The boss, like Rhona, had an ability to suss out a lie, or even a half-truth, much like a bloodhound catching a scent. McNab suspected DI Wilson had already caught a suspicious smell and was currently pursuing it, and he, McNab, was on the trail he was following.

When he didn’t immediately answer, DI Wilson said, ‘Rumour has it that our stab victim has been collected from the hospital and not by us. Is this correct?’

‘It is, sir,’ McNab said after a moment’s hesitation.

‘Would you like to fill me in on what’s happened, Detective Sergeant, or shall I believe the reports I’ve had?’

McNab found himself clearing his throat like a recalcitrant schoolboy.

‘I arrived at the hospital to pick McArthur up, sir,’ he said. ‘He’d been sent to the discharge lounge. When I got there, he’d signed himself out.’

There was a moment’s silence that seemed to last an eternity to McNab.

‘You missed out the bit where you were late, and the officer on duty had been recalled, since you were definitely going to be there. He checked McArthur into the discharge lounge for safety’s sake and reported back to the station.’ The boss paused here like the calm before the storm. ‘Where the hell were you, Detective Sergeant?’

At this point McNab decided honesty wasn’t the best policy. ‘I slept in, sir.’ Even as he gave his weak excuse, he was squirming at the recall of what he had actually been doing.

The boss’s steely stare suggested he didn’t believe him. As DI Wilson opened his mouth to make this plain, McNab decided to come clean, in as minimal a way as possible.

‘Ellie was there,’ McNab muttered under his breath. He hurried on, ‘And I lost track of the time, sir. Sorry, sir.’

DI Wilson was regarded as mild-mannered. That was not strictly true. His outward manner was not gung-ho, but underneath there was a steel which McNab both admired and would have liked to emulate. In truth, DI Wilson had been a substitute father to him within the force and was the sole reason why he’d not yet been chucked out on the streets to find another profession.

A short silence followed McNab’s confession, which he hoped was a good thing.

‘And just where were you planning to put McArthur if you had collected him from the hospital?’ his mentor said, changing the subject, much to McNab’s relief.

A number of fibs presented themselves to McNab at that moment, all of which he managed to avoid uttering.

‘Where, Sergeant?’

‘Ellie knew him already, sir. She offered him a place to stay, with support from social services,’ he added, as though it made the arrangement okay.