Carphone Warehouse was a scruffy blue place sandwiched between shinier Three and EE shops. Why did phone places always herd together? Across the road the castle loomed over Princes Street Gardens, tourists stopping on the pavement to take pictures as Hannah strode inside and pulled the receipt from her pocket. Mel obviously didn’t have the phone on her when she was found, so where was it? Probably smashed and in a skip somewhere. The receipt said Mel, or whoever bought it, was served by Kyle.

She approached the counter and asked for him. The guy behind the counter was short and stocky, Eastern European accent, a spread of gothic tattoos up his arms and poking out from the neck of his T-shirt. He nodded at one of the other employees dealing with a middle-aged woman.

‘Kyle is busy, can I help?’

‘I need to speak to Kyle.’

The guy shrugged. ‘Then you wait.’

Hannah hung around nearby. Kyle was about the same age as her, soul patch tuft of beard on his chin, pallid skin and bags under his eyes.

He seemed to take an age with the woman, who was all handsy with him, touching his arm and laughing at something he said. Get on with it, for God’s sake, buy the phone or get lost. Eventually the woman chose something then they went to the desk. It then took another age to get a box from the back, then go over the contract, then persuade her to sign for insurance and buy a pink diamante case.

Finally, with much waving and smiling, she was gone and the Polish guy nodded Kyle towards Hannah.196

‘Can I help you, Madam?’

Madam. They were the same age. Hannah showed him the receipt.

‘Do you remember selling this phone to my friend Melanie?’

Kyle frowned at her then the receipt. ‘We sell a lot of phones in here, miss.’

Now it was ‘miss’.

‘Please take a look at it.’

Kyle peered at the piece of paper. ‘This was almost two months ago.’

‘Well?’

He laughed. ‘I don’t remember.’

Hannah got her phone out, flicked through the camera roll, thumbed up one of Indy and Mel dressed up for something, she couldn’t even remember what now. She showed it to Kyle.

‘The Scots-Chinese girl. She had a light Dundee accent.’

Kyle looked at the screen then at Hannah. ‘“Had”?’

‘What?’

‘You said “had” not “has”.’

Hannah felt a weight on her shoulders.

Kyle narrowed his eyes. ‘What’s this about?’

Hannah looked around the shop, glossy adverts selling hi-tech shit that would be obsolete in a year or two. ‘She’s dead.’

‘Shit,’ Kyle said. ‘Sorry.’

‘She was strangled.’

‘Jesus.’ Kyle looked at the Polish guy for help, but he kept his head behind a computer screen.

‘I need to find out what happened,’ Hannah said.

Kyle looked at the receipt again. ‘And you think this phone has something to do with it?’