Ava considered how to answer that. Selina had been a number of things. Upset, angry, bereft. Jealous. That was the word Ava was avoiding. Jealous of her and Callanach’s relationship. She’d got the wrong impression, that much was clear, only how could she explain that without embarrassment. Natasha had teased her about Callanach plenty of times, but that was just ribbing. There was nothing behind it.

‘I think she’ll be okay and don’t try changing the subject. I thought you didn’t know anybody in Scotland apart from the MIT reprobates. I know the man in the nursing home wasn’t part of a case before today. His name comes up blank on the system. You’re going to have to explain it tomorrow, so you might as well have a practice run today.’

Callanach sat down next to her on the sofa, lifting her injured leg so that it rested on his thigh.

‘Bruce Jenson was my father’s boss, years ago,’ he said. ‘Back when my dad got his first real job working for a furniture company called Edinburgh Bespoke. In fact, it was before I was even born. I spent some of my holiday researching my family’s history, asking my mother about it, so when I got back, I thought I’d look him up.’

‘Bullshit.’ Ava watched as Callanach drained half a glass of wine in one mouthful. ‘Since when do you need to down that much wine to talk about historical research? What aren’t you telling me?’

‘Nothing,’ he replied. ‘No drama, no problem. Whatever happened to him today was coincidental. I’ll hand DI Graham my statement in the morning, he can interview me about the forensics and that’ll be the end of it.’

Ava stared at him. ‘Fine, I’ll play along. So Jenson was your father’s boss thirty-odd years ago. Why go and see him?’

Callanach shrugged. ‘Curiosity, I suppose. A desire to make a connection with the past.’

‘All right. But when I told you he was dead, your face was blank. There was some shock when you realised you were the last person on record as seeing him alive, but you didn’t express any sadness for him, or concern for his family.’

‘I met the man once for fifteen minutes. How do you expect me to react?’ Callanach asked, leaning his head back on the sofa and closing his eyes.

‘I expect you to write your name in the visitors’ book and not flash your badge when you have what seems like the most innocuous reason in the world for visiting an old man. Also, I hate it when you lie to me because it makes me feel like you don’t trust me and that’s kind of upsetting, it turns out.’

‘Ava, don’t do that,’ Callanach whispered.

‘I’m not doing anything,’ she said, taking his glass from his hand and helping herself to a sip of wine.