“I don’t know, he sounded… strange. Get out of the fucking way!” A mobility scooter had frozen on the crossing before them, the driver staring at the patrol car in shock. Frankie gestured for him to move on out of the way, and they sat impatiently as the rider struggled to engage gear. By the time they reached the old DI’s house twenty minutes had elapsed and Corstorphine’s mind was not put at ease by the sight of Molly standing distraught in the road.

“It’s Brian. The garage. There was a shot!” Frankie caught Molly as her legs buckled under her, arms waving weakly towards the house. “Help him, James. Please. Oh God!”

Corstorphine tried the garage door, it was locked. The windows were grubby, covered in dust which he managed to partly clear with his sleeve. What he saw didn’t make him feel any better.

“Frankie. Get an ambulance here, fast!” Putting his shoulder to the door he threw himself against it. The whole building shook in response, but the door held. He took a run at the door and it finally burst open, Corstorphine almost falling over the old DI’s body as he flew into the garage. Brian Rankin wasn’t going to be giving a statement, not with the top of his head missing.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Corstorphine spoke the words loudly, precisely, clearly. He knelt down and lifted the gun out of the old detective’s slack fingers with a pen, dropping it carefully into an evidence bag. “Where did you get this from?” He didn’t expect a reply.

“Brian!” The scream of anguish came from the open door, Frankie holding onto Molly, pulling her back.

“There’s nothing we can do, Molly. I’m so sorry.”

Molly cut him short, her words like daggers. “What did you say to him, James? What have you done to make him do this to himself, to us? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?” Her voice broke into meaningless sounds, grief piling upon grief as she struggled to make sense of the blood and brains she’d seen spread over the garage floor and wall. She turned into Frankie, arms wrapped around her as if seeking a safe anchor in a world turned upside down.

Corstorphine reached out to comfort her, the gun in his hand still visible in its plastic bag. He withdrew and left her with Frankie. He was the last person she wanted to see.