He had a face that cried out for a custard pie. The thick lenses of his black-rimmed glasses exaggerated his eyes so they looked cartoonishly huge. They were fixed firmly on Logan as the DCI spoke—too firmly, in fact. It was like Billy had read a book on how to make a good impression, and abandoned it halfway through the chapter on making eye contact.

It would’ve almost been unnerving, were Billy not five-foot-five with shoes on, and about nine and a half stone soaking wet.

The shop was much like any other mobile phone repair shop Logan had ever been in. The outside was an affront to taste and design, with frontage so bright yellow it could probably be seen from space. The main sign above the shop, and the three other smaller signs that filled the glass of the windows and doors, all had pictures of mobile phones on them. Even Logan could tell they were at least five years out of date now, which probably rendered them obsolete.

As they’d approached the shop, he’d wondered what unique affliction the owners of mobile phone repair shops had that left them unable to choose a decent typeface for their signs. Logan was no expert on such matters—not by a long shot—but even he could tell that none of the four different fonts used in the sign of Billy’s shop looked in any way professional or pleasing to the eye.

Inside, the walls were lined with gaudy phone and tablet cases of every conceivable size, colour, and shape. The only thing they had in common, in fact, was the ‘Made in China’ stickers affixed to the plastic wrapper of each one.

Well, that and the fact that no bugger was buying them.

Cardboard cups from the sandwich shop next door stood around Billy’s workspace like pawns on a chessboard. The aroma of coffee permeated the place, though it at least masked the smell of damp that occasionally wafted through from a small back room that was half-hidden by a bead curtain.

“So, you say the last time you saw Archie was in December of last year?” Logan asked.

He was well aware that this was the answer that Billy had given just moments before, but he was buying time for Tyler to finish hunting his pockets for his notebook.

“That’s right. He came in here. To the shop.”

“Got it,” Tyler announced, finally tracking down the missing pad. “Carry on, boss. I’ll just… Shite. Have you got a pen?”

Logan fished a plastic promotional pen from a jar on the counter. “Do you mind?” he asked Billy, then he passed it back when the shopkeeper shook his head.

“Cheers!” Tyler said, before a look from Logan made him shut up and get writing.

“Did he come to see you often?” Logan asked the man behind the counter.