He was looking up towards the ceiling and admiring the start of his paintwork when he became aware his name was being called.

"Hamish!"

Hamish started and looked at Barry Owen. "Come forward, brother," commanded Barry.

Feeling every bit the idiot Mrs. Owen believed him to be, Hamish went forward. He stood with his shoulders hunched and a vacant smile on his face. Then he saw that Mrs. Owen was not in the congregation and decided it would not be politic to act the empty-headed fool too much, as he had not pulled that act on Barry.

"Now, brother," said Barry, "tell us your troubles."

"I suffer from depression," mumbled Hamish, seeing a mocking grin on Sanders's face.

"Louder. The Lord must hear you!"

"I suffer from depression," shouted Hamish, thoroughly embarrassed. "Och, I cannae talk about it in front of all these people."

"You will, when the spirit of the Lord enters you." Barry reached up and laid his hands on Hamish's head. Hamish felt a shock like an electric current running through his body.

The superstitious Highland part of his mind wondered if Barry really did have healing powers. The police side wondered what electrical device Barry had hidden in the palm of his hand.

"Go and join your brothers and sisters and listen to their help," said Barry.

Hamish thankfully hurried back to his place next to Sanders.

One by one, various members began to talk about how depressed they had been until they had joined the church.

Then to Hamish's amazement, Sanders leapt to his feet. "I had been a sufferer from chronic depression for years," he said, "until the light entered my soul."

"Hallelujah," shouted a thin woman, clutching a shopping bag on her lap.

"And do you know why?" he shouted.

"Tell us!" urged the congregation.

"My sexual orientation was wrong, wrong, wrong!'

"Ah.'" A sigh of satisfaction came from the congregation. Back to good old sex at last.

"I was locked in an unhappy marriage. I could not bring myself to touch her. She repulsed me. I prayed to the Lord. My brain cleared. I was gay. I would not admit that before, even to myself. My black cloud lifted and I saw the light." Sanders smiled fondly down at Hamish, who glared at him.

"My brother here will come with me and I will explain in private how he might be helped." He stretched down his hand. "Come, brother Hamish."

"Yes, go," cried the congregation in a state of ecstasy.

Blushing as red as his hair, Hamish allowed Sanders to lead him out of the church.

"Well, hullo, sailor," said Hamish bitterly.

"How else was I to get a private word with you?" said Sanders.

"So you can let go of my hand."

"Such a nice hand," said Sanders, patting it. "You should see your face."

"How did you know they would just let me walk out with you?" asked Hamish.

"Easy, I'd dropped in there before, undercover. Sex, always sex. They wank off just talking about it. So I knew if I got them back on their usual track, they wouldn't mind."

"So what's this all about?" asked Hamish. "How did you get on with Felicity?"

Sanders told him as they walked down towards the town.

Hamish felt depressed. "So all that does is add evidence to the fact that Tommy did kill himself by accident."

"Looks that way, and I think you're wasting time in that damn church."

"Maybe something there," said Hamish. "Maybe they show blue films?"

"So what? Have you seen television lately? Even the BBC shows everyone screwing everything. Turn to the nature programmes for a bit of relief, and they've got animals shagging."

"Are you gay?" asked Hamish abruptly. "Not that it matters. I'm just curious to learn if the hidebound dinosaurs of Strathbane police have moved into the twentieth century."

"No, but it was the best thing I could think of to get you out of there."

"So what now?" asked Hamish. "I suppose that's that. I might have a go at just one more lead."

"What's that?"

Hamish told him about the two supposed students that Tommy had lodged with.

"I doubt if you'll find them still there," said Sanders. "Worth a try all the same."

Hamish looked at him sharply. "You mean you still think there was something funny about Tommy's death?"

"Yes. It's a gut feeling."

"So are you going to come with me to see these two former friends of Tommy's?"

"No, I go on a lot of drug raids. They might be a couple I busted."

"Then what about the people in the church, for heavens sake?"

"I checked them out as they went in. Nothing sinister there."

"Oh, my," moaned Hamish. "I'm working at that church for nothing."

"You mean they aren't paying you?"

"Aye, they're paying me, and I better look noble if I stay to the end of the week and put the money in the collection box because if headquarters gets a wind of me taking money, I'll be out on my ear."

"I'll leave you here," said Sanders, stopping by his car. "I parked well away from the church."

"It's an ordinary car, not a police car," said Hamish. "Why did you do that?"

"I wanted to go on foot for a bit. Gave me a better chance to suss out the people going into the church. Are you going to see these blokes in your capacity as police officer?"

"No."

"Well, you look a damn sight too clean. Take my advice and muck yourself up a bit. And let me know if you even get a whisper." He took out his notebook. "I'll write down my home address and number. You may get into trouble." He tore off the piece of paper and handed it to Hamish.

Hamish waved to him and walked off into the night.

What a smelly place Strathbane was, he reflected as he headed down to the old docks where he knew Glenfields housing estate to be. Smells of gas and sour earth and cheap cooking.

He wished he hadn't shaved that morning. He wished he hadn't pressed his shirt. He was too old to pose as a student.

He walked through the estate until he found Kinnock Tower. The lift wasn't working. Wearily he began to climb the stairs. The walls of the staircase were covered in graffiti and the stairs themselves in garbage. The whole estate had been due for demolition for some time but kept being put off, because temporary accommodation would have to be found for the inhabitants and then new houses built and there was no money for that, perhaps because the councillors of Strathbane had a propensity to travel to exotic places en masse on "fact-finding" missions, and taking their wives with them, and all at the taxpayers' expense.

The flat he was looking for was near the top of the building. He trudged along until he came to 244. A blast of stereo sound came through the thin door. He rang the bell, and then, reflecting that the bell probably didn't work, knocked at the glass panel of the door, which had been broken at one time and stuck together again with sticky tape. Still no reply. He bent down and shouted through the letter box, "Anybody home?"

The door was suddenly jerked open.

A small, fat, piggy man stood there. He was bare to the waist. A snake was tattooed around one arm. Bob, thought Hamish.

Bob's eyes dropped to Hamish's feet. Hamish was glad he had put on an old pair of trainers instead of his regulation boots, which he often wore even when he was in plain clothes.

"Whit d'ye want?" demanded Bob.

Hamish leaned indolently against the doorjamb. "I heard I could get some good stuff here."

Bob thrust past him and peered up and down. "Come in," he said.

The outside door opened straight into a living room. The noise from the stereo was so loud it seemed to make the thin walls vibrate. There was little furniture, beanbags on the floor, one with a knife slash in it and the contents spilling out onto the bare boards. The room was littered with empty Diet Coke cans. Hamish had never seen so many.