‘This is DI Siobhan Clarke,’ he said by way of introduction. ‘Siobhan, this is DCI Katherine Trask.’

‘But Kathy will do fine,’ Trask said, shaking Clarke’s hand.

Clarke had heard of her. ‘From Stirling?’

‘That’s right.’

Trask was Clarke’s height and a few years older. Her hair was black and shoulder-length, the lines around her eyes the only part of her face giving any real indication of her age.

‘You’ve been working the domestic abuse case against Mr Haggard,’ Trask continued. ‘That makes you a valuable com­modity.’

‘Me and DC Christine Esson both,’ Clarke corrected her.

‘Well, any time either of you thinks there’s something the rest of the team should know, don’t be shy.’

‘Understood.’

‘And you’re okay with the sudden turnaround? From offender to murder victim, I mean?’

‘I think I’ll be fine, but we can’t forget that he was a seasoned abuser.’

‘Yet,’ Fox broke in, ‘there’s plenty of evidence that he regretted his past and was preparing to atone.’

‘He was desperate, Malcolm,’ Clarke snapped back at him. ‘A bent and violent cop who was going to blow the whistle to avoid jail.’

Trask held up a hand, palm outwards. ‘Can we maybe focus on our job, which is identifying and charging his murderer?’ Her eyes were on Clarke, maybe having second thoughts about her selection.

‘Of course.’ Clarke tried to look contrite.

‘Rest of the team should be here any minute,’ Trask said. ‘Neither of you is new to MIT, so you know the drill. Autopsy is scheduled for eleven thirty. We need to get uniforms organised to search for the weapon.’

‘Victim’s phone and computer?’ Clarke asked.

‘Undergoing forensic examination.’

‘Stephanie Pelham can almost certainly ID the second phone found at the scene. Francis Haggard took it from her forcibly.’

‘We’ll get to that in good time, Siobhan,’ Trask stated.

‘If the victim’s phone and computer are at Howdenhall,’ Fox commented, ‘be warned that they sometimes promise more than they deliver.’

‘Then I’m making it your job to chivvy them, Malcolm.’

Trask broke off at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Christine Esson was leading two other detectives towards the MIT office. They could have been mistaken for a tour group, the two new faces admiring the relative grandeur of their surroundings.

‘Looks like we can get started,’ Trask said, giving a slight tug of her buttoned jacket’s hem, after which she was ready.