‘Probably drunk themselves to death weeks ago. They’ll be lying dead in a ditch somewhere, covered in smoked streaky and Cheddar, getting all mouldy and fusty. . .’ A shudder. ‘Bad enough when they do it in winter, but in this weather? ’ Rennie’s bottom lip poked out. ‘Can’t we get the GED to look for them? ’

Logan smiled. ‘Trust me: soon as our beloved colleagues in the General Enquiries Division find out that Steel’s lumped you with finding these guys, they’ll disappear faster than you can say, “Someone else’s problem.”’ Logan fished his teabag out and dumped it in the wastepaper basket. ‘Besides, there’s only three of them. Don’t be such a wimp.’

Rennie ripped open the Jaffa Cakes, then tipped out a half-dozen brown flying-saucers onto the desk. ‘It’s not three any more, it’s two. Got Hairy Mary in the mortuary – found her under the Wellington Bridge with a bottle of turps in one hand and her knickers round her ankles.’

‘Sexual assault? ’

A shake of the head. ‘Call of nature, from the state of her.’ He bit a Jaffa Cake in half, talking with his mouth full. ‘Poor cow. Imagine going out like that? Everyone seeing you? ’ He chewed, then swallowed. ‘You want to take a look at her? ’

Dirty bugger. Logan pulled in his chin. ‘Do you really think that’s appropriate, because I—’

‘No! Not look at her with her knickers down. . . I mean take a look and make sure I’m not screwing anything up? ’

‘Oh.’ That was OK then. ‘Don’t be such a big Jessie.’

‘Come on, Guv. . .’ He popped the final Jaffa Cake in his mouth and fluttered his eyelashes. ‘Please? ’

Sigh. ‘This is the last time, understand? ’

A grin. ‘Thanks, Guv!’

Rennie was right – the corridor was quiet, not so much as an angry murmur coming from the cutting room. Logan pushed through the double doors . . . and stopped.

Dr Dempsey was sitting flat on his wide tweed bum in the middle of the room, both hands clasped over his nose, while Dr April Graham skipped back and forward in front of him, knees bent, feet barely moving. Fists up in classic Muhammad Ali pose.

She threw a couple of sharp right jabs into the air, making little puffing noises. ‘Told him to stop pushing me.’

Chapter 9

9

Logan shifted the hot mug of coffee from one hand to the other, wedging the manila folder under his arm as he struggled with the doorknob. Down the corridor, the main CID office was noisy: the dayshift coasting towards quitting time, the backshift grumbling about all the jobs they’d been lumbered with on a Sunday evening.

Click, and the handle finally turned. He pushed through into his own private sanctuary— Crap.

Detective Chief Inspector Steel was sitting in his chair, feet up on his desk, electronic cigarette clamped between her teeth puffing artificial smoke into the room. ‘Where the hell have you been? ’