“Holy fuck! The same bunch that have been convicted of child abuse all over the world? How did this happen under our noses? Someone must have been aware of what was going on? Get a list of everyone working at the orphanage, from the gardener through to the Mother fucking Superior – and find as many regular visitors to the orphanage as you can. Try social services, they might have taken over the records when the orphanage closed.”

Frankie passed Hamish on the way out. He was carrying an old notebook, the type that bobbies carried on the beat back in the 80s. She grabbed her coat; the council offices were the only place that might still hold any relevant information about the orphanage.

“Come in, Hamish, sit down.” Corstorphine ran his fingers through his hair. The day was lining up to be a marathon. “Take me through June Stevens’ case, from the top.”

“Well, sir, we had a call come in at…” The desk sergeant consulted his notebook, a yellow Post-it hanging from the page he opened, “10:27 am. The call came from the old public phone box on the main road just opposite the Glen Mhor turnoff. A young male hiker informed us that a woman’s body was hanging from the old oak on the Glen Mhor track – he sounded Australian.”

“Why didn’t he wait for the attending officer?”

“He was asked to wait until I arrived on the scene, but when I arrived at the call box at…” the notebook was consulted again, “11:02, the caller had gone. I didn’t spend time looking for him, thought in all probability it was a hoax. The local lads had a thing about impersonating Australians at the time.” He noticed Corstorphine’s eyebrow start to rise and hurriedly continued. “I drove the squad car down the track, taking it easy because of the suspension, and when I got to the tree I saw her hanging there. I tried to get her down but could only hold her up by her ankles, so I drove under the tree and climbed up and cut the rope.”

“You drove under the tree. Are you sure?”

Hamish looked worried. “Yes, sir. I thought there may be a chance she could still be saved, so I had to get her down on the ground to loosen the noose and perform CPR.” He looked down at the floor, speaking quietly. “I was too late, sir. She was dead.”

“When did the DI get there?”

“Detective Inspector Rankin arrived at 12:20, sir. I called him in on the radio after I’d tried to save her. I had to drive almost completely out of the glen before I was able to get a signal, not that it’s any better now.”

“What investigation did he do – whilst you were at the scene?”