“I find that very hard to believe, boss,” Tyler said, and he jabbed at his Chicken Kiev like he might be able to surprise it and catch it with its defences down. No such luck.

Although, given how much difficulty Logan was having with the chewing and swallowing process, being unable to even cut into his own lunch might turn out to be for the best.

“What did you think of Billy Neeps?”

Tyler looked up from his ongoing battle with his lunch. “Eh… fine. Seemed alright.”

“Nothing strike you as weird?” Logan pressed.

“Weird? I mean… he was a bit odd, right enough, but nothing in particular, boss. How come?”

Logan ground something between his teeth, then shuddered. “I didn’t like his reaction to us being there. It felt off.”

“In what way, boss?”

“Well, I mean the two of us turn up at your shop, tell you we’re from the polis… I don’t know about you, but my first reaction is concern. Has something happened to my wife?”

Tyler frowned. “Your wife?” he asked, then the penny dropped. “Oh. Billy’s wife. You’re Billy. Right.”

“I wonder if there’s been an accident. I ask the question, at least. It’s the first thing that crosses my mind,” Logan said. “Unless I’m already expecting a visit.”

“You think Billy might be involved?” Tyler asked.

Logan made a non-committal grunt. “I don’t know.”

“How would he even know where to find Archie though, boss? Seems to me like he was in hiding.”

Logan conceded the point. “Aye. There’s that, right enough. But someone knew where to find him.” He hacked through another piece of meat and shoved it in his mouth. “Shona’s PM for Archie was interesting,” Logan announced out of the blue. “Did you read it?”

Tyler drew his head into his shoulders, bracing himself. “Eh, was I meant to, boss?”

“Well, ideally you’d have at least had a glance at the bloody thing, given that you’re investigating his murder, but I didn’t specifically tell you to, if that’s what you mean?”

Across the table, Tyler relaxed. “Good stuff. Then no, I haven’t had a chance to look yet. What’s interesting about it?”

The meat in Logan’s mouth was going nowhere. This bite, if anything, was more determined to hang on than the first one had been. He trapped it between his back teeth and bit down, then momentarily froze when something went pop.

“You alright, boss?”

Logan glanced at his napkin, considered disposing of the contents of his mouth, then decided that he was no coward, and battled on with it.

“Fine. So, Archie’s post-mortem.”

“Stabbed?”

“Aye. We knew that, though. You know what we didn’t know?” Logan asked. He let the question hang there for a moment, before answering it himself. “He had cancer.”