His shoulders relaxed a few centimetres. No one had told him about the glass. Whatever had happened to Bruce Jenson was nothing to do with his visit. It was just unfortunate timing. Even if he had put a crack in the glass, that didn’t make him responsible for Jenson’s death. Except that he’d left the room more easily accessible to would-be burglars. Cracked glass didn’t require much force to break.

‘Was anything taken?’

‘Mr Jenson’s son says not,’ Janet Monroe answered.

DI Graham shot her a look that made it clear she should have kept quiet.

‘Did you know Mr Jenson was suffering from dementia before you visited?’ Graham asked.

‘Yes. It was a nursing home, so I knew there were health problems, but not how advanced it was. Had I known, there would have been no point going.’

‘So, what was it exactly that you wanted to talk to Mr Jenson about? I understand your father used to work for him, but was there something specific you were pursuing?’

‘No, I was just curious about my father’s history. I suppose I wanted to know if Jenson remembered my father. Being back in Scotland has made me curious about my past and my family. I was looking for more of a connection with Edinburgh.’

‘But you used your police badge,’ Graham noted. ‘You didn’t sign in. The nurse you spoke to got the impression you were there in an official capacity.’

‘My fault. I was somewhere between being lazy and being on autopilot. I’m so used to walking into places in Scotland and just showing the badge to gain access, I didn’t give it a second thought. Also, I’m pretty recognisable here. To my knowledge, I’m the only French officer in Police Scotland, so there was no way I was deceiving her about who I was. It was just quicker. I fully accept it was the wrong way to go about it, but she saw my name and would have been able to identify me just the same as if I’d signed the visitors’ book.’

Pax Graham flicked through a sheet of notes.

‘There will obviously be extensive forensic testing, both of the body and items in the room. Can you confirm what you recall touching, so we know where to expect to find your DNA.’

‘Sure. Door handles, the bin, the surface where the vase and paper towels were, the floor. I wiped his chin, so also Mr Jenson’s face. I leaned on the chair as I did that, so maybe the cushions, too. I also picked up the couple of photos that were on the bedside table, looking to see if any of them were older and might have gone back to the days of the factory, but they were all modern pictures of his family, I assumed.’