The girl screamed once, only the once, but it was enough. By the time the middle-aged couple arrived at the foot of Raeburn Wynd, she was kneeling on the ground, hands over her face, shoulders heaving with sobs. The man studied the corpse for a moment, then tried shielding his wife's eyes, but she had already turned away.

He took out his phone and called the emergency number. It was ten minutes before the police car arrived, during which time the girl tried to leave, the man explaining calmly that she should wait, his hand rubbing her shoulder. His wife was seated kerbside, despite the nighttime chill. November in Edinburgh, not quite cold enough for a frost but heading that way. King's Stables Road wasn't the busiest of thoroughfares. A No Entry sign prevented vehicles using it as a route from the Grassmarket to Lothian Road. At night it could be a lonely spot, with not much more than a multistorey jcar park on one side, Castle Rock and a cemetery on the other. The street lighting seemed underpowered, and pedestrians kept leir wits about them. The middle-aged couple had been to a ol service in St Cuthbert's Church, helping raise money for the “s children's hospital. The woman had bought a holly wreath, rhich now lay on the ground to the left of the corpse. Her husband ldn't help thinking: a minute either way and we might not have rd, might be heading home in the car, the wreath on the back at and Classic FM on the radio.