A face appeared over Steel’s shoulder. DS Chalmers, glasses perched on the end of her nose. ‘Guv? Sorry to interrupt, but we’ve got activity on Anthony Chung’s bank account. Debit card was used to withdraw two hundred and sixty pounds this morning from the Clydesdale Bank cash machines outside Marks and Spencer on Union Street.’

Steel turned around. ‘Believe it or no’, Sergeant, we do actually know where Markies is.’ She squidged her boobs together again. ‘Do these look bigger to you? ’

A blush rushed up Chalmers’s cheeks. She stared at Logan. ‘Guv? ’

‘Pull the security camera footage from the machine. Then go through the CCTV tapes – find out where he came from and where he went.’

She scribbled it all down in her notebook. ‘They’re still in Aberdeen: only a matter of time before we find them.’

Steel let go, and her breasts sagged and separated again. ‘Unless someone’s chibbed him and nicked his cards.’ She pointed at Logan. ‘You, Bone Boy, when did you find the last lot? ’

‘This morning, in a box on the top step.’

‘Then it’s no’ Reuben, is it? He’s been banged up in here since six last night.’

‘So he got someone else to deliver it for him. It’s a threat. He wants. . .’ A frown. What? What on earth would Reuben get out of it? ‘OK, I haven’t got a clue what he wants, but you don’t send someone finger bones for fun.’

‘See if you’re right, and this is some OAP drug dealer from Manchester, or Birmingham, or Christ knows where, I’m going to sodding kill you. How are we supposed to solve that? ’

Logan pocketed his phone and his keys. ‘Chalmers – when you’re done with the CCTV, go dig up a list of Agnes Garfield and Anthony Chung’s friends so we can start interviewing them.’

‘Yes, Guv.’

‘And get me someone in uniform with their head screwed on the right way round: search trained. I’m going out.’

Even with her police-issue boots on, PC Sim barely made it past Logan’s shoulder. Her dark-brown hair was swept back and imprisoned in a tight bun, just under the rim of her bowler. That and the glasses made it look as if she was trying to get her head to go faster. She wrinkled her nose. ‘You live here? ’

Logan hefted a roll of blue-and-white ‘POLICE’ tape out of the pool car’s boot. ‘What’s wrong with here? ’

She turned around on the spot, then pointed at the sewage treatment plant on the opposite side of the river. Then the dirty big supermarket. Then the graveyard. Then up past that to the dual carriageway where the eighteen-wheelers thundered. ‘Where do you want me to start? ’

‘Hmph.’ Logan dumped the tape in her arms. ‘String this up between the trees. I want a twelve-foot cordon around the caravan.’