‘Gave it a go, but nothing came back. Which could mean the victim’s not in the database.’ She put the notebook away. ‘So, maybe it’s not gang-related after all? If he was a dealer we’d have his prints in the system, right? ’

‘Not if he’d never been caught.’

Steel took one last look at Chalmers’s bum then sat up straight. ‘Aye, well someone caught him yesterday, didn’t they.’

Chapter 5

5

Isobel hauled off her purple nitrile gloves and dropped them in the pedal bin, then dumped her green plastic apron in after them. Then stood with her back arched, pregnant bulges sticking out, hands rubbing at the base of her spine. Eyes closed, teeth gritted. ‘Ungh. . . You know, when I had Sean I held off going on maternity leave until the last possible moment. Won’t be making that mistake again.’

Behind her, the Anatomical Pathology Technician was slotting the victim’s ribcage back into place, whistling the theme tune to Dr Who as she worked.

Logan dropped his facemask and gloves in the bin. Then unzipped his SOC suit. ‘Cause of death? ’

‘I need a sit down first.’ She waddled towards the door. ‘And maybe a nice cup of camomile tea.’

Logan followed her through into the pathologists’ office – a small room with two desks facing opposite walls. One was covered with stacks of paperwork, the other completely clear, except for a power-lead and an empty in-tray.

Isobel groaned her way into the seat and puffed out her cheeks. Stuck her legs out and rotated the feet at the ankles. First one way, and then the other. ‘Are you sure you don’t want an analgesic? ’

He shrugged one shoulder. ‘The only benefit of a punch on the nose – can’t smell the post mortem. And I had some paracetamol before we started.’

‘You always were such a martyr.’ She opened a desk drawer and pulled out a blister pack of pills. ‘Take two. No alcohol for six hours.’

Logan popped a couple of tablets out onto his palm, then knocked them back dry. Like a pro.

Isobel nodded. ‘Damage above the fire line was extensive, the dermis and epidermis are virtually gone. But it looks as if whoever killed him shaved him first. No hair on the head, groin, armpits, or chest, and they didn’t do a particularly smooth job of it either.’

She dumped the pills back in her desk. ‘In addition to the shaving and burning tyre, your victim was stabbed three times, left-hand side. Twice between the fourth and fifth rib, once between the fifth and sixth. The first two punctured the lung; the third went straight into the left ventricle, rupturing the heart.’ She levered her right shoe off with the toe of the left. Let it clunk to the threadbare carpet tiles. ‘Oh, that’s better. . .’