flat.â
I was standing outside number 19 Bell Place gulping water from a bottle Iâd got from Hamiltonâs driver. The sun was at its zenith and the heat was as big as it gets. A guard Land-Rover came round the corner at speed and screeched to a halt six inches from the guardianâs Jeep.
âWell parked, Davie,â I called.
âWhat are you doing here, Hume 253?â Hamilton asked, peering at the gap between the bumpers.
âGood morning, guardian,â Davie said, trying to pretend that his driving was beyond criticism. âI heard from the command centre that a body had been discovered.â He looked at me hopefully. âI thought you and citizen Dalrymple might need some help.â
âOh, you did, did you? So you drove down here like a madman and  . . .â The guardian finally took his gaze from the back end of his Jeep. âAnyway, what makes you think Citizen Dalrymple has any involvement in this case?â He glared at me. âYou wanted to know if this body was that of the missing Edlott winner. It isnât. Why are you still here?â
Typical Hamilton. For him, things were either black or white. Iâve always tended to operate in grey areas.
âLook,â I said, âthe missing guy will probably turn up with a hangover any time now. That poor sod over thereâs had his last hair of the dog and Iâm not convinced he just dropped dead on the river bank. Iâm your special investigator, for Godâs sake. Let me confirm this isnât a suspicious death.â
For a few moments it seemed Hamilton wasnât going to buy it, then he nodded reluctantly. âOh, very well. But I want you back on the Edlott case as soon as possible.â Before I could celebrate my minor victory his lower jaw jutted forward aggressively. âDonât think you can use any guard personnel you want, Dalrymple. In case itâs escaped your attention, Hume 253 is a guard commander and as such is subject to my orders.â
âI know,â I said, playing it cool. âThatâs why Iâm asking you to let him assist me here. Itâll mean I get things finished quicker.â
The guardian couldnât really argue with that. âNow I suppose Iâm going to have to rearrange the watch commandersâ rota,â he grumbled, looking round for a minion to bawl out.
I led Davie up the steps to the dead manâs front door. âNext time pull up further away from his precious Jeep,â I suggested.
âDid I hit it?â Davie demanded. âDid I?â
âCalm down.â I handed him a pair of rubber gloves and led him inside. Scene-of-crime people were already at work finger-printing and taking photographs.
âNot bad,â Davie said, taking in the living room and separate kitchen from the hall. âYou could have a whole family in here.â
âYes, you could.â I put in a call to the Housing Directorate and discovered that Thomson, Francis Dee, had lived here on his own for fourteen months. They werenât able to tell me why he hadnât been allocated single-citizen accommodation. It may simply have been that the bureaucracy had fouled up.
âRight, where do we start?â Davie said, going into the living room.
âYou know the drill by now, guardsman.â
âConfirm ID, collate forensic evidence, list personal belongings  . . .â
âAll right, smartarse. Iâll take the table, you take the rest.â
âDone.â
Although there was the usual range of Supply Directorate furniture in the room, Iâd actually given Davie the easy bit. It looked like almost all of Frankie Thomsonâs worldly possessions were on the table that stood under the front window â papers, dirty cups, old copies of the Edinburgh Guardian , a pair of socks with holes in the toes and a darning needle stuck through them, a couple of well-thumbed Ngaio Marsh novels.
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