‘Already? Who’d we get? ’

‘Superintendent Smith, Wee Hairy DS Kelly, and DS Watson.’

A groan. ‘And are the two of you on speaking terms this week, or are you going to sit and glower and snipe at each other all through the review? Because that would make it even more fun.’

‘Hey, I got you chips, remember? ’

‘Because things aren’t bad enough with the bloody ACC nipping my arse every five minutes. “Oh the press are up in arms.” “Oh the Chief Constable’s no’ happy.” “Oh if only Finnie was here. . .” Aye, like the frog-faced tosser could just turn up, wave his magic fairy wand, and solve everything.’ Steel skewered a chip, then frowned at it drooping there on the end of her plastic fork. ‘Any tomato sauce in the bag? ’

‘Another thing: a couple of Forman’s associates said he was getting professional therapy. Give you odds on Agnes was too. Might be worth following up on? ’

‘Why’d you no’ get any tomato sauce? How am I supposed to eat chips with no tomato sauce? ’

‘Macaroni cheese with tomato sauce is disgusting. What about a TV appeal? ’

‘Yeah, well . . . you eat Marmite. That’s like a wee jar full of Satan’s turds.’

‘She’s still in the city: she used Anthony Chung’s cards. They’re holed up somewhere, so someone’s bound to spot them.’

‘Know how they make Marmite? ’

He scooped up another chunk of cheddar-covered tuna. ‘I’ll get onto the media department. See if they can set something up.’

‘There’s this mine in darkest England and at the bottom of the mine there’s a big crack in the earth.’

‘Not listening.’

‘And the Devil sticks his arse up through the crack, and they send this bunch of murderers, bastards, and rapists down there to scrape up the lumps and bung them in jars.’

‘No way Roy Forman can afford to see a private therapist, so whoever’s treating him: it’s on the NHS. Shouldn’t be too hard to track down.’

‘It’s true, there’s video of them doing it on the internet.’ She drummed her fingers on the desktop. ‘Come on, I know you’ve got some in your desk.’

‘I’m not giving you tomato sauce.’

A little smile tugged one side of Steel’s face upwards. ‘Do you a swap.’ She leaned down and clunked open the bottom drawer of her return unit. When she straightened up there was a rectangular box in her hand, about the size of a thermos flask, wrapped in anonymous brown paper. She waggled it at him. ‘Told you I got a present for you.’

Logan put his plastic fork down and shrank back in his seat. Frowning. ‘What is it? ’

‘Tomato sauce first, present later.’

‘Right. . . Well. . .’ Logan stood, gathered up his baked potato. ‘I’ll just . . . go get that then.’

And escape.

Chapter 28

28