‘Everyone on the film knows to look out for the Garfield woman. I’m not having her anywhere near my people.’

Which explained the secret-service-style muscle.

A pale woman appeared in the hatch, wearing far too much eye makeup, her spiky ash-blonde hair sticking up in all directions. ‘What can we get you, my darling? ’

‘I don’t know. . . Chicken? ’

‘Coming right up.’

Insch scowled at him. ‘I forgot what a bunch of freeloading bastards CID—’

‘It’s not for me, it’s for someone too terrified to come over, in case he gets grabbed and killed like Roy Forman.’ Logan pointed at the pair of heavies with the earpieces. ‘Or maybe it’s your rent-a-thugs scaring him away? ’

The scowl didn’t shift. ‘Your bloody colleagues act like they’ve never seen food before. I swear some of them are having seconds. And it’s supposed to be for the homeless!’

Rudy reappeared with the huge thermos and a stack of polystyrene cups in a plastic sleeve. ‘There you go, boss: hazelnut latte.’

‘Thanks.’ Insch took them both, cradling the sleeve against his chest. ‘McRae: walk with me.’

The spiky-haired woman placed a paper bowl heaped with glistening beans, chunks of amber sausage, and slivers of chicken, on the counter. A spork stuck out of the top, like an antenna. ‘Watch, it’s hot.’

Heat leached into his hands as he followed DI Insch away down the tunnel, back towards the nightclub. ‘Well? ’

‘I need you to do something about this counterfeit Witchfire merchandise. I don’t care if it is high quality: I’m not having some thieving git making fake stuff and flogging it. They’re doing replica props from the film, and we haven’t even finished shooting it yet!’

‘Seriously? ’

‘Why aren’t you doing anything about it? I told Mair to liaise with you, because you’re the only one in CID who isn’t going to sod it up. The rest of these idiots couldn’t investigate their own feet for toes.’

Chapter 35

35

Insch stopped at a knot of three men, all stick-thin and trembling, long sleeves pulled down to their fingertips, hiding the needletracks. He gave each one a polystyrene cup, then filled it with frothy pale coffee. ‘Here you go. . .’

Logan stared at him. ‘You do know I’m trying to catch someone who’s killed at least two people, don’t you? Never mind the grave robbing.’

They moved on to the next group, Insch doling out more hazelnut latte. ‘Do you have any idea how much money I’ve sunk into this thing? Every bloody penny. I don’t need people stealing from me as well! And counterfeiting is theft.’

Insch kept walking, on towards a couple of women in shapeless grey jogging bottoms and hooded tops, his voice dropped to a rumbling whisper. ‘Now try not to act like a lovesick teenager this time.’

‘Why would I—’

‘Ladies: I come bearing hazelnut lattes!’