Murder in Court Three by Ian Simpson

career, which has already suffered because of you. You probably don’t care much about that, but the less he has to lose, the less we bother about the impact of our inquiries on you. If you had sex with Mr Knox in Court Three and left him alive, it would be in everyone’s interests if you told us what you can. Please reconsider.’
    Mrs Traynor began to shake her head before Flick had finished. ‘You’re all so predictable. Now get out.’ She rose and led the way to the front door.
    As the door slammed shut, the officers made their way to the car, Flick trying to conceal her fury.
    â€˜I wonder what the atmosphere in that house is like. Do they have children, boss?’ di Falco asked as they exited the driveway.
    â€˜One, a boy born four months after the wedding. He’ll be fourteen now.’
    â€˜There wasn’t much evidence of him around the house. I didn’t even see a photograph.’
    â€˜I saw in the file that he’s at some fancy boarding school. Her family has money.’
    â€˜I wonder what their sex life is like.’
    Flick glanced at him, wrinkled her nose then smiled. ‘Non-existent or bizarre, I would have thought. Better not go there.’

8

    The spell of good weather continued to make Edinburgh untypically warm. ‘Too hot’ was a phrase on many citizens’ lips. It made Baggo think nostalgically of Mumbai. Only Edinburgh was far less crowded than either Mumbai or London. He appreciated the space. As he headed for the Canny Man’s along grey streets strewn with short-lived blossom he felt alive and stimulated. This was a city he had imagined as being permanently cold, lashed by winds off the North Sea. In the balmy evening air it lived up to its claim to be the Athens of the North. The weather had taken him by surprise. That week he had bought long-sleeved summer shirts and trousers and wished he had a Fedora or Panama hat so he could strut about like a gentleman. He pulled the visor of his golf cap down. The lower part of his face was still regrettably brown after the golf.
    But this was a stimulating investigation. He had enjoyed meeting the Lord Provost. The physically unimposing, soft-spoken little man, well into his sixties, had beamed when Baggo had told him how much he was enjoying his stay. But he had not been able to help the investigation. On Friday he had not sat next to either of the Traynors and remembered nothing of their movements, while his wife, who had sat next to Graeme Traynor and discussed roses with him, had forgotten her distance glasses and observed nothing.
    â€˜Sorry!’ a man shouted from behind a hedge as Baggo caught the spray of a misdirected garden hose.
    â€˜Do not worry,’ Baggo replied, hoping the stain down one leg of his cream chinos would dry before he reached the pub.
    Cutting his pace, he replayed the phone conversation with Flick as she drove back to Fife. After describing her own day, she had told him about Wallace and McKellar’s interview with the Secretary of State, a man with a reputation for womanising. A political advisor and two civil servants present, he had denied any recollection of the Traynors on Friday night, despite being seated between Lynda Traynor and the Lord Provost’s wife. ‘If he’d been an ordinary punter they’d have jogged his memory at a police station,’ Flick had commented. The politician’s wife had been no more helpful.
    â€˜Are you going to question the Chief Superintendent?’ Baggo had asked.
    â€˜Not yet. Spider Gilsland hasn’t found anything helpful on the CCTV but I want to have a good look at it. Also, I got Knox’s laptop and mobile from Fettes and I’ll give them to Spider when I get to Cupar. Dr MacGregor took the arrow out at the PM and the lab has had it since this morning. I’m still waiting to hear if there are any fingerprints on it. The Edinburgh SOCOs took some prints from the court and I have