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flat.”
    I was standing outside number 19 Bell Place gulping water from a bottle I’d got from Hamilton’s 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 guardian’s Jeep.
    â€œWell parked, Davie,” I called.
    â€œWhat are you doing here, Hume 253?” Hamilton asked, peering at the gap between the bumpers.
    â€œGood morning, guardian,” Davie said, trying to pretend that his driving was beyond criticism. “I heard from the command centre that a body had been discovered.” He looked at me hopefully. “I thought you and citizen Dalrymple might need some help.”
    â€œOh, you did, did you? So you drove down here like a madman and  . . .” The guardian finally took his gaze from the back end of his Jeep. “Anyway, what makes you think Citizen Dalrymple has any involvement in this case?” He glared at me. “You wanted to know if this body was that of the missing Edlott winner. It isn’t. Why are you still here?”
    Typical Hamilton. For him, things were either black or white. I’ve always tended to operate in grey areas.
    â€œLook,” I said, “the missing guy will probably turn up with a hangover any time now. That poor sod over there’s had his last hair of the dog and I’m not convinced he just dropped dead on the river bank. I’m your special investigator, for God’s sake. Let me confirm this isn’t a suspicious death.”
    For a few moments it seemed Hamilton wasn’t going to buy it, then he nodded reluctantly. “Oh, very well. But I want you back on the Edlott case as soon as possible.” Before I could celebrate my minor victory his lower jaw jutted forward aggressively. “Don’t think you can use any guard personnel you want, Dalrymple. In case it’s escaped your attention, Hume 253 is a guard commander and as such is subject to my orders.”
    â€œI know,” I said, playing it cool. “That’s why I’m asking you to let him assist me here. It’ll mean I get things finished quicker.”
    The guardian couldn’t really argue with that. “Now I suppose I’m going to have to rearrange the watch commanders’ rota,” he grumbled, looking round for a minion to bawl out.
    I led Davie up the steps to the dead man’s front door. “Next time pull up further away from his precious Jeep,” I suggested.
    â€œDid I hit it?” Davie demanded. “Did I?”
    â€œCalm down.” 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.
    â€œNot bad,” Davie said, taking in the living room and separate kitchen from the hall. “You could have a whole family in here.”
    â€œYes, you could.” 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 weren’t able to tell me why he hadn’t been allocated single-citizen accommodation. It may simply have been that the bureaucracy had fouled up.
    â€œRight, where do we start?” Davie said, going into the living room.
    â€œYou know the drill by now, guardsman.”
    â€œConfirm ID, collate forensic evidence, list personal belongings  . . .”
    â€œAll right, smartarse. I’ll take the table, you take the rest.”
    â€œDone.”
    Although there was the usual range of Supply Directorate furniture in the room, I’d actually given Davie the easy bit. It looked like almost all of Frankie Thomson’s worldly possessions were on the table that stood under the front window – 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.