‘Think about your heart,’ yelled McCormack. ‘You’re not supposed to get overexcited.’

‘Over excited, she can count herself lucky if I don’t go off like a bloody Exocet missile.’

McCormack reached out and grabbed the detective by the hand. ‘Bob, please, I’m saying this for you, calm down.’

Valentine looked at his hand, held tight in McCormack’s, and jerked it away. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her to touch him, but that he was shocked by the sentiment, the obvious concern on show.

‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you,’ said McCormack.

‘It’s not that. I’m just more used to my warnings being shouted at me.’

‘Shouting isn’t going to solve anything.’

‘That sounds like something I’d say to you.’ He leaned against the wall and tugged at his tie, unbuttoned his collar. ‘Look at me, getting all worked up.’

‘You’re the one that also told me Dino doesn’t take confrontation well. I’m thinking about the case, too.’

‘I’m sorry, Sylvia, I know everyone’s put a lot of work in, it’s just that you and I both know Sandra Millar didn’t kill Tulloch.’

A brisk nod. ‘It suits Dino, though, helps her clean-up rate and keeps the army sweet, avoids a whole bunch of trouble.’

‘Ah, well …’

McCormack stepped back, steadied herself on the banister. ‘Oh, Christ, you haven’t told her about Phil and Ally’s informant, have you?’

‘I was going to do it today, after we’d seen Brogan. I didn’t bloody well expect her to call a press conference the moment I stepped out the office.’

She rolled her gaze to the ceiling. ‘Oh, God, it’s going to be worse than I thought.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Just keep my back, all right?’

‘I’ve always got your back.’

The DI proceeded to the chief super’s office, his jaw clenched tight. There was a burning sensation rising from his stomach into his chest, like he’d tried to swallow something bitter, impossible to digest. As he reached the door and eyed the brassy nameplate, he halted and drew breath. His breathing was heavy now, he tried to find a steady pattern but it was impossible.

‘Want me to knock?’ said McCormack.

Valentine shook his head, raised his fist to the door, however before he got a chance to knock he heard peals of laughter on the other side – it was enough to prompt him to grab the handle and enter unannounced.

‘Oh, hello, Bob.’ CS Martin managed to attain her most smarmy demeanour in only three words. She didn’t rise from behind her desk.

As Valentine gazed around the office he saw Major Rutherford sitting in front of Martin, a glass of something was perched on his knee, the ice inside rattled annoyingly. Eddy Harris sat nearby, looking a lot cockier than when Valentine had left him with a list of chores this morning. As the DI caught Harris’s glare he nodded and spoke, raised a glass. ‘Hello, Bob.’

Valentine withdrew his gaze but didn’t reply, instead he approached the chief super’s desk and leaned into her face. ‘Sorry to interrupt your wee soirée but I think we should have a talk, in private.’

Martin’s smile grew. ‘I’m presuming you caught the lunchtime news, Bob.’

‘You’ve made a very big mistake. Sandra Millar never killed anyone.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong, Bob, we have the forensic evidence.’ She reached for a blue folder on the edge of her desk. ‘Read it and weep.’

‘I don’t care what it says, she didn’t do it.’

Martin snatched back the folder, ‘Look, the boffins found blood and tissue beneath the knife’s handle, and some of it’s Tulloch’s. And they’ve successfully matched a partial print from the same handle to Sandra Millar, that sounds like a closed case to me, Bob.’

‘Some of it? Are you saying Sandra Millar’s isn’t the only DNA on there?’

‘It’s enough to convict.’

‘Well, maybe that’s so, but I have specific evidence tying Tulloch to another suspect and testimony of police malpractice that I’d really like to raise with you in private, now, if you please.’

Martin’s face changed shape, the smile slipped away. She peered over Valentine’s shoulder towards DS McCormack. ‘Are you in on this, Sylvia?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘I had you down for a smart lassie as well,’ said Martin. ‘That doesn’t require a reply … And neither does your statement, Bob. Now, what exactly are you on about?’

Valentine pushed himself off the desk and addressed the others in the room too. ‘If that’s the way you want it then fine by me. It’s probably better these two hear what I’ve learnt about them face to face anyway.’

Rutherford spoke: ‘What’s he saying?’

‘Oh, come on, Tom,’ said Valentine. ‘You didn’t really think that I wouldn’t find out about Tulloch and Finnie’s discharge in such shady circumstances …’

Rutherford leaned forward, placed his glass on the desk but didn’t speak.

Valentine turned to Martin. ‘Alleged rape and murder of a civilian whilst on tour in Helmand Province, Afghanistan.’

‘Not proven, I hasten to add,’ said Rutherford.

‘But presumably proven beyond the reasonable doubts of the regiment’s top brass who punted them onto civvie street in a flash.’

CS Martin interrupted, ‘What’s all this about, Tom?’

‘It’s nothing, a silly coincidence.’

‘It’s no coincidence that Finnie registered complaints with us about Tulloch’s stalking. Followed him around like a man with a grudge, even took a job in the same nightclub and picked a fight with him.’ Valentine was enjoying watching Rutherford’s reaction.

‘Is this true?’ said Martin.

‘Well, there’s truth and there’s stretching the actualité,’ said Rutherford.

Martin got out of her seat and walked to the other side of the desk. ‘Is this true? Did you kick them out of the army after a civilian rape and murder investigation?’

‘Well, that might, strictly speaking, be true but don’t you see it’s how he’s dressing it up?’

Valentine replied, ‘Major, I’m a police officer, my strong suit isn’t dressing things up. You must be confusing me with our friends on the press, who I’m sure will be able to embroider the actualité without my assistance.’

‘Oh, bloody hell,’ said Martin. She turned to Valentine. ‘And try not to sound so bloody smug about it, Bob. I can’t believe you’re just coming to me with this now, you must have known beforehand.’

‘They were very serious allegations, I had to have them verified.’ Valentine watched Harris sink further into his seat, he seemed to be wishing himself somewhere else. ‘A bit like the police malpractice, I mentioned. Yes, you’d do well to squirm, Eddy. You see, DI Harris has been taking back-handers from Norrie Leask for some time.’

‘Now wait a minute,’ said Harris.

‘Shut up, Eddy,’ said Martin, ‘let him finish.’

‘You see, Eddy here has been ferreting away a nice little bundle from the very same club where both Tulloch and Finnie worked and where he has himself been investigating a very interesting robbery.’

‘What’s the Meat Hangers got to do with the murders?’ said Martin.

‘Maybe Eddy can enlighten us, since he’s been on Norrie Leask’s payroll for such a long time.’

‘Where did you get this bullshit?’ said Harris.

‘I wouldn’t call it bullshit,’ said Valentine. ‘We have an employee ready to testify.’

‘Who?’

‘Kyle Brogan.’

Harris tutted. ‘Don’t make me laugh, bungling Brogan’s a scrote, what court’s going to believe him?’

Valentine knew Brogan was the weak link in the case, he withdrew himself to the rim of the desk and folded his arms. ‘Normally I would agree, Eddy. But, you see, when you have the accountant’s ledger too and the accountant deciphering the list of payments made to you from Leask I’d say that strengthens my hand a little.’

Martin spoke up, she addressed no one in particular. ‘Is this true?’

‘Yes, chief, it’s true,’ said McCormack. ‘I interviewed the accountant, a Mr Bullough, who has operated from premises in Barns Street for more than twenty years. He’s ready to testify for us, too.’