‘Or I could be a PI, like in the films? Simon Rennie: Private Investigator. . .’

‘Simon Rennie: idiot, more like.’ The phone on Logan’s desk trilled. He jabbed the speakerphone button. ‘What? ’

‘Don’t you “what” me, McRae.’ Big Gary on reception. ‘Just ’cos you’re a DI now, doesn’t mean I won’t take you over my knee and spank your arse for you.’

Logan scowled at a grinning Rennie. ‘Say something, I dare you.’

‘You’ve got a visitor: one Timothy Mair Esquire from Trading Standards.’

‘What the hell does Dildo want? ’

‘I don’t know, and I don’t care.’ A clunk and the line went dead.

Rennie yawned, arms stretched way above his head. ‘Don’t take it personally: Big Gary’s been biting everyone’s head off since he found out someone got his little girl up the stick.’ He sagged back into place. ‘And before you ask: no, it wasn’t me.’

Tim ‘Dildo’ Mair pulled the scabrous council Transit van out onto Broad Street, the gearbox sounding like someone trying to run a set of maracas through the spin cycle. His eyes were narrowed behind a pair of John Lennon glasses, his black goatee beard bristling around a thin-lipped mouth.

Logan hauled on his seatbelt. ‘Seriously? You’re going to sulk at me the whole way? ’

Dildo didn’t look at him, kept his eyes on the road. ‘Constable Sim, would you please tell DI McRae that I’m not sulking, I’m trying not to give him another black eye to match the one he’s already got.’

Sitting on the second row of seats, PC Sim pulled a face, then wiped her hand on the van’s wall. ‘It’s all sticky back here. . .’

‘Look, I’m sorry I missed our appointment yesterday, but I’m having a pretty shitty day, so you can—’

‘Appointments. As in plural.’

The Transit rocked like someone was kicking it as it accelerated past Marischal College.

‘Didn’t think you were this delicate.’

‘Constable Sim, you can tell DI McRae I’m only doing this because his friend Insch promised to give my niece a tour of the set and a part as an extra if I caught who was counterfeiting the Witchfire stuff.’

She sniffed at her hand, then wiped it on the back of Logan’s seat. ‘What do you guys do in here to get it this sticky? ’

‘I’m in the middle of a murder enquiry, OK? I’m sorry that’s so bloody inconvenient for everyone, but I’ve got a killer to—’

‘Oh, bite me.’

They rumbled on in silence all the way up past the ugly concrete lump of Aberdeen College, then down the hill towards the massive Mounthooly roundabout.

Little muscles twitched along Dildo’s jaw, making the skin ripple.

Fine. Someone had to be the grown-up. ‘I’m sorry I blew you off yesterday. Can we just—’