The answer to that, Logan had to admit, was a resounding, “Not very.” But, he wasn’t ruling anything out quite yet.

He took a drink of his coffee, swished it through his teeth, then swallowed. “Course, maybe he or she knew where to put the knife because they have prior experience with this sort of thing. It might not be the first time they’ve killed.”

“You’re thinking serial killer?”

Logan shook his head. “I’m thinking a professional.” He picked up one of the beer mats from the table and turned it over in his hand, fiddling as he thought. “Although, why someone would order a hit on Archie Tatties is anyone’s guess.”

“I’m still none the wiser about who that is, incidentally,” Shona told him. “Was it a Scottish thing, or am I just too young, maybe?”

She smirked at that last remark, and Logan was reminded that there were a good six or seven years between them, with him on the wrong end.

“You know Cannon and Ball? Or… the other ones. Little and Large. You know them?”

“I am aware of their body of work,” Shona confirmed. “Unfortunately.”

“Right, well, Neeps and Tatties were like the Scottish equivalent of that lot.”

“Ah. Hence why I’ve never heard a word about them,” Shona said. “I’m assuming they didn’t make it across the Irish Sea?”

“No, they did. They were bloody everywhere for a while,” Logan insisted. “They started in the pubs and clubs in Glasgow, but they became huge. Toured the world. Did the Royal Variety Show. Got their own comedy series on the telly. Everything. They did the lot.”

“Oh, so a bit like Mrs Brown’s Boys?”

“Eh, aye,” Logan said, a little unconvincingly. “I suppose a bit like that, aye.”

Shona took a sip of coffee while she contemplated this. “No wonder someone wanted him dead,” she remarked, then she set her almost empty mug down. “When was all this?”

Logan blew out his cheeks. “Maybe… eighty-two, eighty-three, eighty-four-ish.”

“Right, so I was negative one years old,” Shona said. “At a minimum. Or a maximum, I suppose, depending on which way you’re counting.”

“Aye, well, you have my sympathies,” Logan told her. “You missed some classic comedy.”

“I’m sure I’ll somehow find a way to struggle on,” the pathologist replied. “What happened? How come they stopped? Or did everyone just suddenly realise they were shite?”

“It might’ve been that right enough. But, eh… I can’t actually remember,” Logan admitted. “Think maybe there was some sort of falling out between them.”

“And what have they been doing since then?”

“I have no idea,” Logan said. He drained the rest of his coffee in one big gulp. “But I’ve got a horrible bloody feeling I’m going to have to find out.”

* * *