‘The cleaners mop the floors, empty the bins, wipe down the surfaces, stuff like that. They don’t sod about with all the hydraulic bits and bobs under the bed unless they’re doing a deep clean, or, you know, something’s happened.’ A shrug. ‘Could’ve been there for weeks.’

Three witch’s finger bones, dangling away beneath Samantha’s bed. Working their dark magic. Keeping him from finding Agnes Garfield.

Right.

Logan took a deep breath. Stared at the floor. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—’

‘Yes, well. . .’ The nurse nodded. ‘I suppose, if I’m honest. If it was my girlfriend – if she was stuck in here, in a coma for a couple of years – I’d probably be squirrelly about it too.’

Chapter 44

44

‘I see. . .’ Superintendent Napier steepled his fingers and peered over them at Logan. His hair glowed like the top of a Duracell battery, his long thin nose twitching as he smiled. ‘And you feel this was sufficient reason to ignore our appointment? ’

The Professional Standards office was quiet, just the buzz-click of an oscillating fan stirring the motes of dust drifting through a shaft of sunlight. The other two desks were clean and tidy, their owners disappearing as soon as Logan turned up. Leaving him alone with the Ginger Whinger.

‘I was acting on information received at short notice. What did you want me to do, ignore evidence of a serious crime? ’

‘What I want, Acting Detective Inspector McRae, is for you to turn up when summoned at the appointed time. Not an hour and thirty-four minutes late.’ He patted the ends of each pair of fingers in turn, forward then backwards, slow and methodical. ‘And you’re certain we’ll find cannabis farms at these locations? ’

A little sacrificial offering to confuse the issue.

‘As I can be.’

Unless, of course, Wee Hamish Mowat, or his green-haired minion were lying to him.

‘I see. . .’ There was a pause, while Napier stared at Logan like a pathologist examining a dead body. ‘And I understand you took the time to pop past Aberdeen Royal Infirmary.’

‘I discovered one Daniel Fisher on my way to my appointment with you, someone had just shattered both his ankles. I escorted him to hospital, where he informed me Anthony Chung had been responsible for stealing cannabis from the McLeod brothers and set himself up as an independent wholesaler. Then I went to check on Dil. . . On Timothy Mair’s condition. His doctor says he’s got a punctured lung, but he should make a full recovery.’ Logan nodded at the sheet of paper, sitting in the middle of Napier’s desk. ‘It’s all in my report.’

‘Ah yes, our unfortunate Trading Standards Officer. Funny you should mention that. . .’

Logan paused in the corridor outside his office, fingertips resting on the handle. There were voices inside, muffled by the closed door, but still recognizable.

Rennie: ‘No, really, I’ve got—’