There were maybe five people in the office, all dressed in black as if they were already in mourning. A girl of no more than eighteen greeted her by the front door and asked if she could help them.

‘I’m hoping to speak to Mr Cairns,’ Narey told her.

‘Do you have an appointment?’

By way of answer, she held up her warrant card. ‘I don’t but it’s urgent. Is he in?’

The girl paled and lost all composure. ‘I’m not . . . I don’t think so. He was . . . let me check with Mr McCormack.’

‘Okay. We’ll come with you.’

‘I should . . . well, um, of course.’

She led them towards the back of the room where two inner offices had been created by frosted black walls. She knocked on the door of one of them and a man’s voice called for her to enter. The assistant opened the door and Narey followed her inside before she had the chance to close it, Maxwell taking her cue and slipping inside with her. Flustered, the girl tried to explain but Narey cut her off.

‘Mr McCormack? I’m DI Narey of Police Scotland, this is DC Maxwell. Could we have a word, please? In private.’

Consternation clouded the man’s face and he instinctively got out of his seat. He was in his mid-thirties, six foot tall with fair hair and dressed in a black suit and dark grey shirt and tie.

‘What’s happened? I mean, yes, of course. Chloe, could you leave us, please? Unless, do either of you want anything? Water? Tea or coffee?’

‘No, thank you.’

McCormack nodded and the girl closed the door behind her.

‘What is it, DI . . . Sorry, I don’t . . .’

‘Narey. I was hoping to speak to your partner. Is Mr Cairns in the building?’

‘No, he’s . . . Is it about Jennifer? It is, isn’t it?’

‘I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to say, Mr McCormack. I need to—’

‘Jesus. Have you found her? He’ll be so happy. This has been . . .’ He stopped short, reading the sombre look on Narey’s face.

‘Do you know where Mr Cairns is, sir?’

‘Is she dead?’

‘Mr McCormack, I’m sorry but I really am not able to tell you anything. Where can I find your partner?’

The man didn’t seem to know whether to be angry or sad. ‘He’s gone to see a client then he’s heading straight home. Why can’t you just tell me? She and Douglas are my friends as well as him being my partner. Christ, why didn’t you call ahead? You missed him by less than an hour. He needs to know now, whatever it is.’

The truth was she’d wanted to turn up unannounced. It wasn’t that she suspected the husband but she wouldn’t rule it out. Always look close to home, Johnny Jackson had taught her. She wanted to see the man’s reaction without him being prepared for it. Heartless maybe but policing was a practical business.

‘I have his home address and we can go there now. How long is his meeting likely to take?’

McCormack scrambled at his sleeve to look at his watch. ‘I’d think he’d be home in about an hour, maybe slightly less. Let me call him and tell him to meet you.’

‘No! I must ask you not to do that, sir. I need to speak to Mr Cairns personally and it will be far from helpful if someone talks to him first, particularly without access to the facts.’

The man’s eyes challenged her but not for long. He sat back in his black-leather chair and held his head in his hands before looking up again.

‘Okay, Detective Inspector, I won’t. But please, go easy on him. He’s not been himself at all since Jen disappeared and I’m not sure how much more he can take. If he comes across as . . . well, maybe confrontational, then forgive him. He’s really not like that.’

‘In what way has he not been himself?’

McCormack hesitated, seemingly reluctant to say any more.

‘Anything you can tell me will allow us to be better informed when talking to Mr Cairns.’

He gave a heavy sigh. ‘He’s been drinking. It’s understandable given what he’s been through but I think he’s been hitting it pretty hard. He’s normally very easy-going but lately . . . well he’s been short-tempered, argumentative. It’s really not what he’s like.’

‘Has he talked much about what he thinks happened to his wife?’

A change came across McCormack’s face and he got to his feet. ‘I’m sorry but I think I’ve said enough. You won’t tell me what’s happened and yet you’re trying to pump me for information about my partner. I’m not going to give you that. Not until you’ve spoken to him and not until I have to.’

Narey nodded. ‘Fine. I respect that. Thanks for your time, Mr McCormack. And please, do not phone Mr Cairns. I’d have to regard it as obstructing a police officer and that wouldn’t be helpful for anyone.’

Narey knocked, Maxwell beside her, and waited for Douglas Cairns to answer. It struck her that perhaps he’d been waiting on that knock for nearly seven weeks.

The door pulled back and she saw the man immediately work out what she was and why she was there. He hadn’t been tipped off by McCormack though: this was the shock of the expected.

He was in his early fifties, a dark beard turned silver at the chin and more flecks of age through his shoulder-length hair. With bleary, stressed eyes, he looked like he hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in those seven weeks and she doubted that he’d get one tonight.

‘Mr Cairns?’

‘You’ve found her. She’s dead, isn’t she?’

‘May we come inside, sir?’

‘Is she dead? Tell me!’

She deliberated and decided the kinder thing was to tell him there and then. ‘Yes, sir. She is. I’m sorry. I do think we should go inside.’

The man stared at the ground at his feet, seeing nothing. He slowly lifted his head and nodded without being able to look at them. ‘Come in.’

They followed the man into the large apartment on South Frederick Street on the corner of George Square. He led them into an expansive, modernist, open-plan room with three huge arched windows on the far wall. It was very different to the A-listed traditional stone exterior but maybe not that surprising given that Cairns was an architect.

The man slumped into a seat and stared into space some more. Narey and Maxwell took seats opposite him without waiting to be asked and gave him the time he needed. Once or twice his head came up and he looked at them as if ready to ask questions but didn’t dare.

‘Mr Cairns, I know this is difficult but I need to tell you what happened to your wife. And I will need to ask you some questions. Is that okay?’

He nodded dumbly.

‘A woman’s body was found yesterday in a city centre building not far from here. We have made dental comparisons against your wife’s records and they confirm that it is her. We shall make further tests but we have no doubt that it is your wife.’

‘What happened to her? What building? I don’t understand.’

‘Your wife suffered severe head injuries. As yet, we don’t know for sure how they came about. The building was the former Odeon cinema on Renfield Street. A workman found her body. It had evidently been there for some time.’

She watched his reaction, seeing his head swing from side to side and his forehead crease. ‘I don’t understand what you’re saying. The Odeon? But that’s been closed for years. What are you talking about?’

‘Yes, sir. It was due to be demolished. Do you have any idea at all why your wife would have been there?’

He became angry. ‘What? No! None whatsoever. This doesn’t make any sense.’

Narey glanced at Maxwell and she took the hint, speaking for the first time since they’d gone inside.

‘Mr Cairns, would you mind telling us the circumstances of your wife going missing? We know you’ve made a report but it would be helpful if you could tell us in your own words what happened.’

‘I’ve told your people all this already! Who did this to her?’

‘Please, Mr Cairns,’ Maxwell persisted. ‘It will help us to hear it from you.’

He just looked back at her for a while as if not understanding, pulling at his beard and rubbing fiercely at the silver on his chin. He jumped from his seat and went to an oak sideboard where he poured himself a large whisky from a decanter and took a mouthful. Then, seemingly calmer, he sat down again.