Insch leaned over the desk, looming over the butcher. 'Do you have any idea what they do to people like you in prison?' McFarlane flinched as if he'd been slapped. 'I ... But I've not done anything!' 'Then why have you got a slab of human flesh HANGING IN YOUR FRIDGE?' 'I didn't know! I didn't! It wasn't me! I never did anything, I've not even had a parking ticket, I'm law-abiding citizen, I do barbeques for charity, I don't even overcharge people! I've not--' 'You sold human remains to Thompson's Cash And Carry. They sold it on to catering companies.' 'Oh God ...' McFarlane had gone a deathly shade of white. 'But--' 'PEOPLE HAVE BEEN EATING IT!' 'David,' Faulds laid a hand on Insch's arm. 'It might help if you let the poor man complete a sentence.' The Chief Constable perched himself on the edge of the desk, SOC oversuit rustling as he moved. 'You see, Mr McFarlane, you own a butcher's shop that sells chunks of dead bodies. Can you see why we might have a bit of a problem with that?' 'I didn't know!' 'Uh-huh ... Mr McFarlane, you're a professional butcher, yes?' The man nodded, setting his jowls wobbling, and Faulds gave him an encouraging smile. 'And you expect us to believe you can't tell the difference between pork and people?' 'I ... I ... I don't do a lot of the actual butchery anymore ...' He held up his trembling hands. 'Can't hold a knife still.' 'I see.' Insch placed a massive paw on the desk. 'You don't remember me, do you, Mr McFarlane?' 'What?' He frowned. 'No. What are you--' 'Twenty years ago. Three people hacked up and fed--''Oh, no!' McFarlane clamped one of his quivering hands over his mouth. 'Not ... I'm not! I never did anything! I ...' His frantic eyes locked onto Faulds. 'I never! It's not me! Tell him it's not me!' 'Where's Ken Wiseman?' 'Oh God, this isn't happening, not again ...' 'WHERE - IS - HE?' And suddenly all the colour rushed back into McFarlane's face. 'I don't know! And even if I did, I wouldn't tell you.' The butcher clambered to his feet. 'I remember you now, you and that bastard ... what was it...? Brooks! Ken never did anything, you fitted him up!' 'Where is he?'
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