Logan pushed the door shut with his heel. ‘Do I want to know? ’

‘Probably not.’ Bob sank into his chair. ‘Nice severed head, by the way: suits you.’

The other desks were covered in piles of forms and file boxes, only one was clean and tidy: DS Chalmers’s. ‘Where’s the new girl? ’

‘Buggered if I know. . .’ He frowned. ‘Rennie’s right, you’re playing favourites, aren’t you? ’

Logan stared at him. If Biohazard wanted favourites, he could bloody well have them. ‘You know what: maybe I am putting too much on DS Chalmers’s shoulders. So. . .’ He plonked the head down on Biohazard’s desk. ‘“Who is this woman?” TV, papers, posters. You know the drill.’

‘Noooo.’ Bob covered his face with his hands. ‘Can’t someone else—’

‘You’re the one feeling neglected.’ He pointed at the head. ‘Steel wants that done ASAP. If it’s not on the lunchtime news, you know what’ll happen to you.’

Bob groaned. Stood. Then picked up the head. ‘Come on, Sexy.’ He paused at the door. ‘One thing. Chalmers might be the new girl, but there’s something you’ve got to remember. . .’ He squeezed one eye shut, leaned to the left, then hurried out, thumping the door shut.

The smell he’d left behind wasn’t far off being weaponized.

Chapter 37

37

Kelly the PCSO pulled her chin in, eyebrows furrowed. ‘What happened to you? ’

‘Biohazard.’

The cell block was quiet, the singing and swearing of last night reduced to a sort of anxious murmur as people got ready for their turn in front of the Sheriff to find out if they’d be released on bail, or banged up in Craiginches.

‘Oh Lord, I got trapped in the lift with him once. Always take the stairs, and never light a match.’ She led the way to cell number eight and rapped on the door. ‘Best to let them know we’re out here, in case he’s pleasuring himself. Happens more often than you’d think.’ She slid open the hatch. ‘He’s had his breakfast, so don’t let the puppy-dog eyes con you into giving him any treats.’

Logan stepped up and peered into the cell. Dr Marks had graduated from the floor to the mattress, curled up in the foetal position, arms wrapped around his head. ‘Go away. . .’

‘That was one night, Dr Marks. What do you think a week in prison’s going to be like? ’

‘They wouldn’t even switch off the light.’

‘That’s in case you decide to do yourself harm in the dark. Don’t want to find your cold dead body in the morning, do we? Probably a good idea to keep you on suicide watch up in Craiginches too. Sensitive lad like you— Sod.’ His phone was ringing. ‘Have a think and I’ll be back in a minute.’ He pulled it out. ‘McRae? ’

‘LoganDaveGoulding, how you doing? ’