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we’re getting somewhere. So you weren’t near the Necropolis but you decided you had to run. Something you didn’t want us to know. Or to find. You got a girlfriend, Robert?’
    Wylde lost his spot on the wall again, his eyes betraying him as he looked at Narey properly for the first time. He looked away again quickly but she’d seen his fear.
    ‘I asked if you had a girlfriend.’
    ‘No comment.’
    ‘Right. Can’t really see there being a queue of girls daft enough. You’re hardly God’s gift, Robert. What do you think, DC Toshney? Hard to believe there’s some girl out there with this eejit’s name tattooed on her back.’
    Wylde’s head flew round, his eyebrows knotted and mouth open, fighting the urge to ask or answer but with a fever clearly building inside. His solicitor saw the look and was uncomfortably aware that there was something he knew nothing about.
    ‘What information is it that you seek, DS Narey? I may need time to speak to my client alone.’
    Narey bent down so that her face was just an inch from Wylde’s. ‘What’s her name?’
    ‘No comm—’
    ‘I said what’s her name?’
    Wylde screwed his eyes up as if to shut Narey out. ‘What’s this about?’
    ‘What’s her name?’
    ‘DS Narey. I insist you do not continue to repeat questions in my client’s face.’
    Wylde exhaled heavily. ‘You probably mean Kirsty.’
    ‘Probably? How many girls have got your name tattooed on their backs?’
    ‘Just the one that I know of. Kirsty McAndrew.’
    Narey stood up and backed away from Wylde, giving him a moment of breathing space. She swapped glances with Addison, who continued to stand there silently.
    ‘Would you describe Kirsty for me, please, Robert.’
    Wylde looked at the duty solicitor, who in turn stared at Narey, doubtless trying to second-guess her motives. He nodded at Wylde. Answer.
    ‘She’s twenty-two. Blonde hair. Um, blue eyes. Pretty. About five feet four.’
    Both Narey and Addison felt the need to turn towards each other and share something, but resisted. It wasn’t yet time.
    ‘Okay, Robert. Good. When did you last see her?’
    ‘Two weeks ago. We split up. What’s this about?’
    Wylde turned to his lawyer but Malcolmson was way ahead of him and was probably already counting future earnings. He gave Wylde the briefest of nods and said nothing. Narey continued.
    ‘Who dumped who?’
    ‘She . . . We . . . Well, it was just time to call it a day.’
    ‘So she dumped you, Robert. Couldn’t have been nice. Mad at her, were you?’
    Wylde was still trying to do his best to keep his face impassive but Narey could see the uncertainty and alarm that was eating away at him from behind the mask. She just needed to give him a final kick over the edge.
    ‘How angry were you at her, Robert? Angry enough to have killed her?’
    Wylde’s jaw dropped open and he made useless attempts to form words, his lips closing and retracting but never meeting. He finally managed one word. ‘What?’
    ‘Kirsty McAndrew was found murdered this morning.’
    ‘No. No. That can’t be . . . No. And you think that I . . .? No. No way!’
    Wylde stood, kicking his chair back and swinging his handcuffed wrists in front of him. Addison and Murray calmly walked round the desk, one fronting him up while the other grabbed him by the collar and forced him down into the chair, which was positioned underneath him again. Wylde slumped back down, his mouth again jabbering the same silent song as before.
    His eyes were on the floor now. Narey let him be for a moment, then, taking advantage of Wylde’s preoccupation with the floor, looked to Addison for an opinion. She got a shrug and a frown that said maybe. And maybe not. She continued.
    ‘Mr Wylde, when did you last see Kirsty McAndrew?’
    ‘Two . . . two weeks ago. I told you. Two weeks ago.’
    ‘Where were you last night?’
    ‘At my flat. And out for a bit. Had things to do. I didn’t . . . I didn’t do that to her. No way did I do