The DCI climbed into bed beside her and pulled her close. ‘I’m sure he doesn’t. Nothing is ever wasted. It’s what makes us who we are.’

She forced a smile. ‘Why are you always so bloody sensible, Al?’

‘I told you. It comes with being a DCI,’ he said. ‘It’s a condition of accepting the promotion.’

‘There’s no hope for me, then,’ she said.

‘Nope. Not a chance.’

In spite of her hurry to return to St Andrews they lingered over breakfast, Clare declaring it to be awesome.

‘It is pretty fab,’ the DCI admitted, putting down his fork. ‘Coffee’s excellent, too.’

She glanced at her watch. ‘We’d better get a move on, though.’

‘Tell you what,’ he said, ‘you slip out the side door while I check the bill. Save bumping into the happy couple.’

‘We said we’d split the bill.’

‘And we will. We can sort it out later!’

Clare rose, dabbing her mouth with a linen napkin. ‘I’m not paying for this, though,’ she said, indicating the breakfast tray. ‘Far too extravagant.’

‘Even if it spared you the breakfast from hell?’

‘Even that.’

They drove back through glorious countryside, the fields golden with ripening crops.

‘I love this time of year,’ the DCI said. ‘The colours are amazing.’

Clare was glued to her phone. ‘Mm, yeah.’

‘You’re missing some lovely scenery.’

‘Al, I have a shooting to deal with.’

He sighed. ‘Go on, then. What’s happening?’

She squinted at her phone. ‘Victim’s been ID’d.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Businessman from Glasgow.’

‘Who ID’d him?’

Clare scrolled down the message. ‘His sister. Seems they were staying in a country house for a few days. Six of them.’

‘Staying with friends?’

She frowned, reading on. ‘No. Chris says it’s a house that’s rented out to holidaymakers. Pretty fancy, apparently.’

‘Has he interviewed them?’

‘He says so. But I’ll want to speak to them myself.’ Clare’s phone buzzed again and she clicked to open the message. ‘SOCO still onsite. Been there since late yesterday.’ She glanced at her watch. ‘If we hurry we should make it before they pack up and leave.’

‘Clare, I am not breaking the speed limit because you don’t want to miss anything. Your team will update you. Trust them to do their jobs.’

She made no reply, turning her head away to look out of the window.

A few miles on the DCI slowed the car as they entered Cupar, a small but busy market town. Early on a Sunday morning, the traffic was light and they were soon through the town and heading for St Andrews. ‘Where’s the house?’ he said.

Clare studied her phone. ‘Chris says it’s along Grange Road. South of the town. Go up North Street and I’ll direct you from there.’