‘Carl, this is amazing,’ Kirsty said. ‘Where’s the bacon sandwich?’

‘Start of a new era,’ Hoskins said, nodding at his plate.

‘It’s certainly that. Are you on a diet?’ Gillard asked.

Hoskins nodded, lifted a small spoonful of fruit salad to his mouth. ‘I’ve been diagnosed with type two diabetes,’ he said. ‘Aiming to lose two stone in a month, almost ten per cent of my body weight. I’ve had dire warnings since I went to the quack with a sore on my ankle that wouldn’t heal. For the first few weeks I just stuck my head in the sand. But my kids have been on to me over the weekend.’

‘Better late than never, Carl. Well done for getting to grips with it,’ Kirsty said.

‘Yeah, well. It’s cutting down on the beer that’s going to hurt most,’ he said wistfully. ‘I’ve had problems with my eyesight too, which I thought was down to looking at screens too much. But it seems that it might be a diabetes-related issue with my retinas.’

‘There you go, Carl,’ Gillard said. ‘The hidden cost of a chicken nugget. But seriously, I need you to look after yourself for the sake of our CID team. Who else would look at all the CCTV if you go blind?’

‘Thanks a bunch, sir.’

‘Now, eat up, it’s nearly time for our incident room meeting.’ Gillard got up, said goodbye to Kirsty and clapped Hoskins on the back as he left.

Chapter Sixteen

The Tuesday afternoon incident room meeting was short and to the point. Detective Constables Rainy Macintosh and Carl Hoskins were joined on Zoom by Shireen Corey Williams, self-isolating after her return from Greece two days ago.

‘So now you’re saying we don’t even know who this wee dead fella is anymore?’ Rainy asked.

‘That’s right. But I think it’s fair to say that whoever reburied him also planted the comb because he wanted us to think he was Ozzy Blanchard.’

She looked up at him quizzically. ‘Aye, someone with a strong stomach.’

‘But what if the comb was just added at the moment of discovery?’ Hoskins said. ‘You wouldn’t need to have such a strong stomach for that.’

‘Och no, Carl, that disnae make sense. There would have had to be three of them in on it, with the comb to hand, and to delay reporting their find.’

‘Yes, that would make a weird conspiracy,’ Gillard said. ‘One supervisor from the water company in league with the woman on her first week in the excavator, and Aidan Tickett nearby.’

‘It wouldn’t be the people that actually did want to kill Ozzy, would it?’ Hoskins said. ‘But it might be to try to fool them.’

‘In which case the likeliest culprit for the forensic trick would be Ozzy Blanchard himself, trying to make his pursuers give up,’ Gillard said.