel hauled her shoes back on. ‘Here’s what we do: when he gets level with the car, we jump him.’

‘We’re supposed to let him go into the B&B, and take him there, remember? Rennie and Bain—’

‘What the hell’s wrong with you?’ She smacked Logan on the shoulder. ‘Carpe fucking diem!’

‘What if he does a runner?’

Steel chewed on the inside of her cheek. Kowalczyk was getting closer. ‘If we lose him, we’re up shite creek without a snorkel …’ She scowled. ‘OK, OK, we’ll stick to the plan. You happy?’

Kowalczyk took one more swig, threw his arms wide, and started singing.‘Sto lat, sto lat, niech żyje, żyje nam!’ He lurched into a little dance.‘Sto lat, sto lat, niech żyje, żyje nam!’

Steel pulled out her mobile and started dialling. ‘Come on, come on… Yeah, Bill, it’s Koalasick – I don’t care if that’s not how you bloody pronounce it: he’s outside. Heading up the drive … now.’

He was really getting in to the swing of things, bellowing out, ‘Jeszcze raz, jeszcze raz, niech żyje, żyje nam!’ He nearly collapsed into a knot of scabby rosebushes, then gave it laldy for the finale: ‘NIECH ŻYJE NAM!’

Fumble for key … two … three … four … key in the lock. Stagger inside. Steel was back on the phone again, ‘He’s in. We’re on our way.’ She clambered out into the cold night and marched across the road, Alec trailing along behind her, filming everything.

Logan was just locking the car when a loud crash sounded inside the B&B … then a television smashed through the lounge window in a shower of glittering glass.

Someone shouted, ‘Come back here!’

‘Odpierdol sie!’ Marek Kowalczyk followed the television set, leaping out through the shattered window, landing in the rosebushes.‘Kurwa!’ Then he was scrabbling out the other side and away, sprinting back down the street, arms and legs pumping like mad.

Logan leapt back in the car, cranked the key, and roared out onto the street. ‘Shit!’ He slammed on the brakes and the Vauxhall screeched to a halt again, two feet short of flattening DI Steel as she ran out into the middle of the road, waving her arms. She wrenched open the passenger door and threw herself inside.

‘Don’t just sit there! Get after the bastard!’

Logan put his foot down.

They were just in time to see Kowalczyk take a left onto Main Street. The pool car skittered into the turn, leaving a screech of tyres behind. Logan slapped the siren button, and the distinctive Weeeeeeeeeeeooooooow blared out, blue lights flashing behind the front grille.

Kowalczyk glanced back over his shoulder and put on a fresh burst of speed.

Which was why he didn’t see the Volkswagen Golf coming the other way.

Marek Kowalczyk had time for one last ‘Kurwa!’ before it hit him.

A screech of brakes. The THUMP of flesh meeting metal clearly audible over the pounding music. Pinwheeling limbs. The wet crunch of a body slamming down onto the tarmac.

And then someone screamed.