She had another squint at the X-ray, scratching at the image where the battered nose met the bone. ‘Shame we can’t get a good look at the nasal sill. . . But if you add in the interocular distance, short nasal spine, and the rounded palate, it means you’re probably looking at an Oriental male. And given the openness of the sutures and the fact he’s got three wisdom teeth at full occlusion, we can guesstimate an age of somewhere between seventeen and twenty-five. Probably. Give or take.’

Dr Graham shrugged. ‘If you can talk them into letting me deflesh the skull, it’d help. Or if you can find me the missing teeth. . .? ’

An Oriental male, early twenties, lying tortured in the middle of a Ring Knot from Witchfire. Someone who knew Agnes Garfield well enough to go there with her. Someone probably too stoned to put up much of a fight. Maybe someone who’d been screwing around behind her back?

Someone like Anthony Chung.

PC Sim curled her top lip. ‘Grave robbing? Seriously? ’

Logan handed her the stable isotope analysis. ‘She had to get the remains from somewhere. Either she’s stumbled on a shallow grave, or she’s gone mining for bodies in the local cemetery.’

‘Urgh. . . Grave robbing.’

‘Look for females from the north-east, between sixty and seventy years old, died up to forty years ago. And they had syphilis.’

Sim scanned the report. ‘You know what, Guv? I’m guessing there’s not going to be enough bodies missing to muddy the issue.’

He pointed down the corridor towards the main CID office. ‘Less sarcasm, more looking for dead old ladies.’

She rolled her eyes, then turned and ambled away and through the double doors, arms swinging at her sides like a grumpy wind-up toy.

No bloody respect, that was the problem with officers today.

Still, at least they were getting somewhere for a change. Almost. . .

He unlocked the door to his office, opened it, then froze.

Crap.

Steel was sitting behind his desk, with her feet up, fake cigarette glowing between her bared teeth. ‘Make it good.’

Slam the door. Slam the door right now and RUN!

Logan licked his lips. ‘How’s the review meeting going? ’

‘HOW THE GOAT-BUGGERING HELL DO YOU THINK? ’ Spittle flew in the grey light. ‘I told you—’

‘I was out trying to catch her, OK? I wasn’t sitting about the boardroom table poncing about with whiteboards and Post-it notes.’ He hung his jacket on the hook by the door. ‘So if you want to rant and rave for a bit, go ahead. But don’t expect me to care.’

Steel narrowed her eyes. ‘Bunch of soap-dodging tossbags, telling me how to run a murder enquiry. . .’

‘I know something that’ll cheer you up: I think we’ve got an ID on our Kintore victim.’

Steel stared at him. ‘Well? ’