‘Did you know him?’
Willie wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘He was a few years older. Went to a different school. Not that it did him much good. Unemployed most of the time. Eventually the council gave him a job as a gardener. He was working the day he was supposed to have killed her.’
Sant glanced at his watch. Interesting though the conversation was, he couldn’t afford to engage in idle chatter. He half-finished his latte and pushed the mug to one side.
‘Aye, that Bird and Wormald set him up good and proper.’ The names were vaguely familiar to Sant. ‘They put words into his mouth. Convinced him he did it. The poor lad was mentally handicapped. Not badly so, but enough to leave him at the beck and call of those detectives. Cretins would be a better description. No offence, M
