Dying light

'You hear he's gone missing?'

She froze, the dirty mug to her lips. 'Oh aye?'

'Since Wednesday, day after you assaulted him.' Logan watched her eyes and there was definitely something there.

He just didn't know what it was yet. 'Bit of a coincidence, isn't it?'

She shrugged. 'Nothin' to do with me. Probably run off with one of his tarts anyway. Left that soppy cow of a wife.

Just fuckin' abandoned her…' Clair fished the teabag out of the mug with a fork and hurled it into the dirty sink. 'It's what you fuckin' men do, isn't it?'

Back outside in the sunshine Re

No' surprised her husband left her. Woman's a bloody slob … What?' He looked at Logan who was staring at the front of the house.

'Do me a favour, OK? I want you to get onto Control and have them do a full check: everything they have on Mrs Clair Pirie.'

'Think she's got something to do with Cruickshank going missing?'

'Nope. My money's still on Ibiza, Hayley the pole-dancer and her tiny leather bikini. But she is up to something.'

They went next door to Cruickshanks' Repose. Ailsa appeared, dressed in a blue-and-white-striped apron and rubber gloves, blonde hair tied back. Stu

Logan tried for a reassuring smile. 'It's OK, Mrs Cruickshank, nothing's happened: we're just here to have a little chat, OK?

Can we come in?'

'Oh, of course. I'm sorry… Would you like some tea? It's no problem.'

She sat them down in a pristine lounge and went to put the kettle on. As soon as he was out of sight, Re

'Would you grow up! The woman's husband's missing.'

'I know, but Jesus, how the hell do you leave that? She's bloody gorgeous! I would! Would you?'

'Shut up – she'll hear you.'

Re

'Constable – I'm warning you!'

Re

Ailsa Cruickshank returned bearing a tray topped with mugs of tea and chocolate biscuits. As Re

'I was wondering if you've heard from your husband at all?'

She sighed, deflating slightly. 'No. No I haven't.'

'I see…' Go on: tell her. 'Er… when you reported your husband missing, did they ask you about other things not being there: his toothbrush, change of clothes, passport. That kind of thing?'

'You don't think he's… Gavin wouldn't just leave me without saying anything! He wouldn't.'

Logan bit his lip and nodded. 'OK. Well, just in case, do you think we could take a look?'

Ailsa took them upstairs to the master bedroom, unaware of DC Re

His toothbrush was still in the bathroom. His razor, moisturizer, facial scrub, and hair gel still in the medicine cabinet.

But that didn't prove anything. Given the kind of life Gavin Cruickshank led, he probably had identical toiletries in the bathroom of every woman he was shagging. And a lot of people in the oil-service industry had second passports; it helped when you had to get visas organized for contracts in Azerbaijan, or Angola, or Nigeria… So all in all this proved nothing, just gave Logan a chance to put off the inevitable and Re

They sat in the car, Logan swearing softly, Re

Logan took one last look over his shoulder, not surprised to see a suspicious pair of piggy eyes staring at him from the house next door. She was definitely up to something.

The morgue at Grampian Police Headquarters had a strange smell of cheese and onion when Logan arrived seven minutes early for Jamie McKi

Though where the hell Re

Isobel slouched through into the cutting room at two minutes to four, not bothering to cover a jaw-cracking yawn. She scrubbed up in the sink without saying hello.

Logan sighed. Might as well make the gesture: 'Rough night last night?'

'Hmmm?' She looked up from drying her hands, face set in the same scowl she was wearing this morning. 'I don't want to talk about it.'

'OK…' This was obviously going to be one of those 'fun' post mortems.

'Look if you must know, Colin didn't come home last night.' She pulled a green plastic apron from the roll by the sink and put it on over her surgical get-up. It was long enough to cover the toes of her Wellington boots.

'Oh?' Sounded as if Miller was in for a world of hurt when he got back from work today. 'What was his excuse?'

The scowl grew darker. 'I haven't spoken to him yet.' She threw a tray of surgical instruments down on the trolley next to Jamie's corpse. 'It's four o'clock: where the hell is everyone?'

Isobel's assistant Brian was the first one to turn up, full of apologies, closely followed by DC Re

With an exasperated sigh Isobel started in on the preliminary examination. She narrated her way around the corpse, finding evidence of at least a dozen separate violent incidents.

The most recent set of contusions weren't even old enough to bruise properly. It looked as if someone had held Jamie down so someone else could punch him repeatedly in the stomach. There were even little marks around his mouth, probably caused by a hand being clamped over it to stop him from screaming. No wonder the poor sod had killed himself.