‘I’m going home, OK? Had to process someone who was sleeping with Anthony Chung. And Agnes Garfield.’

Ding-Dong sidled closer, big hairy paw fidgeting with the knot on his tie. ‘Why? ’

‘Because soon as she heard Anthony was dead, she clammed up and demanded a lawyer. Sound suspicious to you? ’

‘And you think this woman and Agnes are in it together? They both killed Anthony Chung and Roy Forman? ’

Logan stuck the keys in his pocket. ‘Or she’s just messing with us, because that’s the kind of thing she enjoys. Either way, I’m going home.’

Ding-Dong took a step back, looking away down the corridor in the vague direction of the cell block. ‘You think I should have a pop at interviewing her? ’

‘You can if you want, but it’s. . .’ A frown. Wait a minute. . . DI Bell’s suit looked immaculate, as if it’d just been pressed, the shirt freshly ironed. His shoes shone like new buttons too. And what was that smell? Logan sniffed: aftershave. Ding-Dong never wore aftershave. ‘What are you up to? ’

‘Nothing wrong with being a team player.’

‘Yeah, but you’re being all possessive about this soup-kitchen thing – a lead I turned up, by the way – you want to interview Stacey Gourdon, you’re dressed up like you’re off for a job interview, and you smell like a tart’s underwear drawer. . . What have you heard? ’

A blush coloured his freshly shaven cheeks. ‘I don’t see what’s wrong with—’

‘Making a good impression? It’s Steel, isn’t it? You’re angling for the DCI’s job.’

‘Now you’re just being—’

‘What’s the ACC told you? . . . They’re looking to get shot of her, aren’t they? They think she’s not up to the job and you want to take her place.’

Ding-Dong raised his chin, letting a tuft of black fur poke out over his shirt collar. ‘I’m not going to dignify that with a response.’

Logan stared at him for a couple of beats. ‘OK, fine. Whatever. Nothing to do with me: I’ve got an appointment anyway.’

‘Good.’ He turned and lumbered down the corridor, broad shoulders rolling beneath the straining shirt.

‘Watch your back, Ding-Dong. She’s bloody vicious if you cross her.’

DI Bell stopped with one hand on the door handle. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ And then he was gone.

Logan’s phone vibrated in his pocket. Another text message.

Where R U? Thot we sed 8:30?

Speaking of which. . .

He picked out a reply on the mobile’s little keyboard.

On my way now. See you soon.

After all, it wouldn’t do to keep a lady waiting. Especially not one that could kick his arse from Grampian to Strathclyde.

Chapter 34

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