Maclure had a gentleness about him that was all warmth and ease, which reminded him of Ava. The two of them would get on like a house on fire, Callanach thought. Maclure would be the perfect foil to her stresses, and Maclure would like Ava’s natural intelligence, passion and empathy. Neither was the least bit bothered by social structure or setting out to impress. They did their jobs only to serve. Ava would like him.

As soon as the thought crossed Callanach’s mind, another part of him objected. Ava meeting a man she might be drawn to would mean sharing her again, and Callanach had been looking to spend more time with her. While he’d been going out with Selina, it had been hard to invest in his friendship with Ava. Their evenings out watching old movies at the cinema, and eating and drinking at the city’s lesser-known treasures, had kept him sane while he’d been settling into life in Scotland. He wasn’t ready to let anyone else do those things with Ava yet. At least he could admit it to himself. More than that, Ava’s private life was none of his business. He had no idea why he’d been thinking about her in the context of finding her a partner.

Tripp was handing over an email address for Maclure to send the notes relating to Stephen Berry and offering thanks for his assistance. Callanach stood up and shook his hand, noting the lack of wedding ring, and wishing he could erase the image of Ava and Rune Maclure together.

Callanach and Tripp made their way to the door, leaving Maclure to get back to work. As they were climbing into the car, there was a tap at the window. Tripp opened up.

‘I meant to ask,’ Maclure said. ‘Would you let me know when the funeral is? I’m not sure how much social contact Stephen had. I’d like to pay my respects. He should have people there to say goodbye to him.’

‘That’s very thoughtful of you,’ Callanach replied. ‘I’ll make sure you’re notified, although it might not be for some time. There will have to be a fatal accident enquiry first.’

‘You’re not clear about what happened, then?’ Maclure asked.

‘Not yet. There are no witnesses and the forensics are difficult to interpret.’ Callanach chose the most vague phrase he could.

‘Poor Stephen. Still no peace for him. He was even mocked while he was contemplating suicide from the bridge. Can you believe some people? I worry about the human race.’

‘Sorry, he was mocked how and by whom?’ Callanach asked.

‘There was a man in the crowd, laughing, while Stephen was struggling to get himself safe. The police officers were nearer than me. I’m not sure who it was. I could hear but not see who was responsible.’