‘You know a lot about me, I have very little facade. Frankly, I don’t see the point. Intrigue bores me. What’s interesting is how few facts you give people about yourself. I know you’re American, that you can’t see colour, and that you’re good at reading faces, but nothing personal.’

‘What is it you want to know?’

‘Why you do your job the way you do.’

‘I’m a psychologist. We don’t follow an operating manual.It’s not like police procedure.’ Connie grabbed a small dish of dried wasabi peas from a passing waiter and tossed a few into her mouth.

‘I’ve worked with a few psychologists. None of them have ever been caught in the mortuary cuddling a corpse before.’ He swivelled his stool round 90 degrees to watch her profile.

Connie put her head in her hand, elbow resting on the bar, and met his gaze.

‘Dr Lambert told you.’

‘She had to report it to someone in case there was ever a query about it. For what it’s worth, I got the impression that she rather admires you.’

‘I can only tell you what I told her. It’s about perspectives. The murderer’s, the victim’s. This only works if I allow myself to see and feel what they saw and felt. Broad-brush profiling is like using a baseball bat to pick a lock. The killer’s Caucasian and unlikely to step outside his own racial group. He’s between twenty-five and fifty-five, because that’s what statistical likelihood tells us, plus he needs a house, a car, money. He’s got a home in the Edinburgh area somewhere. That’s too much stalking to have done for someone out of the area. His intellect is within average ranges because he didn’t give himself away and has the ability to adapt and persuade. All of which is a good baseline profile, but where is he? What’s he doing right now? Has he killed Elspeth? If not, what’s he saying to her? What’s he asking her for?’

‘You’ve done it again,’ Baarda said, getting up from the stool and slipping his jacket over his shoulders.

‘What?’

‘You answered a question about you by talking about the case. I’m not sure if you’ve practised until it’s a flawless skill, or if you don’t even realise you’re doing it.’ He deposited a pile of notes on the bar. ‘I think I’ll skip dinner in favour of sleep. See you at the yoga studio.’

Connie watched him go then raced after him, catching him just as he exited onto the street.

‘Baarda, wait.’

He stopped.