Morgan flapped her hands, grinning. ‘And I was up for Rowan, but apparently someone was just too fabulous—’

Logan ripped a bite out of his toast, chasing it down with a slurp of tea.

‘Message Four:’ An ominous pause. ‘Logan, it’s your mother. You know I don’t like talking to this thing—’

Delete.

‘—so much more fun not having to be a goody two-shoes the whole time.’ Morgan placed a hand on her chest. Lucky hand. . . ‘Three years on CSI New Orleans, and I really wanted to get to grips with a darker character for a change. Get back to my roots.’

‘You Have No More Messages.’

He finished off the toast. Have to buy another jar of Marmite. And maybe some squeezy cheese. Breakfast of champions.

‘Nichole, I have to ask you about coming back to Aberdeen after Hollywood.’

‘It’s so great to be home! People in the north-east are so real and down to earth, it’s incredibly refreshing after all that,’ onscreen, Nichole Fyfe made quote bunnies with her fingers, ‘“show business” stuff.’

Quote bunnies. What kind of person did that?

‘And I understand you’re running a competition so one lucky viewer can win a walk-on part in—’

Logan jabbed the remote control’s off button and the picture disappeared into darkness.

In the bedroom, Madness were banging on about finally being old enough to buy condoms. He slouched through to join them, drinking his milky tea between hauling on socks and pants and trousers.

‘. . .and “House of Fun”. Speaking of fun, fancy winning yourself an exclusive VIP tour of the new Witchfire movie being filmed right here in the north-east? Well, stay tuned because you’re in for a treat after David Bowie. “Let’s Dance”!’

Bloody film was like a virus.

He pulled on a white shirt that deserved a much better iron than the one he’d given it, sooking his fingers clean of butter and Marmite before doing up the buttons.

Tie, or no tie? He picked a couple from the wardrobe, then stood there, staring at the sheet of paper taped to the glass.

A blaring rendition of ‘If I Only Had a Brain’ came from his mobile. Logan blinked. Checked his watch. Been standing there like a turnip for five minutes.

Shudder.

He sank onto the bed and worked his feet into his shoes with one hand, answering the phone with the other. ‘What? ’

Rennie sniffed. ‘And good morning to you too.’

For God’s sake. ‘You’re not six.’

‘Fine. We’ve got another battered Oriental male – this one’s from Laos. They beat the crap out of him, then took a hammer to his knees and ankles.’

‘Anything? ’

‘Won’t say a word. According to the ambulance crew, he was off his tits when they brought him in – doped to the eyeballs, reeking of cannabis.’

‘What about the jewellery heist? ’