Corstorphine took up the slack. “Any idea what animal it was?”

“How am I meant to know? The way it’s been carved, it could be from anything.”

Corstorphine nodded. “What do you do with your bones, William, once you’ve taken the meat and joints off?”

“There’s a collection every week. The waste company provides us with wheelie bins for all the waste.”

“Where do you keep the bins?” Frankie focussed in on the specifics.

“Side passage. There’s a locked gate to the road. We wheel the bin out for collection on a Thursday.”

“Have you noticed anyone going through your bins, or has the gate been tampered with recently?”

“What’s this about?”

“Just answer the question, William.” Corstorphine checked his watch, he had to hurry this along.

“No to both. Anyone destitute enough to rake through bins would check the supermarket waste. There’s nae joy to be had in a butchers bin.” He smiled as if he’d just said something amusing.

“What were your movements two weeks ago, William? Have you been anywhere near the laird’s estate in Glen Mhor?” Corstorphine fixed him with a laser-sharp stare.

“What, me go anywhere near his estate? You have to be joking! I’ve kept as far away from that bastard as I can – and Oscar, he’s bad news.”

“Did you want him dead, William?” Frankie asked quietly.

He glared at her, angry at the implied accusation. “I didn’t kill him, Frankie, if that’s where you’re going with this. Oscar…” He sat there, looking like the lost boy he was. “Oscar was a mad bastard, and he could be cruel – but he was my mate.” His voice dropped to almost a whisper. “He was one of the few mates I ever had. I’d never kill him.”

“Can you provide any evidence of your movements during the last two weeks, William? Anyone who can verify where you were, what you were doing?” Corstorphine pressed on.

“I’ve been working in my shop every day except Sunday, from eight to six every day. I don’t take enough to pay for any help so it’s just me. Most evenings when the shop is closed, I’m sorting out the cuts, making the mince, sausages and pies. I go home most days around ten, collapse in front of the TV and then go to bed before starting the same thing all over again. Sunday is the only day I get off, and I’ve spent every Sunday for the last few months with this girl in Fort William. Do you want her number?” William spoke defiantly, issuing a challenge which Corstorphine readily accepted.

“Yes, please. Write her details on this sheet and we’ll be in touch to verify your statement. What about the minister of St Cuthbert’s, have you ever been to the church?”