‘Alive, this one would have been pretty,’ Rhona said.

Bill nodded. ‘Not the usual type for this area,’ he said. ‘A bit more class, but rented all the same. I’ll leave you to it? Just shout if you need anything.’

She was nearly an hour taking samples of everything that might prove useful later on. After she’d finished with the surrounds, she concentrated on the body, under the fingernails, the hair, the mouth. Dr Sissons would take the anal and penile swabs.

The skin felt cold through her gloves, but with the blond hair flopped over the empty eyes, he might have been any teenager fast asleep. Rhona lifted the hair and studied the face, trying to imagine what the boy would have looked like in life. There were none of the tell-tale signs of poor diet and drug abuse. This one had been healthy. So how did he end up here?

‘Finished?’ Bill’s timing was immaculate. ‘Mortuary boys are here.’ He looked at her face. ‘Go home and have a hot toddy,’ he said.

A hot toddy was Bill’s answer to almost any ailment.

Rhona got up from the bed and unwrapped her hands. ‘Any idea who he is?’ she said.

‘Not yet. But I don’t think he was Scottish.’ He pointed to the hall. Behind the door hung a leather jacket and a football scarf. ‘Manchester United,’ he said in mock disgust.

‘There are people up here who support Man U,’ Rhona suggested cheekily, knowing Bill was a Celtic man.

‘Yes, but they wouldn’t flaunt it. Not in Glasgow anyway.’

Rhona laughed.

‘All right then?’

‘Yes.’ She began to pack her samples in the case.

‘The Sergeant will run you home.’

He walked with her to the front door.

‘How’s that Irishman of yours these days? Still playing at the club?’

‘Yes, he is.’

‘Must get down and hear him again soon. Good jazz player. You’ll ring me as soon as you’ve got anything?’

‘Of course.’

Sean was still asleep when Rhona got back. With the heavy curtains drawn the room was dark, although outside dawn was already touching the university rooftops. She had stopped at the lab on her way home and checked the swabs for saliva. It was there all right.

She left a note on the bench for Chrissy in case she got there first, giving her a brief history of the night’s events, then she headed home for a few hours’ sleep.

Rhona pulled her dress over her head, kicked off her shoes and slid under the duvet. She wrapped her chilled body round Sean’s. He grunted and moved his arm over to take her hand.

‘Okay?’ he mumbled.

‘Okay,’ she said, but he was already back asleep.

Rhona closed her eyes and tried to relax into his warmth. She had been at many murder scenes, some more horrible than the one tonight. Death didn’t scare her, not when it was reduced to tests and samples. But tonight was different. There was something about that particular boy. Something she hadn’t been able to put her finger on. Not until the Sergeant had put it into words for her, coming back in the car.