‘If you could stop thinking about Sean, we could get started.’

Rhona was trying to pull rank but it was water off a duck’s back. Her Scientific Officer gave her a look that said, ‘So you didn’t get it last night.’

‘By the way. There was a phone call for you, Rhona. A bloke. Sounded sexy. Wouldn’t give his name. Just said he’d try later.’

Death always involved relationships. Death because they loved you. Death because they didn’t. Death because no one loved them. Love and hate. Hate and love.

And what about this death? Why had the boy died? It looked as though he had come to the room for sex. There was no sign of a struggle, not until the noose had tightened round his neck and even then, only when the perpetrator had gone too far.

Dr Sissons had confirmed that death was by asphyxiation during anal sex. The ligature had probably been used to restrict oxygen to the brain to promote orgasm, he said.

‘The death wasn’t premeditated then?’ Rhona asked.

‘There’s some evidence to suggest the boy has been involved in this sort of activity before. Earlier bruises in the same area, though less pronounced. There was probably a pad placed between the ligature and the neck.’

‘But not this time?’

‘No. This time, the ligature was tightened to unconsciousness and beyond. Whatever the boy agreed to do, I can’t believe he wanted to die.’

‘And the mutilation?’

‘After death definitely, and probably by biting. The gash on the penis is elliptical. I took the liberty of calling in the Odontology Unit. Hope that’s okay?’

Dr Sissons liked to believe there was rivalry between the various forensic departments. Even if there was, Rhona wasn’t going to encourage him.

‘I located saliva on the nipples and the shoulder,’ she said.

‘Good. There was also semen on the anal swab. What about the curtain?’

‘We’re working on that. It looks as though it’s been used more than once. We’ll take our time and go over all of it. There might be fibres or old blood,’ Rhona said. ‘Oh, and I combed two head hairs from the pubic region.’

‘Not the boy’s?’

‘I’ve still to check, but one’s dark, so it’s unlikely.’ Rhona paused. ‘I take it you don’t know who the boy is yet?’

‘No. The post mortem suggests he was in his late teens, say between sixteen and twenty. Good health. No evidence of drug abuse. Non-smoker. Well nourished. Your forensic biologists are enjoying the dubious pleasure of examining his stomach contents, so we’ll know soon what he’d been eating before he died. With a bit of luck it will be curry and the police can start checking all the Glasgow curry houses to see if they recognise him. And Dr MacLeod?’ Dr Sissons’ voice was thoughtful.

‘Yes?’

‘You aren’t missing a member of your family, are you? The boy bore an uncanny resemblance to you.’

Rhona assured him that as far as she knew, her family was fully accounted for and rang off.