Clarke shook her head. ‘I know you and Ronnie did.’ She dug into the files on her desk, finding one of the transcripts. ‘How’s she doing?’

‘She’s got her sister looking after her.’

‘Well, that’s something. Who’s the liaison officer?’

‘Gina Hendry. She says she knows you.’

Clarke nodded. ‘We go back a bit. I’ll talk to her.’

‘Tomorrow maybe, eh, boss?’ Esson was holding up her phone, screen towards Clarke so she could see the time display.

‘Already?’ Clarke turned towards the window. Outside it had grown dark.

‘Been a long day, and I think it’s my turn to get them in.’

‘You make a compelling case, Detective Constable Esson.’ Clarke reached down to the floor for her shoulder bag.

Siobhan Clarke lived in a tenement flat just off Broughton Street, not much more than a five-minute walk from Gayfield Square. Esson had taken her to a bar on Leith Walk, where they’d shared some nachos to go with their drinks. Leith Walk itself was the usual mess, courtesy of the roadworks for the new tram line. Some sections of pavement were all but inaccessible, and the bar owner had hung a banner above the door to let potential customers know that Yes We ARE Open – And Ready To Serve You! Clarke wasn’t sure how far a single plate of nachos and two rounds of gin and tonics would boost his coffers. As they’d left, he’d said he hoped to see them again soon.

‘And bring a friend – bring lots of friends.’

With plenty of distance between them and the next occupied table, Clarke and Esson had found themselves discussing the case. They’d tried not to at first, but had soon run out of topics. Esson had swirled the ice in her glass as she started things off.

‘The arresting officers, I could tell from their notes that they were trying to go easy on him. One of their own and all that. And there’s Cheryl standing at the far end of the hall with blood pouring from her nose and tears streaming. It was the neighbours who called it in. Far from the first time they’d heard screams. They’d summoned us one time previously, but Haggard had talked his way out when the uniforms pitched up. I thought the days were past when we turned a blind eye to domestics.’

‘Doesn’t help when you’re confronted by someone who carries the same warrant card as you.’