“So…” he prompted when the awkwardness became too much to bear. “What does bring you down this way? You here for business or pleasure?”

“The first one,” Logan said. “I’m investigating a quadruple homicide.”

“Fucking hell. You are keeping your hand in,” the Gozer said. “This the telly guy?”

Logan’s eyes narrowed a fraction. Not in suspicion so much as annoyance. The Gozer sat back and smiled.

“I’m a man in the know, Jack,” he said. “I was talking to Detective Superintendent Mitchell about it earlier this afternoon. She spoke surprisingly highly of you, in case you’re interested.”

“No’ really,” Logan said. “Anyway, I picked up a couple of leads down this way. Thought I’d come down and have a chat with them.”

The Gozer interlocked his fingers on a stomach that had grown more ample since Logan had last seen him. His hair, too—once a flat top that had earned him his Ghostbusters inspired nickname—had continued its inexorable retreat towards the back of his head.

“And you didn’t think to keep me in the loop?” he said, adding a couple of disappointed tuts at the end for good measure.

“This is me keeping you in the loop now,” Logan replied.

“And…?” the Gozer prompted.

“And I need a bit of local info,” Logan admitted.

“Bingo. There we go. Knew you weren’t just here out of courtesy,” the senior officer crowed. “I can see right through you, Jack. I’m surprised you’re asking for my help, though. You always prided yourself on knowing the local scene better than the rest of us. You were fucking insufferable at times, if I recall.”

“Aye, well, things change,” Logan said. “I’ve been away a while, and the guy I’m interested in is a relatively new player in town.”

“Well, I’m sure a few of your old team members will be able to assist you,” the Gozer said. He raised an eyebrow. “Heather, perhaps? I seem to recall you two being quite… friendly.”

Logan bristled. “I’d rather not get bogged down by reunions. They don’t know I’m here, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. I just want a bit of information, and ideally an address.”

The Gozer gave a shrug that seemed to say, ‘Your loss,’ then he took a pen from a holder on his desk and rested the point on a wedge of sticky notes. “Right, fire away. Who are you looking for?”

“Frankie Cowan.”

The pen started scratching, then stopped almost immediately. The Gozer’s head snapped up. “Fuck. Shuggie Cowan’s nephew?”

“He’s on your radar, then?” Logan asked.