Dying light

And anyway, Napier can do sod all till they've finished the internal investigation. If he thought there was any chance of doing you for culpable negligence or gross misconduct you would've been suspended already. You'll be fine. Don't worry about it.'

'But DI Steel?'

Insch shrugged philosophically and munched on a pink aniseed disk. 'Aye, there is that. So you're on the Screw-Up Squad: so what? Get your finger out, don't do anything stupid and you'll be OK.' He paused and thought about it. 'Long as PC Maitland doesn't die, that is.' »

DI Insch ran a tight ship. A stickler for punctuality, preparation and professionalism, his briefings were clear and concise.

DI Steel's, on the other hand, seemed to be pretty much a shambles. There was no clear agenda and everyone talked at once, while Steel sat by an open window puffing away on an endless chain of cigarettes, scratching her armpit. She wasn't much over forty, but looked a damn sight older. Wrinkles ran rampant over her pointy face, her neck hanging from her sharp chin like a wet sock. Something terrible had happened to her hair, but everyone was too afraid to mention it.

Her team was relatively small – no more than half a dozen CID and a couple of uniforms – so they didn't sit in ordered rows like DI Insch insisted on, just clustered around a handful of chipped tables. They weren't even talking about work; half the room was on 'did you see EastEnders last night?' and the other half on what a bloody shambles the last Aberdeen-St Mirren football match was. Logan sat on his own in silence, staring out the window at a crystal-blue sky, wondering where it had all gone wrong.

The door to the briefing room opened and someone in a brand-new suit backed in, carrying a tray of coffee and chocolate biscuits. It went onto the middle table, starting a feeding frenzy, and as the figure straightened up Logan finally recognized him. PC Simon Re

Gri

DI Steel took a sip of coffee, shuddered and lit up another cigarette. 'Right,' she said, her head wreathed in smoke, 'now that DC Re

That got a groan.

'You are all here for one reason and one reason only,' she said, scratching. 'Like me, you are a fuck-up, and no one else will have you.'

DC Re

Steel listened to him with sympathy, before apologizing.

'Sorry, Constable: my mistake. Everyone else is here because they've fucked up; you're here because everyone expects you to fuck up.' More laughter. The inspector let it die down before carrying on. 'But just because those bastards think we're worthless, doesn't mean we have to prove them right! We will do a damn good job: we will catch crooks and we will get the bastards convicted. Understood?' She glared around the room. 'We are not at home to Mr Fuck-Up.' There was a pause. 'Come on, say it with me: "We are not at home to Mr Fuck-Up".' The response was lacklustre. 'Come on. Once more with feeling: "We are not at home to Mr Fuck-Up!"' This time everyone joined in.

Logan snuck a look at the other people in the tiny, untidy room. Who were they kidding? Not only were they at home to Mr Fuck-Up, they'd made up the spare bed and told him to stay for as long as he liked. But DI Steel's speech seemed to have a galvanizing effect on her team. Backs straight and heads held high, they all went through their current assignments and any progress they'd made. Which generally wasn't much. Up at the hospital, an unknown man was showing his willy to anyone daft enough to look; there was a spree of shoplifting going on at the local A

'Never thought you'd end up in here. Not like the rest of us no-hopers.'

'PC Maitland,' Logan told her. 'The straw that broke the camel's back.' Other than WPC Jackie Watson, his luck had been nonexistent since Christmas. Since then everything that could go wrong, had.

Steel nodded. Her luck hadn't been much better. She leant forward and whispered conspiratorially into his ear, engulfing his head in a cloud of second-hand cigarette smoke. 'If anyone can work their way out of this crummy team back to the real world, it's you. You're a damn fine officer.' She stepped back and smiled at him, the wrinkles bunching around her eyes. 'Mind you, I say that to all the new recruits.

But in your case I mean it.'

Somehow that didn't make him feel any better.

Half an hour later Logan and DI Steel were sat in the back of a newish Vauxhall with DC Re

Re

Logan was brooding about being transferred to the Screw Up Squad, Re

Enjoying the weather while it lasted. It would be freezing cold and bucketing with rain soon enough.

Re

'Right,' said Steel, pulling a packet of cigarettes from her pocket, fingering them, and stuffing them back again, unsmoked. 'What do we have on the next of kin?'

'Two kids, no husband. According to Vice she's currently involved with one Jamie McKi

'Oh aye? Wee Jamie McKi

Steel gave a big, snorting sniff, and chewed thoughtfully for a while. 'Come on then,' she said at last. 'Job's not going to do itself.'