He had been questioned for about three hours by two detective sergeants. No problem. They were getting nowhere and eventually walked out of the interview room for a time leaving him in the company of a uniformed constable. Charlie attempted to engage his watcher in conversation, but the uniform was filled by someone who was deaf, dumb, stupid or a combination of all three. Charlie was banging his head against a wall of silence. The opposition returned and went over the whole routine again. Everything was tape-recorded. No problem. The atmosphere had been professional but pleasant – almost cordial. Not exactly what he had expected – but no problem.

Again he was left alone with the dummy. This time Charlie chose to ignore him. That was certainly no problem and in any event his diamond-studded Rolex told him that the six hours were nearly up and he would soon be on his way home, or at least on to the nearest pub. Thirsty work answering all these daft questions. Job done, out of here couple of pints, no problem. Good night, good luck and cheerio to you all!

The two question masters returned to the interview room accompanied by a new suit who sat down while the others stood behind him. The tape-recorder was switched on.

‘My name is Detective Superintendent Grant McAllister and I am presently in interview room number two at London Road Police Office. I will now ask the others present to identify themselves.’

‘Detective Sergeant Ian Scott, Strathclyde Police CID.’

‘Detective Sergeant Leslie Walker, CID.’

The new suit nodded at Charlie.

‘We’ve done this bit. If you don’t know who I am by now, what are you doing here wasting my time and yours, Mr Detective Superintendent Grant McAllister Sir?’

‘For the record please, just a formality but a necessary one, I’m afraid, please state your name. Otherwise somebody might think that I was talking to an empty chair.’

Charlie ostentatiously looked at his watch.

‘In six minutes you will be.’

‘Your name, if you don’t mind.’

The tone was relaxed, again almost cordial. Charlie’s initial anxiety at being confronted by a new policeman, and a senior one at that, began to ease. He would play along. This guy obviously had some official spiel to deliver. Maybe he was even going to apologise for keeping him here so long. This was no problem. After all, he would be out of here very soon – in five minutes to be precise.

‘Charles Gallagher.’

‘Mr Gallagher, up till now you have been detained here in terms of the Criminal Procedure (Scotland) Act. I propose now to release you from that detention.’

‘About time too. Not that I mind helping you lot out, always happy to oblige, but basically I’ve got better things to do with my time, know what I mean? If you need me you know where to find me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I am out of here. Thank you!’