‘No, but I just knew they would. I’m sorry. I just want to be left alone.’

‘And are you sure?’

‘No. It could be him, but no, I’m not at all sure.’

‘It might not be him?’

‘Maybe not.’

As Muirhead sat down, Sammy actually felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

The Depute and the Judge badgered him for a time but he could not tell them to which police station he had been taken, he had been given no names and could only give a vague description of the officers. In truth, he did not try very hard to remember. In truth, he no longer cared. As he walked out of the building wearing his new suit and clutching his carrier bags, he had decided it was time to join Betty. He had had enough.

The Advocate Depute asked the judge to adjourn for the day as he wished to consider this unexpected development. His motion was granted. Apart from any other considerations, Lord Cowden had had enough excitement for the time being.

As the court room was emptying, Morton turned to Muirhead.

‘Come on, James. How did you know all that?’

‘I told you Jack, I know what I’m about. Sorry about my mood earlier on.’

‘No problem, James. But why don’t I believe you?’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘That’s not what I mean and you know it.’

‘I hope you’re not suggesting I just took a flier and got lucky?’

‘You, James. Never!’

The first week of the trial of Her Majesty’s Advocate against Charles Gallagher had come to an end.

Chapter Seven

Bob Taylor was liked and respected by every officer who had ever worked under him. He was trusted by his superiors and the members of the Procurator Fiscal service. While his approach to his work, and indeed life in general, might seem easygoing, he was a conscientious detective who would work at a case until he was satisfied he had all the right answers.

If a case was going nowhere, he would tell his team to ‘guddle around a bit and see what comes up’. The team members knew that they were being told to go right back to the beginning and check everything in intimate detail. The notion that a case might not be solved was something he would never countenance.

‘A crime is like a crossword puzzle. Every answer is connected to another. Solve one clue and you get help with the next. Every puzzle can be completed: it just takes time and patience. The harder it is, the greater the satisfaction. Anyway, it’s good to lock the bastards up just when they think they’ve got away with it.’