McNab considered how much of the story he should give her. Eventually he said, ‘One, he’s a wee shite. Two, he’s not clever.’

‘You know him, then?’

McNab sucked air between his teeth. ‘He almost got me killed when I was in a supposed safe house in London, after I was shot.’

‘You’ve never mentioned him before?’

‘If I listed every arsehole that’s pissed me off, you would have demanded not to be my partner.’

‘I’ve thought about it for less,’ Janice conceded. ‘Does the boss know you’re sworn enemies?’

McNab didn’t know, since he’d never reported on Cleverly’s actions. He’d just abandoned the safe house and gone into hiding on his own volition, until it was time to give evidence in court.

‘It wouldn’t stop him giving me the job, even if he did,’ McNab said. ‘The boss doesn’t do vendettas.’

Janice didn’t say ‘unlike you’. What she did say was, ‘So time to let bygones be bygones?’

McNab smiled in reply. ‘I’m off to speak to Ollie. See what else we’ve learned about Ms Newton Richardson, in preparation for my phone call to DI Cleverly.’

That wouldn’t be the only question he planned to pose, McNab thought, as he headed in the direction of the IT department.

He was in the cafeteria stocking up on goodies for Ollie when his mobile rang. The screen gave him nothing but a London number, but McNab guessed who it would be.

He left the goodies on the counter, motioned he had to answer this call before he could pay for them, then took himself off into a corner.

‘DS McNab here,’ he said.

The pause that followed was long enough for him to wonder whether Cleverly had actually been given his name as the contact in Glasgow. And if so, had he recognized it?

Eventually the response came. ‘DI Cleverly here from the Met.’

The tone suggested he either didn’t recall McNab’s name or he was being studiously neutral on the subject. McNab remained silent.

‘It’s about the possible self-immolation case . . .’

McNab continued to wait. If information was to be given out, it would not be by him. Besides, he hadn’t yet seen Ollie to be brought up to date.

‘And the possibility that the victim might be one Olivia Newton Richardson of—’ Cleverly quoted an address.

‘So what have you got?’ McNab said.

‘Nothing as yet. We’ve just begun enquiries.’

This time the intervening silence lasted even longer, before Cleverly finally said, ‘We’ll be in touch, Detective Sergeant.’

And that was it.

Grasping a can of sugar-free Irn-Bru and a packet of mixed nuts, McNab found himself pining for the days of sugared ring doughnuts, now apparently banned by Ollie’s recently acquired girlfriend, Maria.

Still, you were the one that introduced them, he reminded himself. So you only have yourself to blame.