‘The cannabis was about twenty-one percent THC, which is phenomenally high. And the blister pack of pills we found was Risperidone. It’s an atypical antipsychotic – might be to counteract the weed? ’

No wonder all of Agnes’s friends thought she was a basket case.

Chalmers made a little humming noise. Then: ‘Here we go. . . The computer says Agnes’s dad, Mark Garfield, has been done for speeding, Council Tax evasion, and once for assault.’

‘So he’s violent.’

‘Got into a fight in a pub. I can try digging out the details if you want? ’

‘What about the mother? ’

‘Doreen Garfield: five warnings for threatening behaviour. Once told Agnes’s maths teacher she’d rip his balls off and make him eat them.’

‘OK, that’s—’

‘Apparently he said Agnes was thick. Another thing: I got a surname and an address for our mysterious Stacey. Her flatmate says she’s not been home since Friday night, didn’t turn up for work this morning either. Apparently it’s not unusual. She’s going to give me a call soon as Stacey shows.’

There was that efficiency again. ‘Good. Keep on it.’

‘And I’ve been looking through that red leather notebook we found in Agnes’s cupboard under the stairs, it’s exactly the same as the one the character—’

‘Rowan from Witchfire.’

‘Oh. . .’ Silence. ‘I haven’t read the book for years, but I picked up a copy at lunchtime and guess what: the Fingermen burn witches by—’

‘Necklacing. I know.’

This time the silence stretched on and on and on.

‘Chalmers? ’

‘Sorry, Guv. I’ll. . .’ She cleared her throat. ‘Anything else I can do? ’ Sounding a little desperate.

Steel tapped him on the shoulder. ‘See if I’m no’ back in the office by five, you’re getting my boot for a butt plug. ’

‘Find out where they are with the remains from this morning. Then take a look at Rennie’s racial hate crimes – see if you can come up with anything.’

‘You can count on me!’ And she was gone.

Steel blew a wet raspberry, the spray of spittle glowing in the sunshine. ‘Have you still no’ solved that one yet? ’

He walked up the path and rang the doorbell. ‘Investigations are still ongoing.’

‘And my arse is peanut butter. I’m no’ having racist scumbags running round crippling people, Laz.’

‘Well, tell you what, I’ll wave my magic wand and. . .’ The door opened.

Agnes’s dad blinked out at them, a tin of Export in one hand, a remote control in the other. ‘Mmm? ’ The smell of beer came off him in thick waves. Not bad going for half four on a Monday afternoon.

‘Mr Garfield.’ Logan folded his arms. ‘Something else you failed to mention: she took an overdose in February.’

Garfield shaded his eyes with the hand holding the remote. As if he was trying to change the channel on Logan. Fat chance. ‘I . . . didn’t think it was—’