In the Cold Dark Ground. Stuart MacBride

in behind him. ‘Cheeky sod.’ She peered at the sign next to the bell. Then mashed her thumb down on the button. Holding it there as the sound of ringing droned out somewhere inside the building. ‘SHOP! ANYONE IN? COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS UP! HELLO? SHOP!’

      Logan slapped her hand away and the ringing stopped. ‘OK, I think they heard you.’

      She raised an eyebrow and stared at him. ‘Where’d you get that suit, Tramps-R-Us?’

      ‘We kick off with the third partner – the financial director. Assuming he’s not disappeared as well.’

      ‘Looks more like a sleeping bag than a suit.’

      ‘Then we split the staff in three, take one third each.’

      ‘Trousers are hanging off you.’

      ‘Anyone seems a bit sketchy, we double up on them.’

      ‘And that’s possibly the ugliest tie I’ve ever seen.’

      He glanced down at it: blue with tiny red dots. ‘Jasmine gave me this for Christmas.’

      ‘She did?’ A frown. ‘For a seven-year-old, she’s got horrible fashion sense.’

      ‘Maybe Martin Milne has an accomplice?’

      ‘She gets that from your side of the family.’ Steel banged her open palm down on the desk. Bang. Bang. Bang. ‘SHOP! HELLO? GET A SHIFT ON!’

      ‘We should get Rennie to run a quick PNC check on all the employees before we start.’

      ‘They never warn you about that when you get your wife up the stick with a turkey baster, do they? Warning: donor sperm may cause your child to buy ugly ties.’

      Logan stared at her. ‘Are you finished?’

      A grin. ‘Any other skeletons lurking in your family cupboard I should know about? Any history of mental abnormality?’ Steel went back to hoiking at her underwear. ‘Mind you, I’ve met your mum, she’s about as normal as morris dancing. What about your dad, was he a nutter too? Suppose he must’ve been to marry your mum.’

      ‘Can we get back to the case, please?’

      The hatch rattled open, revealing an orange-skinned bottle-blonde in a polo shirt and fleece – both of which had the Geirrød logo on them. She smiled and fluttered her eyelashes, playing the coy young thing. Which, given the fact that she had to be pushing fifty, was a bit of a stretch.