Flesh House by Stuart MacBride

Author:Stuart MacBride [MacBride, Stuart]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, azw3, pdf
Tags: Mystery & Detective, Fiction, Police Procedural, Hard-Boiled
ISBN: 9780312584078
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2007-01-15T05:00:00+00:00

‘Do we really have to do this?’ The IB technician held the crowbar tight against his chest, eying the septic tank’s lid as if it were the trapdoor to hell.

‘Aye, DS McRae’s got a thing for other people’s jobbies, don’t you Laz?’ Steel took a deep draw on her cigarette and pointed at the concrete slab. ‘Just make sure you don’t sod up them scrape marks.’

They’d reversed the IB’s van down the lane, the little diesel generator in the back chugging away, powering a pair of halogen spotlights. The technician adjusted his breathing mask and tightened his grip on the crowbar.

Steel pointed at the septic tank cover. ‘Some time today would be nice.’

‘OK, OK, Jesus …’ He slid the end of the crowbar between the lid and the base – his SOC suit glaring in the harsh lights – and heaved. There was a grinding noise as the concrete slab shifted—‘Ah, Jesus!’ He dropped the crowbar and backed off, waving a hand in front of his face.

‘Oh for God’s sake, Frank.’ Steel took the fag out of her mouth,‘don’t be such a … fucking hell!’ She stuck the cigarette back, puffing, surrounding herself in a little protective cloud of smoke.

A rancid, cloying reek filled the small lane: raw sewage, like a hundred dirty pub toilets all at once. Logan clamped a hand over his mouth and retreated upwind, to the other side of the road.

Frank edged forward, put one blue, plastic overbootie against the concrete slab and pushed till it was fully open.

Logan had expected the smell to drop off when the lid was removed – that the air would get in and disperse the worst of it – but it just got worse.

Frank peered into the foetid darkness. ‘I am not going down there.’

Steel inched forwards. ‘Well, at least poke about with a stick, or something.’

‘Might not even be anything in there …’

‘We’re no’ going to find out, standing round like a bunch of idiots, are we?’

‘Don’t see you volunteering.’

‘Bloody right you don’t. No’ my job, Sunshine.’

He said something very rude under his breath, then grabbed a full-face splash guard and a pair of thick, black rubber gloves. Someone handed him a long pole with a hook on the end, and Frank went fishing in the Leith’s septic tank. The swearing was bad, but the smell was worse as he swirled his pole through the reeking muck.

And then he froze. ‘Found something …’

Steel didn’t look impressed as whatever it was rose slowly from the stinking depths. ‘Tenner says it’s another mouldy sheep. They chuck them in to get the bacteria going when … oh bollocks.’

It was a naked human forearm, complete with hand, covered in brown and grey sludge.

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