Logan spread the photos out across the desk. The close-ups of the face were the worst, there was almost nothing human left, just a battered lopsided mess swollen after four days in a warm room, speckled with orange and green mould. Whoever it was had even shaved off the poor sod’s eyebrows. The eyes were two black empty slits – always the first to go when decomposition set in.

Each hand and foot had its own photograph, thick lines of bruising circling the wrists and ankles. Fingertips and toes pulped.

Christ. . . Logan wrapped his bacon buttie up in its napkin and dumped it in the bin. Not hungry any more. Even the coffee tasted sour now.

‘—never going anywhere? Guv? Hello? ’

He blinked at Rennie. The sergeant was staring at him.

No idea. He put the photos back in the folder. ‘You think you’ve got it tough? Ever since McPherson left it’s been nothing but paperwork, and strategy meetings, and balancing budgets, and manpower rotas, and operational targets, and key performance indicators.’ The folder went back in his in-tray. ‘I dream of being a DS again. Don’t know you’re born, that’s your problem.’

A big, theatrical sigh swelled Rennie’s body, then deflated it back to floppy-armed despondency. ‘You’ll be sorry when I’m signed off on the stress.’

‘At least then I won’t have to listen to you whinge.’ He pulled out his notebook. ‘Tell me about the scene.’

Rennie shuddered. ‘He’d been dead on that kitchen floor for ages. Flies everywhere.’

‘Forced entry? ’

‘If they did, they picked the lock. No broken windows, no jimmied doors.’

‘So whoever it was, they had a key. . .’ Logan wrote, ‘ESTATE AGENTS? ’ in his notebook and underlined it twice.

‘Or someone left a window open and the satanic wee shite sneaked in and closed it after they killed him and did a runner? ’

‘Possible. You talk to the neighbours? ’

Rennie pulled a face and rolled his eyes. ‘Pair of coffin dodgers. Didn’t see anything; didn’t want to see anything.’ His voice jumped into a wobbly parody of old age: ‘Oh, Sergeant, it’s too terrible to think about, why did the Abernethys have to move to Dubai, oh the world’s such a terrible place these days, they should bring back hanging.’

‘What about the other side, did. . .’ A frown narrowed Logan’s eyes. ‘Wait a minute: satanic? ’

‘Big time: drew an eight-foot magic circle on the lino in the kitchen. Bloody thing was like a conga-line for maggots.’ He shifted in his seat, pulled his chin back, frowning. ‘Why are you looking at me like that? ’

Logan pointed at the door. ‘Go: I want copies of the crime-scene photos on my desk in five minutes. And make sure there’s some good ones of the magic circle.’

‘Urgh. . .’ Rennie hauled himself out of the chair and slouched from the room, leaving the office door lying wide open behind him.