A voice spoke her name.

So it was him. He was here.

52

Robbie – or Robert – didn’t look as good as the last time they’d met. In fact he looked terrible. McNab realized he was gazing at a mirror image of himself when he’d last been on a bender, which he was glad to say had been some time ago.

‘So someone killed the old bastard,’ Robbie said. ‘And not before time. How did the fucker die? I hope it wasn’t quick?’

‘Where were you last night?’ McNab said.

‘With my partner, having too much to drink, as you can tell from my demeanour. Can’t hold it the way I could when I was younger.’

‘So you have an alibi,’ McNab said. ‘Just like the one you supplied for Alec McLaughlin forty-five years ago.’

Robbie’s face shifted through a series of emotions.

‘Why did you do that? Protect McLaughlin?’ McNab said.

Robbie came back at him immediately. ‘I told the truth. McLaughlin didn’t take Mary. He couldn’t have. He was a creep, but he had no access to a vehicle. The priest did. Father Feeney had a van, owned by the parish. That van was at the chapel. Mary was at the chapel and she disappeared from there.’

‘So Alec didn’t see you having sex with a male in the woods?’

Robbie stared at him, then shrugged his shoulders. ‘It wouldn’t matter if he had. He was there so he didn’t take Mary.’

‘This guy you were with?’

‘I told McCreadie where I was and who I was with. He wasn’t a suspect.’

It couldn’t have been easy back then to give McLaughlin that alibi, knowing that McLaughlin could well report Robbie for what he’d been witness to. Robbie had been a minor at the time, which had made what he was doing doubly illegal in the Scotland of 1975.

Robbie had told McCreadie the truth back then, even though it had been dangerous for him to do so. So why would he lie now?

‘Okay,’ McNab said. ‘Write down the full details of where you were last night and who saw you there, and sign it.’

As he rose to go, he felt his mobile vibrate in his pocket. Without reaching for it, he said, ‘One more thing. What do you remember about Eric Jackson?’

‘Eric who?’ Robbie said.

‘Eleanor Marshall’s boyfriend at the time.’

Robbie looked lost by the request. ‘Eleanor had loads of guys after her. She was a looker. I don’t remember any of their names.’

McNab left Robbie to it, fairly certain he’d had nothing to do with dispatching McLaughlin. Once outside, he checked his mobile to find a missed call from the man he’d just been talking about. Smart McCreadie.

Did he have time for Mr Fiction to pump him for some more police info, or alternatively to be handed a small clue at a time of J. D. Smart’s choosing?

McNab swithered and then came down on the side of any further information being always welcome, whoever it came from.