Flesh House

'Sorry if our murder enquiry's boring you, Alec.' The cameraman shrugged. 'Not your fault. But we need--' 'Oh for God's sake!' Steel appeared at the bedroom door, staring down at the oatmeal-coloured carpet and the new set of sticky red footprints. 'Alec!' The trail ended at the cameraman's blue booties. 'Oops ... It was kinda all over the kitchen ...' 'And now it's all over the bloody house!' 'Sorry.' 'Do you have any idea--' Logan stopped her before she could get going. 'Found a possible lead: Heather Inglis and Hazel Stephen both went to Weight Watchers.' 'Valerie Leith?' 'Can't tell yet, waiting for Witness Protection to get back to us.' 'Aye, and we'll all be drawing our old-age-pensions by then. If she's in Weight Watchers there'll be evidence up at the crime scene. Low-fat Sellotape, membership forms, before-and-after trousers, that kind of thing.' Steel undid the zip on her SOC outfit. 'Well, come on then - romper suits off, we've got a house to ransack.'

'It's ... it's important not to panic ...' The new person's voice came through from the other side of the bars, where Duncan died. Where the Dark was the strongest. 'You hear me? We have to stay calm ...' At least he'd stopped screaming. Heather picked another escalope from the tinfoil parcel, biting through the herb crust. Very tasty. 'He's a bit of a whinge, isn't he?' 'Leave him alone, he's just scared.' She could hear Mr New scrabbling forwards in the darkness, grabbing hold of the bars. 'Who are you talking to? Why won't you tell me who you're talking to? What's happening? What's--' Heather cut off the rising tide of panic before he drowned them both. 'I'm talking to my husband.' 'Is he ... hello? Why don't--' 'He won't talk to you. Because he's dead.' 'Oh Jesus ... I'm locked up with a lunatic.' Heather nodded, even though the new man couldn't see her. 'I've gone mad.' There was a long pause ... and then Mr New said,'What's your name?'