She’d thought of this while she was in the shower after her run. Her dad had gone and she was chewing over the call from Thomas, that Peter wasn’t the father. That meant they had to follow their other leads. She called her mum while she dried herself, and they agreed to go back to speak to Xander and Bradley, respectively. Hannah had no joy tracking down Xander, he seemed to have gone to ground. She wondered about that. Then she remembered the flatmates’ names he gave her, she’d completely forgotten about the note on her phone, had never added them to the whiteboard at her gran’s house. Darren Grant and Faisal McNish. They were easy to find on social media, seemed to spend half their lives watching football in the pub, and Faisal had even posted a picture of a fresh pint of Stella on Instagram an hour ago, tagged Drouthy Neebors. So here she was.

She spotted them at the bar, their eyes on the screen above the door, watching Man City against Barcelona. Hannah studied them for a moment while they were oblivious. Darren was big and broad, a rugby player’s physique, shaven head and scrubby beard. He was studying agriculture, she found out online, and he looked 241like a farmer. Faisal was the same height but thinner, sculpted, wavy black hair and a smart shirt tucked into black jeans. He was doing law at Edinburgh Uni, a fast track to elitism if ever there was one. They were an unlikely couple, and Hannah swallowed as she approached.

‘Excuse me.’

Their eyes drifted from the screen to her, and they both obviously checked out her tits under her open jacket.

‘Hi, darling,’ Darren said. ‘Do you need in to the bar?’

Faisal put his pint down and leaned forwards. ‘Let me save you the bother, love, can I buy you a drink?’

Hannah shook her head. ‘I need to speak to you both about Melanie Cheng.’

Their faces went hard.

Darren’s chin went out. ‘Who’re you?’

Faisal smiled. ‘Oh, you must be the flatmate, Xander said you were playing detective.’

‘Can you tell me where Xander is?’

Darren narrowed his eyes. ‘Still at the cop shop, no thanks to you.’

Faisal frowned at his mate. ‘We don’t have to speak to her, Daz.’

‘You don’t have to, but it might help you.’

Faisal laughed. ‘How could talking to you possibly help us?’

Over Hannah’s shoulder something happened in the football match, the dozen men in the place exhaled with frustration. Darren and Faisal briefly glanced up at the screen.

‘I missed that, fuck’s sake,’ Darren said.

‘A girl is dead,’ Hannah said. ‘Don’t you give a shit?’

‘It’s got nothing to do with us,’ Faisal said.

‘Have the police spoken to either of you?’

‘Why would they speak to us?’ Darren said.

‘You knew Mel.’