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had he convinced her to go there? It was both a sensible and a stupid question. If she was a junkie, she would go anywhere and do anything for a fix. The fashion was to swallow Valium before going out on the street. Valium took the edge off, meant you didn’t care what the hell was done to you, and didn’t remember much afterwards. It wasn’t that long ago a prostitute had been found wandering along a motorway, with her arm severed at the elbow. She couldn’t remember whether her assailant had done it, or if it had happened after she had got out of the car.
    Bill was startled from his reverie by the arrival of the other participants. DS McNab acknowledged him with a nod, Rhona with an inquisitive smile. He hadn’t been able to discuss Margaret’s illness with anyone except Rhona, although he had informed his superior officer. Detective Superintendent Sutherland had requested he be kept in the illness loop, as he put it, which Bill had so far studiously avoided.
    The Super was next in, accompanied by Dr Sissons and a stranger. The unknown man was tall and broad-shouldered with slim hips, his thick brown hair pulledback in a ponytail. What intrigued Bill most were the clothes. Dressed in a brown suede jacket, open-necked checked shirt and well worn jeans, he looked uncomfortable, like a man in the outfit of an age to which he didn’t belong. Bill realised his silent analysis was being matched by the stranger’s equally appraising gaze. He held out his hand to Bill.
    ‘Magnus Pirie, Department of Psychology, Strathclyde University.’
    Pirie’s voice exhibited the lyrical quality of the Orkney Isles. Bill recognised both the accent and the Nordic name, having spent three consecutive family holidays in a rented cottage by the harbour in Stromness. He’d loved the place, even thought of retiring there.
    ‘Professor Pirie,’ Sutherland said. ‘This is Detective Inspector Bill Wilson, who is in charge of the case.’
    The man’s grip was firm, his hand warm. Bill had a strong sense from that grasp, and from his clear gaze, that this was a man to be trusted. Pirie released him and turned to Rhona. Bill could tell she was curious and equally impressed.
    ‘I read your paper on the DNA characteristics of bacteria and virus samples,’ said Magnus.
    Rhona looked surprised. ‘I didn’t think psychologists were into hard science.’
    ‘My first degree was physics, before I saw the light.’
    A proponent of psychology in action was impressive to behold. Bill pondered whether Pirie had checked them all out prior to the meeting. If not, the man could read people like a book.
    Superintendent Sutherland waved them to their places. Pirie waited until they were all seated before he took his own.
    ‘Professor Pirie has been making a study of our unsolved cases of murdered prostitutes, eight over the last ten years,’ Sutherland reminded them.
    ‘There’s no evidence to suggest they were committed by the same man,’ Bill said defensively.
    ‘I am aware of that. However, in view of the nature of the current case, I have asked the professor to sit in on these proceedings.’ The Superintendent smiled reassuringly at Bill, then signalled to McNab to begin.
    While McNab talked them through the crime scene recording, Bill watched Professor Pirie from the corner of his eye. He estimated him to be in his late thirties or early forties, which seemed young to have achieved a professorship. Orkney, Bill knew, had produced more professors per head of population than anywhere else in the UK, so maybe the man’s status wasn’t so strange after all. Pirie’s manner, as he watched and listened to the gory details, was of studied and interested calm. He flinched neither at the images nor the descriptions. Then it was Sissons’ turn to report.
    ‘The victim was in her mid to late teens, five feet two inches in height and of slim build. She’d not eaten for some time. Various sites on the body, including the inner thigh and arms,