Duncan Cocker’s cigarette sent a smoke signal into the vivid blue sky. ‘Yeah . . . dunno, really.’ He leaned back against the grey harled wall and loosened his tie, tucking the pile of house schedules under one arm. ‘They’re kinda. . .’ A shrug rearranged the creases on his cheap grey suit, the fabric thin and shiny, like its owner. ‘You know? ’

Not even vaguely.

The back garden was big enough for a swing set, a slide, and a Wendy house that looked as if it’d been built by a drunken chimpanzee. Lichen flecked the patio slabs. A gas barbecue and a set of plastic furniture lay abandoned in the middle of the grass.

Off in the middle distance, a tractor rumbled along the edge of a field. Rapeseed flowers glowed violent yellow, as if someone had taken a highlighter pen to the landscape. A pigeon whrrrrooooed in the thick leylandii hedge.

All very bucolic.

Logan shaded his eyes against the sun. ‘So he drank, he smoked dope, and he dumped her? ’

‘Well . . . they were always doing that. Storming out, “I’ll never speak to you again, you lying bastard.” “Screw you, you mental bitch.” And next thing you know they’re tying each other’s tonsils in knots with their tongues. Even when he’s cheating on her.’

Chalmers stopped scribbling in her notebook and stared at him. ‘And Agnes is OK with that? ’

‘Oh, she makes him pay for it, but basically: if Ton’s happy with it, she is too. Tell you, he’s had dogs less loyal than her, and I’m talking Alsatians.’ Duncan made a little circular motion with the tip of his cigarette. ‘You hear about her tattoo? ’

‘And you’re sure they’ve not been in contact? No missed calls, or texts? ’

‘Nah. Ton’s like that though: man of mystery. Doesn’t like being pinned down.’ Duncan checked his watch, took another puff. ‘Bastards should be here by now. Got another couple to show round at half two.’

Logan moved across the patio, so the sun was warm against his back and not blazing in his eyes. ‘Any idea where they’d go? Ever talk about escaping somewhere else? Down south, maybe? ’

A frown creased Duncan’s thin face. Then he swept a hand outwards at the fields and trees. ‘Why’d you want to escape all this? It’s, like the best place in the world.’

‘They never talked about leaving Aberdeen? ’

‘Sometimes, when he’s stoned, Ton bangs on about how great San Francisco is, but. . .’ Duncan leaned forward and dropped his voice to a whisper. ‘There were some Chinatown Triad guys after him: that’s why his mum and dad had to pack up and do a runner over here. The way Ton tells it, there’s this big gunfight behind some restaurant and he caps two of them, but they get his cousin. Bang, right between the eyes.’