‘Yes and no. It appears she was pretty freaked at the body’s discovery and is uncontactable by mobile, and the other women don’t know her address.’

Having reached the car, McNab made his way swiftly towards the driver’s door, just in case Janice was considering taking the wheel again. However, Janice seemed unperturbed by his move, and opened the door on the passenger side.

‘So,’ McNab said, once safely in his seat of choice, ‘you’ve got someone looking for the address?’

‘Yes.’

McNab started the engine with a smile. He was feeling good about all of this, including being back in charge of the car.

‘So where is Father Feeney residing now?’ Janice said.

‘Father Joseph Feeney, aka Declan Walsh, left the priesthood ten years ago. He now lives in a flat in the West End of Glasgow and is aware of our forthcoming visit,’ McNab said.

‘You spoke to him?’

‘He called us on the number given on the TV appeal, although Ollie had already located his whereabouts prior to that.’

‘Do we know anything about him over the time between then and now?’

‘According to Ollie’s trawl, Father Feeney was transferred to a diocese in Belfast after the Mary McIntyre case, where he served until he decided to leave the priesthood. Why he did that, we don’t know.’

‘Well, we can always ask,’ Janice said in her usual forthright manner.

McNab hadn’t been strictly accurate about not knowing any more than he’d told Janice. It was just that Ollie couldn’t confirm the other stuff he’d told McNab, so it could of course be online porkies, and McNab preferred to carry his cards close to his chest anyway.

Having a partner on the job was fine, even good at times (all that stuff about having your back), but it wasn’t that different from personal relationships. Better to keep a few secrets.

Father Feeney now lived in the converted former Notre Dame Chapel in Victoria Crescent. McNab chose not to mention this, interested as he was to see Janice’s expression once they arrived.

He wasn’t disappointed.

‘He lives in a former chapel?’

‘Once a priest, always a priest?’ McNab said. ‘Pretty impressive and expensive surroundings.’

‘I thought priests didn’t earn any money?’ Janice said.

‘You’re right, plus they’re not meant to leave or retire. After all, they made a solemn promise to God.’

‘You’re very knowledgeable about all of this,’ Janice said, somewhat sarcastically, McNab thought.

‘I did some research before we came.’

McNab drew into a parking space just short of the gated entrance to the chapel and its associated former school buildings, also now converted into luxury flats.

Auto-locking the car, he headed for the entrance, Janice following.

The buzzer to the right of the metal gate had the flat numbers but no names. When McNab chose the one he’d been given, a voice swiftly answered.

‘Who is it?’

‘DS McNab and DS Clark, here to speak to Declan Walsh,’ McNab said.

‘Very good. Come on up. The pedestrian gate’s open. Use the steps by the underground parking. Our entrance is there.’