Sim wrapped one arm around the branch, and pointed with the other one at the roof of Logan’s caravan. ‘You better see this.’

He frowned up at her. ‘If you’re—’

‘Seriously, Guv: you need to see this.’

Fine. Whatever.

Logan fetched the wheely-bin from the side of the caravan and dragged it over to the front door, climbed onto the top step, then clambered up onto the bin until he was kneeling there. The black plastic wobbled beneath him. Fall off a wheely-bin and kill himself, how great would that be? Bloody stupid idea. . .

He grabbed the lip that ran around the caravan roof and pulled himself up to his feet. Then stared down at what was spread out across the gritty roofing felt, mouth hanging open.

Jeepers was right.

Chapter 14

14

‘What the hell is wrong with you? ’ DCI Steel threw her hands into the air. ‘How could you no’ know? ’

The whole caravan park was cordoned off. Old Mrs Foster and her cockatoo stared out of the kitchen window of number four, mouth a wobbly scarlet slash as a line of SEB techs in white oversuits shuffled slowly past searching the ground for any more bits.

‘Well. . .’ Logan waved a hand at his home. Two techs were wriggling their way underneath it with tweezers and evidence bags. ‘It’s a residential caravan, it’s got a flat roof, you can’t see it from the ground.’

‘You’re supposed to be a detective, for God’s sake!’

‘It wasn’t—’

‘How could you live under that and no’ know? ’

Someone tugged on Logan’s sleeve. ‘Guv? ’ PC Sim looked up at him. ‘They say they need to know when your roof was fixed last.’

He stared at her. ‘If you’re suggesting it’s the last guy who fixed it, I think I might have noticed him dying up there and rotting away!’

Steel snorted. ‘Going on recent evidence, I sodding doubt it.’

‘No, Guv, they need to get up there to examine the remains and . . . you know . . . don’t want to go through the ceiling.’

‘There’s nothing wrong with my roof.’

‘Aye, except for the poor dead sod on it.’

He closed his eyes. Counted to ten. Only made it as far as six. ‘Don’t you have something more productive to do? ’

Steel shook her head. ‘Surprisingly enough, the skeleton lying on top of your sodding caravan roof is pretty high on my to-do list. Why can it never be straightforward with you? Why’s it always—’

‘I didn’t bloody put it there, OK? ’ He jabbed a finger at the roof. ‘That wasn’t me.’

‘Guv? ’ PC Sim again. ‘Council’s turned up.’

A scuffed flatbed truck was beeping its way backwards off of Mugiemoss Road into the caravan park. One side of the thing was all dented, rusting scratches clawed their way through the city council logo. A small yellow cherry-picker was tied to the back.