“Why didn’t you say at the time? It’s a bit bloody late to raise your suspicions now!” Corstorphine’s voice rose, his frustration of the case manifesting as anger.

“I didn’t realise it at the time, sir. When I found the body, I believed that the call must have been genuine and, with the DI’s report saying it was a suicide, I never had cause to doubt my own version of events. Having to revisit her death now, all these years later, I just see things differently, sir. Things I may have been too green to notice at the time. People were saying she was mad, the balance of her mind was in question, it all made some sort of sense back then. Now I think she was more frightened than mad.”

“OK, sergeant. I’m sorry I raised my voice – this case is starting to get to me. Can you ask around, see if there’s anyone still living or working here that used to visit the orphanage? It’s time to get some inside knowledge of what went on in that place.”

“Yes, sir. On it now.” The sergeant wheeled smartly around and left Corstorphine to his thoughts. This case was far from being solved by the close of the day; if anything, it was getting murkier by the minute.

Corstorphine stood in front of the crazy board, trying to process what Frankie and Hamish had told him. Oscar was capable of murder; he had no doubt of it – had the reporter found information about his past and was going to publish? Oscar wouldn’t have wanted anyone to know he’d been abused as a child, so he may have killed her just to shut her up. He would have been around twenty then, strong enough to overpower her. What was June Stevens doing in the glen if she wasn’t going there to kill herself? Corstorphine thought this was becoming less likely by the minute. Then there were the discrepancies in Hamish’s description of the scene and the old DI’s memories. If Hamish was able to drive under the tree, then there couldn’t have been the boulder she’d have needed in order to reach the noose – and dead people don’t clear up behind themselves. He hesitated, just for a brief second, then added DI Brian Rankin’s name to the board. There was something that just didn’t feel right about the investigation into the reporter’s apparent suicide. Why the old DI would have wanted to protect Oscar, though, that was a question he couldn’t even begin to answer.

Frankie called an old friend on the hands-free as she pulled into the council car park. “Hi, Susan? Yes, it’s me, Frankie. Yes, far too long. I’m here on official business, actually. Can you meet me at reception? I’m looking for any records you may have on the old orphanage on City Road, lists of the children staying there, staff – that sort of thing. Great. I’m here now, see you in a minute.”