There had never been a need for counselling or referral. Breck’s bosses at Torphichen Place – his base these past three years – couldn’t get enough of him. Reading between the lines, Fox could see that Breck was being fast-tracked. He was already young for a detective sergeant, and DI looked achievable before the age of thirty. Fox himself had been thirty-eight. Breck had been educated privately at George Watson’s College. He’d played rugby for the second fifteen. A BSc from the University of Edinburgh. Parents still alive, both of them GPs. An older brother, Colin, who had emigrated to the USA, where he worked as an engineer. Fox pulled out his handkerchief, found a dry bit, and emptied his nose into it. The noise was enough to have Mrs Stephens peering in at him through the narrow window next to the door. Her face had stiffened further with distaste. He’d be leaving his germs all over her office, defiling her private fiefdom. Though he didn’t really need to, he blew his nose again, almost as noisily.

Then he closed the online file. Mrs Stephens knew what he would do next – shut down her whole system. Yet another precaution – he wanted his search to be erased as far as possible. But before he did that, he typed in another name – Anthea Inglis. Definitely against procedure, but he did it anyway. It only took a couple of minutes for him to learn that she wasn’t married and had never been married.

That she’d grown up on a farm in Fife.

That she’d attended the local college before moving to Edinburgh.

That she’d had a variety of jobs before joining the force.

That her full name was Florence Anthea Inglis.

If one of her names had come from The Generation Game, he wondered if the other might have originated with The Magic Roundabout. Fox had to stifle a smile as he began closing everything down. He emerged from the office, leaving the door ajar, and replaced the file in its cabinet, making sure it couldn’t be differentiated from any of the others. When he was satisfied, he closed and locked the drawer and made to hand the key to Mrs Stephens. She was resting her weight against the edge of a colleague’s desk, arms still folded, so he placed the key down next to her instead.