‘His ma? How did they know it was her? How did they know where to look?’

‘They were told. A wee fella who was brought along that night to help McMullen bury the body has terminal cancer. Said it was wrong what happened and he needed to get it off his chest. He gave a statement to the police. No one can do anything to him now, he said, he’s going to kick the bucket and he doesn’t give a shite who threatens him—’

‘But why did they do it?’ I interrupted.

‘He didn’t really know. Said McMullen had told him she was out of control and posing a problem for the organisation. But he seemed to think it was personal. Maybe she’d had an affair and the da found her out.

‘There’s a relative in Glasgow, an old woman now, who says that before McGee’s ma went missing she called her up from Belfast and said she was coming to Scotland with the two boys. Then she never did. The oul doll said she told the police about it years ago but nothing came of it, the ma was just noted as missing. Sure everything was going crazy back then.’

‘Did McMullen admit it?’

‘Nope, denies it all. But the forensics confirmed that it’s definitely the ma all right. After all those years in there. The stuff they can find out these days is incredible—’ Marty broke off for a second to contemplate the sheer science of it – ‘And the other guy gave a full statement so they’ve got that.’

‘What does the da say?’

‘Can’t say anything, he’s in the nursing home, totally banjaxed, doesn’t even know what day it is now. The older son goes up to visit him every other Saturday.’

‘They told everyone she’d run off to Scotland,’ I said.

In those days full of smoke and rage no one really questioned rumours of a solo flight.

‘Aye,’ said Marty, going back to unpacking the boxes. He took a pair of scissors and sliced decisively through a strip of parcel tape. ‘Some Scotland.’

I went upstairs to get a breath of air. This news, after all these years, had stunned me. I thought of McGee tied up down there on that chair, a grown man still imagining the ma had walked out on him when all the time she was stiff in the grey cold quarry, entombed in that industrial grave. The sun was shining very brightly and it strained my eyes and made a seam of pain dance jerkily behind them.

I shouted down: ‘Marty I’m just going for a dander’ and then I started walking.