‘Drag marks on her heels,’ Gates was reciting into his tape machine. ‘Not too severe. Lividity consistent with body’s position, so she was either still alive or only just dead when she was dragged here.’

Gill Templer looked around. ‘How far do we need to widen the search?’

‘Fifty, a hundred yards maybe,’ Gates told her. She glanced in Rebus’s direction, and he saw that she wasn’t hopeful. Unlikely they’d be able to pinpoint exactly where she was dragged from, unless she’d dropped something.

‘Nothing in the pockets?’ Rebus asked.

Gates shook his head. ‘Jewellery on the hands, and quite an expensive watch.’

‘Cartier,’ Gill added.

‘At least we can rule out robbery,’ Rebus muttered, causing Gates to smile.

‘No signs of the clothing having been disturbed,’ the pathologist commented, ‘so you can probably rule out a sexual motive while you’re at it.’

‘Better and better.’ Rebus looked at Gill. ‘This is going to be a cinch.’

‘Hence my ear-to-ear grin,’ she parried solemnly.

Back at St Leonard’s, the station was buzzing with the news, but all Siobhan could feel was a dazed numbness. Playing Quizmaster’s game – the way Philippa probably had – had made Siobhan feel an affinity with the missing student. Now she was no longer a MisPer, and the worst fears had been realised.

‘We always knew, didn’t we?’ Grant said. ‘It was just a matter of when the body turned up.’ He dropped his notebook on to the desk in front of him. Three or four pages were covered with anagrams. He sat down and turned to a fresh sheet, pen in hand. George Silvers and Ellen Wylie were in the CID room too.

‘I took my kids up Arthur’s Seat just last weekend,’ Silvers was saying.

Siobhan asked who found the body.

‘Someone out walking,’ Wylie replied. ‘Middle-aged woman, I think. Daily constitutional.’

‘Be a while before she takes that route again,’ Silvers muttered.

‘Was Flip lying there all this time?’ Siobhan was looking across to where Grant was busy juggling letters. Maybe he was right to keep working, but she couldn’t help feeling a certain distaste. How could he not be affected by the news? Even George Silvers – as cynical as they came – looked a bit shell-shocked.

‘Arthur’s Seat,’ he repeated. ‘Just last weekend.’

Wylie decided to answer Siobhan’s question. ‘Chief Super seems to think so.’ As she spoke, she looked down at her desk, and rubbed her hand along it as though wiping off dust.

It hurts her, Siobhan thought … even saying the words ‘Chief Super’ reminds her of that TV appearance and hardens the sense of resentment.

When one of the phones rang, Silvers went to answer.

‘No, he’s not here,’ he told the caller. Then: ‘Hang on, I’ll check.’ He put his hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Ellen, any idea when Rebus will be back?’