He shook his head. ‘Naw. I didnae go up there that night. Too frightened to move for the wind. And Lucifer was in here with me.’

‘When was the last time you heard the . . . shenanigans?’ McNab found himself saying.

‘A couple of days before the fire.’

‘Do you know who owns or rents the flat?’

‘Naw. But folk come and go regularly. I thought at first it was a druggie place – you know, where they buy the stuff – but there’s been no syringes or nothing about the close, and no weird smells, except for the flat across the landing from it. Ah think they’re on the wacky baccy.’

‘Did you tell this to any of the officers taking statements?’

‘Och, naw. Ah saved it up for you, son.’ He smiled. ‘Maybe get you a promotion, eh?’

I’ve already been there and done that, McNab thought. His time as a detective inspector hadn’t lasted very long. He rose to go.

‘Oh, you’re off, are you?’ Jimmy looked disappointed. ‘Will you come back if I remember anything else?’

McNab handed him a card. ‘Call me if you do.’

He was well aware that the old boy was lonely, and talking to the police about that night might have been his only contact with the outside world for God knows how long.

Heading up the stairs, he wondered if he was destined to end his days like Jimmy Donaldson. Sitting in his flat alone – he definitely wouldn’t be having a cat – not knowing any neighbours. Hey, he didn’t know any of his neighbours now, he realized. What would happen to him if he didn’t have the job to hang on to, the company of his workmates to rely on?

Reaching the door of the so-called wacky baccy brigade, he pushed such thoughts away and rang the bell. After a minute or two he heard footsteps approach the door, followed by silence, when no doubt his ID was being examined through the peephole. Eventually the door swung open and he was confronted by a bearded bloke wearing a T-shirt and shorts.

Since the storm, the weather had brightened, they’d even been blessed with some sunshine, but weather for shorts? McNab didn’t think so.

Jimmy had said the place stank of weed. McNab made a point of taking a deep and obvious breath in. As he did so, the guy’s face took on a worried look.

‘Can I help you, officer?’

McNab took a couple more sniffs, and wrinkled his nose, causing more consternation. Finally he said, ‘The neighbouring flat.’ He gestured towards the crime scene tape.

The relief on the guy’s face at what he saw as a change of direction was obvious. ‘Yes?’ he said eagerly.

‘There’ve been reports of noises from the flat of a sexual nature.’