‘You’re forgetting that prisons are not comfy places for cops, Siobhan. Added to which, men who’re violent to women don’t always go down well with the other cons. In his shoes, I’d do everything in my power to avoid that outcome.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Clarke conceded.

Hendry glanced at her phone, checking the time. ‘I said three thirty.’

‘Am I giving you a lift?’

She shook her head. ‘Mine’s around the corner. We’ll take both – trust me, parking is not going to be an issue.

Stephanie Pelham lived in a large contemporary glass box with electric gates and a driveway twice the size of the car park at Gayfield Square police station. There was a yellow Porsche parked in front of a two-car garage. By the time Clarke and Hendry had parked, Pelham was at the front door to meet them. Wavy blonde hair, coloured nails, but casually dressed and probably sporting less make-up than if she were venturing out. The interior of the house as she led them inside was all pale wood and cream walls, with a floating staircase leading to the upper floor. She climbed ahead of them, explaining that the living area was upstairs to make best use of the view.

‘It’s beautiful,’ Clarke said, meaning it. The heightened position of the house, on a leafy street by Corstorphine Hill, meant much of Edinburgh was laid out before them, thanks to a wall of glass sliding doors beyond which a deep terrace stretched the width of the building.

‘That’s why I’m getting it and he’s not. No way I was losing this to the scumbag.’

‘I believe he’s some sort of developer?’ Clarke enquired.

‘Amongst other things. He did the apartment block that became Cheryl’s prison – to be frank, that’s how they could afford to buy.’

Pelham had picked up a wine glass, an inch of pale yellow liquid left in it. She pointed towards Clarke.

‘I’m going to guess gin and tonic.’

‘Maybe not while on duty.’

‘And I know Gina is a red wine girl,’ Pelham said, ignoring Clarke. There was a kitchen visible through a doorway, and she was making towards it. Clarke looked at Hendry, who gave a twitch of the mouth. This, she seemed to be saying, is the price of admission.

‘Stephanie did the whole interior,’ she explained. ‘It’s what she does for a living.’

Clarke nodded, as she felt was expected, though she harboured reservations about some of Stephanie Pelham’s touches. Too many floor-standing sculptures and abstract wall hangings for her taste.

‘Exotic,’ she commented. The smile Hendry gave indicated that she wasn’t exactly a fan either.

When the drinks arrived, they sat around a large wooden dining table. They’d just finished chinking glasses when they heard soft footsteps on the stairs.

‘Ah, here she is.’ Pelham got up to fetch another drink while Hendry made the introductions.