McLaughlin looked as though he expected a response to that statement. When none came, he continued his story. ‘McCreadie’s a famous crime writer now, name of J. D. Smart.’ He smiled again. ‘I’ve read his books. They’re excellent, especially the one in which I feature – or a poorly disguised version of me.’

Magnus was at a loss as to how to respond to any of this. What McLaughlin had said about his place in the Mary McIntyre story was a revelation. As was the J. D. Smart connection. What Magnus didn’t understand was why he was being told all of this.

‘McCreadie was already writing fiction, even back then,’ Alec said. ‘And it’s not only me who could tell you that. Problem is, most of the folk involved will be dead, so who’s going to tell the truth?’

He looked sorrowful at that, or maybe just sorry for himself, Magnus couldn’t tell which.

‘If you’re looking for advice,’ Magnus finally said, ‘then I suggest I put you in touch with one of the detectives I’ve worked with and trust, and you could tell him what you know, before . . .’ He halted, wondering how exactly to put this.

‘Before they come for me,’ McLaughlin finished for him.

17

In the grave, her colour had become one with the soil in which she’d lain. A process similar to tanning had made the soft tissue leathery and hard, the skin discoloured to a brownish hue. In many ways what had taken place in the bog was probably more akin to chemical preservation by embalming, rather than mummification which involved drying or desiccation.

The partially reddened hair was a result, according to the pathologist Dr Richie Walker, of the acid in the peat, which had bleached out the original colour and dyed it via the iron in the soil, giving it the colour spoken of in the Seamus Heaney poem.

Since the victim was a child, Dr Walker was being assisted at the post-mortem by a corroborating pathologist trained in paediatric pathology. Dr Catriona Wang wasn’t that much taller than the child they were examining, making Dr Walker’s height even more pronounced.

Dr Wang had introduced herself to Rhona with a wide smile. ‘We haven’t met in person before, Dr MacLeod, but I am familiar with your work.’ Her quiet yet melodious voice reminded Rhona of a songbird, and the hands encased in gloves appeared as delicate as wings.

‘Please call me Rhona. I assume you’re on first-name terms with Richie too?’

‘I am, although had Dr Sissons been here, such familiarity with Dr Walker wouldn’t of course have been allowed.’

Rhona and Richie exchanged amused looks.

‘I see you’re familiar with Dr Sissons’s ways.’

‘I haven’t been here long, but I learned the protocol right away.’

With Dr Sissons missing from the equation, the post-mortem had already taken on a different tone. Dr Walker was as respectful and thorough as Dr Sissons when working with the dead, but sarcasm definitely wasn’t his thing. In Rhona’s opinion, adding in a female forensic pathologist improved things even further. She suspected Richie felt the same.