A hen night in Glasgow leaves the brideto-be dead on a toilet floor, her body twisted, her face stretched in a macabre grin. With no suspect and no motive the police hit a brick wall. But the murderer has left a hidden trail of forensic evidence for Dr Rhona MacLeod to find. A trail that leads to a world of exploitation and sexual obsession. The green baize walls and heavily carpeted hallway smothered all sound. She passed four doors and stood outside number five, waiting for the double vodka to swim through her blood stream. There were four of them. Spiked hair, designer stubble, muscled bodies under patterned short-sleeved shirts. A stag night maybe? Or just guys who liked working out on girls like her.
