‘Hm,’ Clare said. ‘We’ll see what he’s saying after a few weeks of prison food.’ She slammed the fridge door shut. ‘Anything else?’

‘Good news on the Range Rover.’

‘Eamon Ferry’s?’

‘Yeah. Traces of gunshot residue. Glasgow cops are interviewing him today but I doubt he knows much about it. Doug Gerrard probably moved the gun out of the car before they called us in.’

Clare nodded. ‘Sounds about right.’ She switched the kettle on to make a hot drink. ‘Pity we can’t pin anything on Big Val, though.’

‘Yeah. But she’s a pro, Clare. Covers her back every time.’

‘I’ll get her one day. You see if I don’t.’ She began pouring boiling water into a mug. ‘What about Tony?’

Chris shook his head. ‘According to Zoe he won’t be back today. He left a message. Said as it was all pretty much tied up there was no point in him being here.’

Clare frowned at the mention of Zoe’s name. ‘She okay about him? Not upset?’

Chris began to smile. ‘Oh yeah.’

Clare looked at him. ‘What? Come on, spill.’

‘Remember the cake? The one she made for him and she wouldn’t give anyone else a slice?’

‘Yes.’

‘And he said it wasn’t like anything he’d ever tasted.’

‘Yes.’

‘Apparently it was a special recipe. Just for Tony.’

Clare began to laugh. ‘Oh God. What did she put in it?’

‘Half a tin of Pedigree Chum.’

Clare stared. ‘The dog food?’

‘Yup.’

‘Can humans even eat that stuff?’ She recalled the smell of some of the tins she’d tried out on Benjy before switching to dried food. ‘Oh I feel sick at the thought of it.’

‘Apparently it’s safe enough,’ Chris said, ‘but he did have that gastric upset so…’

Clare laughed. ‘I suppose the moral of that tale is don’t mess with Zoe.’

‘What we up to today, then?’ Chris asked.

Clare picked up her mug and sipped from it. ‘Think I’ll pop along to the hotel and have a word with Gaby before she heads off home. We have half the house party in custody so I don’t see any need for her to stay on.’

Gaby was delighted to see her. ‘A friendly face,’ she said standing back to admit Clare to her room. Clare had been in a few of the rooms at the Kenlybank Hotel but none so plush as Gaby’s. Up on the top floor it had views across the countryside, north towards St Andrews and east to the North Sea. The enormous bed was piled high with pillows and cushions and there was a small sofa in front of a coffee table on which sat a hamper of snacks.

‘Nice, isn’t it?’ Gaby said. ‘Compared to London hotels. You really are spoiled here.’

Clare smiled round at the room. ‘It certainly is.’