Dorothy stared out at Bruntsfield Links, crinkly with sunshine. The woman on the line had a heavy Eastern European accent, Dorothy’s guess was middle-aged.

‘Hi, I’m trying to track down one of your staff, Monika Belenko?’

‘Who are you?’

‘I’m the personal assistant of Jacob Glassman, you clean his house?’

‘Glassman, yes.’

‘I think Monika might’ve lost a piece of jewellery when she was at the Glassman house, I want to return it to her.’

‘Bring it to our office, we’ll make sure she gets it.’

‘No offence, but I’d rather hand it to her directly, just to be sure. Do you have a mobile number for her?’

‘We cannot give out that information.’

‘I see,’ Dorothy said. ‘Well, Mr Glassman was very insistent that I get this back to her today. Directly to her.’

‘We can’t give out private employee information.’

‘Well, if she’s working today, perhaps you could tell me where she is? I could pop in and drop it off.’

‘I’m sorry, we can’t do that either.’

‘That’s a real shame,’ Dorothy said. ‘If that’s the case, Mr Glassman might have to reconsider his cleaning contract with you. I believe it’s a very competitive market at the moment.’

Long pause, some conversation happening with the mouthpiece covered.231

‘Please hold on a second,’ the woman said, her voice dripping with disgust.

The house on Greenbank Crescent was a 1920s bungalow with a converted attic and a big modern extension to the side. Dorothy walked up the path and could hear a hoover running inside. She was glad to be out of the house. She’d spent several more hours watching footage from Jacob’s house, nothing. She’d checked the five cameras in the same order as before, first for the times when Susan was on her daily visit, then for when the cleaner had been in. There was footage of her hoovering and dusting, mopping the floor in the kitchen and generally knocking the place into shape. Dorothy had half a mind to enlist her cleaning services herself. Then she’d looked at the footage from other times during the day, just Jacob slowly shuffling around the house, bugger all else. She wasn’t sure why she was here on Greenbank Crescent, but she didn’t know what else to do.

She rang the bell and the hoover went off, but no one came to the door. She rang again, heard footsteps then the door opened.

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Cavanagh is not in.’