He dumped the mug on the desk, then swatted at her feet with the folder. ‘Out.’

She didn’t move. ‘Did I no’ tell you about those bloody teenagers? ’

‘For God’s sake, they’re shacked up somewhere, banging each other’s hormone-addled brains out. It’s not—’

‘I don’t give a badger’s hairy arsehole if they’re on Jeremy Kyle with “My Girlfriend Won’t Swallow”: I told you to get your finger out and visit the bloody parents and at least look as if you’re doing something.’

‘They—’

‘No.’ She slammed a hand down on the desk. ‘This isn’t a debate, it’s an order. Finger – out – now. You made the ACC look a right prawn.’

‘You know what? Sod it.’ He pulled out his warrant card, in its little leather holder, and tossed it into her lap. ‘I’m with Doc Forsyth: screw this for a game of soldiers. I never asked you to make me up to DI, did I? No, I was quite happy where I was, but you had to have someone to run around after your backside, doing all your bloody paperwork.’

‘There we go.’ She checked her watch. ‘Lasted a whole two weeks as acting DI before threatening to flounce off in a strop. That’s a record for you. Was starting to worry you’d grown up a bit.’

‘I’m serious.’

‘Oh, don’t be such a big girl’s blouse.’

‘I’ve had enough.’

‘Moan, moan, whinge, bitch, moan. Now I know where Rennie gets it from.’ She flipped open the little leather case and peered at the warrant card within, holding it out at arm’s length. ‘Jesus, there’s a face only a proctologist could love.’

He grabbed his coat from the hook by the door. ‘Enjoy your paperwork.’

‘Park your arse.’ She pointed at the visitor’s chair on the other side of the desk. ‘Soon as Disaster McPherson’s finished screwing things up in Holyrood, you can go back to being a lowly defective sergeant. God, you’re such a drama queen.’

‘I am not a drama—’

‘You don’t see me whingeing on about running CID till Finnie returns from his wee jolly to Malaga, do you? Even though the sodding ACC’s down here every five minutes bitching about the budget and the rotas and the overtime bill? No: because I’m a team player, one of the lads, knuckling under and getting the job done like a pro.’ She had a dig at the underside of her left breast, scratching and tugging at the bra-line. ‘Course, the extra cash helps.’

Logan stared at her. ‘You got a pay rise? ’