The bar was called The Basement because it was in a basement, reached by a short flight of stone steps from the pavement. It was gloomy and the furniture looked like props from the Alien films. There was a traditional pub almost the same distance away in the other direction, but Clarke had chosen this place because she sensed Fox would be less at ease in it. The drinkers were young, the music as jagged as the seats and tables. Clarke ordered a glass of white wine and Fox a spiced tomato juice.

“Can’t hear myself think,” he complained, so Clarke relented and led them back outdoors to the tiny courtyard where smokers could usually be found. There was a bench attached to the wall and a couple of slatted tables, plus a scattering of wicker chairs. They sat opposite one another with their drinks. The night was chill, and Clarke wrapped her coat around her, pleased to see that she was better prepared than Fox, who wore only a thin dark blue suit, shirt and tie.

“Better?” she inquired.

“Quieter, certainly.” He buttoned his suit jacket as he spoke. “I’ll make this brief—it’s about you and David Galvin.” He watched for her reaction and she couldn’t help but give one, her eyes widening slightly, glass stopping halfway to her mouth.

“What about him?”

“He works as a fiscal depute.”

“I know that.”

“On the Procurator Fiscal’s staff.”

“To state the blindingly obvious.”

“And the two of you are an item?”

“What the hell has that got to do with you?”

Fox held up a hand to appease her. “It shouldn’t have anything to do with me—except that Professional Standards has been contacted anonymously, and that communication has been passed along.”

“Anonymous?”

Fox nodded. “But obviously from someone Galvin works beside. Maybe someone with a grudge.”

“So what does the message say?”

“It simply informs Professional Standards that the two of you are spending a lot of time together and that you know one another intimately…”

Had she been any less furious and irritated, she might have found his language amusing. Instead of which, her face remained stony as she told him to go on.

“There’s not much more,” he admitted with a shrug. “Messenger says we should maybe look into your relationship, in case there’s any element of impropriety to be found.”

“Such as me influencing David and vice versa?”

“I suppose so.” Fox shifted a little, his drink untouched as yet. “Do many people know about you and Mr. Galvin?”

“I’ve not told anyone.” She gave him a hard stare. “It’s not that I think we’ve got anything to hide…”

“Of course.” Fox paused. “And on his part…?”

“Sounds as if he might have told one person at least.” She lifted her phone. “I better talk to him.” But then she studied the illuminated screen. “Soon as I can get a signal.”