Fox cleared his throat, patently feeling sidelined. ‘Did you snatch Kenneth Lloyd’s phone for the same reason you didn’t give your name to the switchboard – to try to remain anonymous, in other words?’

‘Maybe. But actually I just think it was closest.’

‘And you ran off with it because …’

She stared at him. ‘I was freaked out. I’d just seen a dead body.’

‘A body you recognised?’ Fox persisted. She shook her head. ‘You’d not been to the flat before? Maybe shown the victim round?’ Another shake of the head, though she had stopped making eye contact and was busying herself with her jacket zip.

‘You knew the flat belonged to your parents, though?’ Clarke asked quietly, receiving a nod of agreement.

There was a tapping at the door. Clarke rose to answer. The desk officer was there, and he wasn’t alone. Clarke recognised Michael Leckie, Francis Haggard’s lawyer.

‘I believe you have Gabrielle Mackenzie here,’ he said. ‘I’ve been asked to represent her. Can I see her, please?’

‘We’re just gathering information, Mr Leckie.’

‘All the same.’

Their staring contest lasted a few seconds. ‘Be my guest,’ Clarke eventually conceded.

Leckie refused to meet her eyes as he brushed past. The desk officer just shrugged and retreated to the stairs. By the time Clarke went back in, Gaby Mackenzie was on her feet.

‘But how?’ she was yelling. ‘I don’t fucking believe this! How did she know?’ She looked to the two detectives. ‘Did you tell her?’

‘Tell who what?’ Clarke asked.

‘My fucking mother, of course – that’s who sent him here. But since I didn’t tell anyone I was coming …’ She broke off and picked up her phone from the table. ‘Bloody tracker – that’s what it is, isn’t it?’

‘Your parents just think,’ the solicitor said, keeping his voice level, ‘that proper representation might help you avoid falling into any traps.’

‘No traps here, Mr Leckie,’ Clarke said.

‘Unless we’re missing what they might be,’ Fox added. ‘Maybe you’d care to enlighten us?’

‘It’s merely precautionary,’ Leckie said.

‘We’re done anyway,’ Clarke said. ‘Ms Mackenzie was just on her way out. A wasted journey for you, Mr Leckie.’

‘But still probably costly for your clients, eh?’ Fox added. ‘Don’t let him give you a lift home,’ he advised Mackenzie. ‘One of those tourist rickshaws would be cheaper.’

‘What do I do about the phone?’ Mackenzie asked, regaining her composure.

‘Hand it in here when you can,’ Clarke advised. ‘We’ll see it gets back to its owner.’

Mackenzie nodded, looking around to check if she’d forgotten anything.

‘What about prints and DNA?’ Fox was asking Clarke. ‘Even if Gaby doesn’t think she touched anything at the crime scene.’