‘If you wanted to chuck a knife,’ Esson broke in, ‘the tram works would be as good a place as any. Lots of nice deep holes.’

‘Look on the bright side,’ Atwal commented. ‘MIT office is just around the corner. Couldn’t be handier.’

MIT: Major Incident Team, who would gather whenever a serious enough crime took place. In Edinburgh, a suite of rooms had been set aside in Leith police station for use whenever the MIT needed it. Not even a five-minute walk. But it wasn’t a given that Clarke and Esson would be chosen. Esson seemed to be reading Clarke’s mind.

‘They’d be mad not to.’

Clarke gave a slow, uncertain nod and began studying the living room again. ‘We got the victim’s phone and computer?’

‘Yes to both,’ one of the SOC team piped up from behind her mask and visor. ‘Plus a second phone.’

‘Probably the one he took from Stephanie Pelham,’ Esson commented.

‘Anything else of interest?’ Clarke asked.

‘There’s a holdall in the bedroom,’ Atwal answered. ‘Half filled with clothes. I’m guessing he hadn’t been living here long. Police uniform hanging up in the wardrobe along with a couple of nice suits. Bottles of vodka and tequila in a carrier bag on the worktop, fast-food containers in the fridge and the bin.’ He paused. ‘Oh, and some cannabis and cocaine.’

‘Where?’ Clarke asked.

‘Bedside drawer for the cannabis, coffee table and bathroom sink for the coke.’

‘Do we start talking to the neighbours or await further instructions?’ Esson was asking Clarke.

‘I reckon we won’t have long to wait. All sorts of alarm bells are going to be ringing …’ Clarke broke off, staring past Esson’s shoulder. ‘And speak of the devil …’

Esson turned her head and saw Malcolm Fox march into the flat, suited up like everyone else, eyes fixed on the figures in the doorway. He shared a nod of greeting with Haj Atwal, who then headed into the living room. Fox’s gaze shifted to the body on the stripped wooden floor.

‘Doesn’t exactly help matters, does it?’ he stated. ‘There’s at least one citizen journalist outside already, by the way, filming everything that happens.’

‘And a murder victim in here who’s now become our client,’ Clarke replied. Then, ‘You got here quick.’

‘ACC phoned me. Soon as I heard the address, I knew who it would be.’ He exhaled noisily.

‘Christine and I know more about Francis Haggard than anyone, Malcolm. You need to make sure your boss is aware of that.’

Fox fixed her with a look. ‘The T in MIT stands for Team, Siobhan. Egos left at the door and no room for hidden agendas.’ He stopped when he saw she was about to erupt. ‘Anyway, this is hardly the place …’

‘You really don’t want me outside the tent, Malcolm,’ Clarke warned him, before setting off down the hallway.