Hannah manoeuvred the hearse through traffic on Lothian Road. She wouldn’t normally drive in the centre of town but it was the easiest way between Morningside and Trinity. When Mum had given her the list of Charlotte Cross’s rental properties she’d run through it with the map on her phone, ordered the eight flats so she could make it between them efficiently. She’d been to seven over the last few hours and she was bone tired. This was donkeywork but she had to do it, Gran was still recovering at home and Mum was chasing the ill widow case.
She should be back at the house with Indy after what she’d been through. Hannah shivered as she remembered the decomposed remains of Giva and Pratik in their mud-stained coffins, Esha and Ravi’s faces as they stared at the flesh hanging off bones, the mushy stew of decay that the bodies had become. Ravi had burst into tears. Maybe he’d been silently waiting for that moment the whole trip. In contrast Esha stood stoically, fingers touching the edge of her son’s coffin as if she needed to be connected to the world.
The truth was Hannah hadn’t volunteered for this driving job out of obligation. Her half-sister was missing, her fuckwad dad was still out there, and one of these properties could give them a lead. She’d imagined walking up to one of the flats, ringing the doorbell and Craig answering. She would smack him with a fist so hard he would fly through the apartment and break the wall at the back, as if Hannah had superhero strength.
But all the visits had been prosaic. Cross Holdings rented to students, part of a colossal moneymaking scheme in Edinburgh, accommodation sprouting up everywhere, an easy way to coin it in. Hannah had rung doorbells, pressed buzzers, doorstepped a cross-section of student life. Someone just getting out of bed or coming from the shower, or zoned out on their phones. She was the same age as them but felt much older. She spun the ring on her finger as she turned into East Fettes Avenue, thought about Indy saying they should get married straight away. She loved the idea but how could they get married in the middle of this?
She remembered being parked in this road two years ago, stalking the lecturer she suspected of killing her friend Mel. So many ghosts in this city. She turned into Ferry Road then left past the bigger houses of Trinity. She eventually hit Starbank Road, the sea in front of her, the old harbours of Granton and Newhaven either side. She found number twenty-seven and pulled in, the hearse getting a double-take from an old woman hirpling along the pavement. Not your time yet, dear.
She got out with a deep breath. This was the last one on the list. She knew she was just ruling stuff out but she couldn’t stop her chest beginning to flutter. What if he was here? But he was more likely on one of Seb Anster’s estates across the country. If he’d stayed in Edinburgh someone would’ve spotted him.
She pressed the buzzer, four names alongside, standard student set-up.
‘Hello?’
‘Hi, this is Hannah Waverley, I work for Cross Holdings, can I come up?’
Hesitation, maybe thinking about the mess of the flat, shit, here was the landlord. Eventually she got buzzed in, went to the top floor. There was a small window in the stairwell looking out to the sea. The door opened and a teenage woman stood there in baggy sweatshirt and large glasses. Hannah’s heart sank. What was she expecting, her dad with his hands out waiting to be handcuffed and taken into custody?
Hannah put on a beam and stuck her hand out. She was wearing a smart skirt and blouse she’d nabbed from Indy, young professional look.
‘Hannah.’
‘Misha. Is something wrong?’
‘Not at all,’ Hannah said, lifting the iPad she’d brought with her. ‘This is just a routine check. I was in the area and thought I’d pop by.’
Misha frowned. ‘You have to give notice before inspecting the place.’
Hannah shook her head, still grinning. ‘Nothing like that, we just want to check everything’s OK in the flat, you don’t have any issues?’
‘We’ve been paying the rent.’
Students were right to be suspicious of landlords.
‘I meant anything that needs dealing with in the property.’
Misha relaxed a little. ‘I don’t think so. There was mould in the bathroom but your guy fixed the fan, it’s all good.’
Hannah touched the iPad screen. ‘That’s great. And you are Misha…’
She let her finger hover.
‘Flood.’
‘Flood, that’s right. Can you confirm the other tenants’ names, just so we’re up to date?’
Misha rattled off three more names. Hannah nodded and pretended to care.
‘And can you just confirm the contact info you have for us?’
Misha took out her phone, scrolled, read out the email, office and mobile numbers Hannah had already heard seven times.
‘What about this other number I have?’ Misha said.
‘Other number?’
Misha nodded. ‘It’s a landline. Your boss said to try it one weekend we had a boiler problem. Said she couldn’t get mobile reception there.’
Hannah felt something in her chest. ‘Can you read it out?’
Hannah typed as Misha said the numbers. This was something.
‘That’s just for emergencies,’ she said.
‘I never used it.’
‘Did Ms Cross say where the landline was for?’
Misha took a step forward and pointed a thumb out the stairwell window at the sea. ‘The East Neuk, I think. Said she had a holiday home there.’
Hannah stared out of the window at the brown slab of the Forth, the thin smudge of Fife in the distance, and wondered about that holiday home.