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she looked
back at them pleased.
    ‘Shit!’ MacRae
was coming towards her but she was too engrossed in her explanation
to care.
    ‘The chemical
reaction absorbed the majority of oxygen in the atmosphere so the
fire...’
    ‘Watch
out!’
    MacRae pulled
her down the stairs and into the relative shelter of the archway as
a section of ceiling gave way.
    Rhona would
have apologised if he’d given her the chance but as soon as the
noise of the falling debris stopped MacRae headed for the entrance.
MacFarlane shot her a look that suggested it would be better to
keep her mouth shut and followed MacRae outside, where he was
already dishing out orders. ‘We need a scaffolding gantry before we
put a full team in. No one, I repeat no one is to go back in there
until we’re sure of the ceiling. And MacFarlane, this is an old
building. I bet most of the joists survived the fire. I’d like a
proper look at them once the debris is cleared.’
    MacFarlane
moved off towards the police tent, throwing Rhona an encouraging
look as he left.
    ‘So what do we
do now?’ she asked MacRae.
    ‘I wait until
they make it safe.’
    Rhona ignored
the singular pronoun.
    ‘How long will
that take?’
    His voice was
clipped. ‘Twenty four hours maybe more.’
    She held up the
sample bag. ‘I’ll send this to the lab. Get them to check for an
agent.’
    ‘Suit
yourself.’ He turned away.
    ‘You think it
was petrol?’
    ‘I know it
was.’
    ‘You can’t be
sure until it’s tested.’
    ‘Look
lady...’
    ‘My name’s
Rhona.’
    ‘You play
around with your chemical reactions all you like. That fire didn’t
just happen. Someone made it happen and that someone made it big
and powerful enough to blow a young girl halfway across Princes
Street.’
    The Big Issue
seller from Waverley was hovering on the edge of their
conversation. An Alsatian stood alert beside him, looking like a
police dog awaiting a command. On their right, MacFarlane emerged
from the operations tent a mobile held to his face.
    ‘MacFarlane!’
    In broad
daylight, MacFarlane looked worse than Rhona felt and she realised
he had probably been up all night.
    ‘Who’s the
guy?’ MacRae motioned behind him.
    ‘Where?’ The
DI’s tiredness was turning to stupidity.
    ‘With the
dog.’
    ‘Oh him. Name’s
Jaz. He knew the victim. That’s her dog. He ran off with it, then
changed his mind and came back. He offered to identify the body for
us, while we try and find her family.’
    MacRae turned.
‘Come here, son.’
    The guy
hesitated.
    ‘Does the dog
like chips?’
    ‘Salt and
sauce?’
    MacRae opened
the Saab door. He grabbed a chip poke from the passenger seat and
emptied its contents on the road.
    The dog looked
up at the boy.
    ‘Go on
Emps.’
    They watched as
the dog devoured the chips, licking up the sauce like a pro.
    ‘DI MacFarlane
here says you knew the girl.’
    ‘Karen didn’t
really know anybody. She liked to be alone, except for Emperor. I
spoke to her now and again. Offered her food. She never took it.
She wouldn’t beg either. She played the penny whistle for money.
Rose Street mainly,’ he paused. ‘She was good.’
    Rhona bent and
rubbed the dog’s ears.
    ‘Had Karen been
sleeping round behind the boarding?’ she asked.
    ‘I don’t know.
She could have been.’ He looked straight at Rhona. ‘You think
somebody started that fire deliberately, don’t you?’
    Rhona glanced
at MacRae but he said nothing.
    ‘We don’t know
that yet.’
    ‘That’s
murder.’ The boy’s voice was angry and the dog’s head came up, neck
hair bristling.
    ‘Have you seen
anyone hanging about the building?’ Rhona tried.
    He shook his
head.
    ‘We’ll be back
tomorrow. If you think of something you could speak to us
then.’
    The boy nodded
and walked away, the dog at his heels.
    MacRae was
climbing back into the car. She asked where he was going. It was
like a red rag to a bull.
    ‘You’re
beginning to sound like my ex-wife. Correction, my estranged