The questioning hadn’t been particularly probing, despite Hank having, moments before, expressed his desire to kill the victim. Logan had simply enquired about when Hank had last been in any sort of contact with Archie, and what his movements had been over the course of the previous week.

It had been enough to send Hank into what he described as ‘a right tizzy,’ though, and Logan hadn’t objected when he asked if he could leave the room for the aforementioned nose powdering.

He wasn’t going to come back, the DCI knew. Not the version of him that had left, at least.

There was a screech of triumph as the living room door was thrown wide. A figure that was all dress, hair, and fingernails came striding in on heels so high they probably came with a safety net.

“Holy fuck!” Tyler caught himself ejecting, and the dozing dog in his lap growled at him again in her sleep.

“Bitches and gentlefolks, Ms Fellatio McFudd has entered the building!” the towering drag act boomed.

The movements were nothing like Hank’s. His had been quicker, smaller, more furtive. His alter ego’s were none of those things. While Hank had scurried out of the room, Fellatio didn’t walk back in so much as sweep. Her hands and arms moved constantly, weaving slowly through the air like two snakes having the last dance of the evening.

Hank had plastered enough makeup on to change not just his complexion but his skin tone. He was still black, but Fellatio’s face was paler, with more of an orangey hue. Long blonde eyelashes and bright yellow lipstick added a level of grotesqueness that was only heightened by the talon-like fingernails painted in a rainbow of sunshine shades.

“Y’alright, gents?” she asked, and the accent was suddenly from somewhere in the east end of London. “Making yourself comfortable, are we? Room for a small one in the middle?”

She winked salaciously, licked her lips, then started to sit before either detective could move. They managed to part just in time to save the dog getting squashed, or any inappropriate knee-sitting incidents.

“This is cosy, isn’t it?” Fellatio grinned. Despite the other transformations, the teeth were the same stained yellow as before. “A right little ménage à trois we’ve got going on here, don’t we?”

She reached for the cigarette pack on the coffee table, lit one, then took a draw on it. She held it differently, Logan noticed. Where Hank had seemed embarrassed by his smoking habit, Fellatio relished it.