When Greg had told Malcolm how Stratton had suggested he might well turn up at the ceilidh, since he was a local, Malcolm had been circumspect about it. ‘We’ll deal with that if or when it happens. One thing’s certain. They won’t get to spoil our evening. We’ve waited too long for this.’

Sending Caroline through to Karla in the kitchen to check if she needed any help, Malcolm asked if Joanne was coming.

‘She said she’d maybe take a walk down later,’ Greg told him.

In truth, he was almost hoping she wouldn’t since that would likely keep Caroline sweet. Then again, if she was here and Stratton did arrive, he might be able to deduce whether they were acquainted or not. Unless, of course, they were intent on keeping that a secret.

As the place began to fill up, he tried to put that thought out of his mind. Folk were subdued at first. That much was obvious. Bar the recent community council meeting, which had turned into what was commonly known as a stramash, the folk of Blackrig hadn’t had a gathering like this for a very long time.

As the drink flowed and the band played, people began to relax, which, as Greg registered, was a joy to behold.

Once he was certain that everyone likely to come was there, Malcolm said a few words to the assembled group along the lines of how dealing with the pandemic had only been possible because they’d all worked together and supported one another.

He remembered those who they’d lost, including his wife, Mairi. There were a few mutterings about the Party House, but it was clear from those who shooshed them that tonight was for celebration and not recriminations.

Greg began to enjoy himself, thinking this might go okay, provided the subject of the police investigation didn’t come up. It seemed that everyone was avoiding it, in particular the men, like him, who’d been interviewed that day.

It appeared they all wanted to forget about it, for tonight at least. As did Greg. Last time they’d all been at one another’s throats and there was still plenty of time for that to happen again. But, Greg mouthed a silent prayer, let it not be this night.

He’d stayed clear of the drink just in case anything should kick off, although he’d noticed that Caroline had had a few. As the music started up again, he had just decided that he might have one to celebrate getting this far without trouble, when he noticed a face observing him from the link door between the bar and the hotel lounge.

It seemed DI Snyder was keeping an eye on the proceedings. Or perhaps on him in particular. Was it because of his interview earlier or had his DNA swab found a match?