Free Dying Light by Stuart MacBride

stolen property …’ There was a small pause. ‘ Listen, you workin’ on that big fire? ’ Logan said no, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t interested
    – after all, a lead on Insch’s arson case might help speed his way out of the Screw-Up Squad. ‘ Perfect, how does eight sound? ’
    A rattle of keys in the lock and the front door opened. It was Jackie, back from work and carrying a pizza box from the place up the road, using her plaster cast as a tray. She saw him, and held up a bottle of Shiraz.
    ‘Hold on a minute,’ he said, slapping a hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Colin Miller wants to come over for tea.’
    Jackie snorted. ‘Not a bloody chance. Pizza, wine and bed. Maybe all at the same time.’ She put the pizza box down on the coffee table and started stripping off her trousers.
    Logan smiled. ‘Erm… Sorry, Colin, something’s come up. Got to go.’
    ‘ Eh? What? What’s come up? ’
    Logan put the phone down.
    Yawning, Logan strolled up Marischal Street, making for Force Headquarters. Nine forty-five and the sun was beginning to think about going home for the night. The day’s heat slowly leached outof the granite buildings, keeping the temperature up as the evening drifted away. There was a lot to be said for a naked WPC Watson, wine and pizza. And he didn’t even have to get all togged up in his work suit either. Tonight was a strictly plainclothes operation.
    Force Headquarters was busier than Logan had been expecting; groups of uniformed officers bustling about the place. Big Gary – looking like an overstuffed sofa in an ill-fitting uniform, clutching a Tunnocks Tasty Caramel Wafer in one oversized paw – sat behind the desk taking notes. ‘Evenin’, Lazarus,’ he said, dropping little flakes of chocolate onto the duty roster.
    ‘Evening, Gary, what’s with all the rush and scurry?’
    ‘You know there’s been all these drugs comin’ in? Well, big bust tonight: huge! Half the shift’s off to play cops and robbers.’ He frowned for a moment and flicked through the chocolate-coated roster. ‘How come you’re in? Supposed to be on days…’
    The happy smile slid from Logan’s face. ‘Night shift today and tomorrow. But I’m only on till two tonight, because I was in most of the day.’
    ‘Bastard…’ Big Gary scribbled away at the roster with a biro. ‘How come no one ever tells me anything? Who decided this?’
    ‘DI Steel.’
    Big Gary grunted and ripped a bite out of his wafer. ‘Bloody typical.’ He shook his head. ‘Eversince that Cleaver trial got fucked up…’ The phone went and so did Big Gary.
    After signing in, Logan turned round and went back out the way he’d come in, strolling down Marischal Street, over the bridge and straight past his own front door. The harbour lights were flickering on, picking out a handful of supply vessels, their huge bright-orange hulls glowing as the sun slowly set. The water was already a deep shade of violet, reflecting back the darkening sky. At the bottom of the hill Logan took a left, popping his head around the corner of Shore Lane, seeing if anyone was open for business. It was empty.
    Hands in his pockets, he strolled down the quay, visiting every alley, street and parking lot along the way. Most of the working girls he spoke to were helpful enough, once he’d sworn on his mother’s grave that he wouldn’t arrest them. They knew Rosie, they were in the same line of business, they were sorry she was dead. But not one of them had seen anything.
    He was on his second circuit when his phone exploded in a cacophony of bleeps and whistles. Colin Miller again. ‘ Just a wee call to say you’ve blown it, man. Press office says the torso’s no’ human. Just a dog. So yer bargainin’ position for info’s shot to shite .’
    Logan swore quietly, so much for his ticket out of the Fuck-Up Factory.
    ‘ Laz? You still there, man? ’
    ‘Yeah, just thinking.’ There had to be something he could give Miller… and then it