‘At least it’s no’ in that polystyrene rubbish. Whoever invented that needs buggering with a hedgehog.’

The passenger door swung open and the Fiscal climbed out, looked around. Frowned. Then marched across the street to Logan’s battered Fiat Punto, heels clicking on the tarmac. ‘You’re eating chips? ’

Steel dipped a chunk of fish into the tub of snotter-green peas. ‘Would’ve got you some, but you weren’t here.’

The Fiscal’s eyes narrowed, mouth pinched. ‘Have you any idea what will happen when the press turn up and find you lot mooching around eating chips? ’

‘Thought it would be classier than a kebab.’

‘Have you been drinking? ’ The Fiscal thumped the flat of her hand on the roof of Logan’s car. ‘For goodness’ sake, Roberta, think about the impression you’re making!’

‘I’m no’ the one shouting and banging things, am I? ’

Rennie emerged from the front door of the house and waved at them. ‘Ma’am? DI Leith says he’s ready whenever you are.’

‘Go home, Roberta.’

Steel popped a chip into her mouth and chewed.

‘I mean it, Roberta!’

A shrug. ‘Sod all going on here anyway.’ She closed the lid on her cardboard box and passed it to Logan. ‘Laz, fire up the Crapmobile, the pub beckons.’

‘And never turn up half-cut to one of my crime scenes again.’ The Procurator Fiscal turned and clacked towards the house. ‘Briefing: tomorrow morning, nine sharp.’

Steel licked the peas from her fingers, then stuck two of them up at her departing back.

Rennie grimaced at them, then lifted up the line of blue-and-white ‘POLICE’ tape so the Fiscal could duck under it.

‘Course you know what this is, don’t you? ’ Steel picked something out from between her teeth. ‘Pent-up sexual frustration. PF sees me and gets all excited in her barbed-wire panties.’

‘Am I dropping you back at the pub or not? ’ Logan got in behind the wheel. ‘Should’ve been at the hospital ages ago.’

‘Mind you, bet she goes like a Rampant Rabbit wired up to the mains. I could—’

‘Do you want me to drive off and leave you here? ’

‘Touchy.’ She cupped her hands around her mouth. ‘CHALMERS, ARSE IN GEAR: WE’RE GOING!’

The DS appeared from behind a nearby hedge. ‘Sorry, Guv, I was . . . looking for a bin. To put the chip boxes in? ’

Steel opened the passenger door, then hauled the seat forward and hooked a thumb at Chalmers. ‘In the back.’ As soon as she was inside, Steel clunked the seat into place again. ‘Pretty convenient you went off a-Wombling the minute the PF turned up, isn’t it? ’

‘I. . . Recycling’s important.’

‘Didn’t want to be labelled as a prick for breathing Guinness fumes all over her, more like.’

In that case, she was a hell of a lot more sensible than Steel.

Logan cranked the engine over and drove them both back to town.