“Sure.”

“Names, DoBs, photos?”

She nodded. “And anything else relevant: distinguishing marks; where they were last seen…”

“Got it,” Rebus said. “And thanks.”

She accepted this with the beginnings of a blush and retreated to her desk. Rebus found a pad of paper and began to write down a few salient details about Sally Hazlitt and the others. Twenty minutes later he took the information, along with a selection of photos, over to Esson. She seemed bemused.

“Ever heard of e-mail?”

“Is there something wrong with my handwriting?”

She smiled and shook her head, then read out a line from his notes on Zoe Beddows. “ ‘Liked the men’?”

“I’m sure you can find a way of rephrasing it.”

“I certainly hope so.” She studied the photographs. “I’ll scan these in as best I can. Nothing a bit more high-res?”

“Afraid not.”

“Oh well.”

“I see you’ve met Christine,” Siobhan Clarke said, approaching the desk. She had a bag slung over one shoulder and a laptop tucked under her other arm. “Don’t let her challenge you to one of her shoot-’em-up games. She’s lethal.”

Esson was blushing again as Rebus followed Clarke to her own little parcel of land.

“How was Pitlochry?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“The police station?”

“Serviceable.” Clarke looked over towards Esson. “Thing about playing games online,” she went on, “you get to know people.”

“Annette McKie played online games,” Rebus commented.

“And Christine’s been in touch with dozens of people she played with. If any of them hear a peep from their friend Zelda, Christine will know about it…” She broke off and stared at the boxes. “Well done you, by the way. Though now they’re here…” She made show of scanning the office for a spare desk.

“Is there another room we could use?” Rebus suggested.

“I’ll look into it.” She shrugged herself free of her coat and sat down heavily, before noticing his jacket draped over the chair.

“Let me get that,” Rebus said.

“No, leave it.” She was opening the laptop. “Got the interviews on here,” she explained. “Audio only.”

“Was there someone there from Tayside Police?”

“An inspector, all the way from Perth. We didn’t exactly hit it off.”

“But you spoke to everyone you needed to?”

She nodded and rubbed her eyes, the fatigue obvious.

“Want me to get you a coffee?” Rebus suggested.

She looked at him. “So it’s true what they say—there is a first time for everything.”

“And a last, if you’re going to have a go at me.”

“Sorry.” She allowed herself a yawn. “The two Poles work the night shift. Stefan Skiladz did the translating. Both were involved in petty crime in their younger days, back in the homeland. Gang stuff. Fights and pilfering. They swear they’ve kept their noses clean since coming here. I’ll run their names through the system, just to be sure. I already ran a check on Skiladz, and he was telling us the truth—never a hint of backpedaling since he got out of jail.”