‘Classic alibi technique,’ Fox said nonchalantly. ‘Make it look as though you couldn’t have known he was dead. I’ve seen it before, maybe you have too – after all, you’re a cop.’

‘Fuck you, DI Fox.’

Susan Jones decided it was time to intervene. ‘Is my client being charged with anything, or is this just a fishing expedition?’

‘Oh, it’s a lot more than that, Ms Jones,’ Clarke answered. ‘The procurator fiscal is very interested in Rob here. Very interested.’

‘We’d like to examine your client’s phone,’ Fox added. ‘Phones plural if he has more than one – plus his home and work com­puters. We also have CCTV evidence from the Newhaven break-in, so it might be that PC Driscoll is required for an identity parade.’

‘I was nowhere near the flat,’ Driscoll growled. ‘Is this you trying to fit me up?’

Fox studied him for a moment. ‘Now you know how Tony Barlow must have felt.’

‘Are you a detective or a bloody archaeologist?’

‘Probably a bit of both. It’s amazing how often history can come back to haunt those involved.’

‘I’d like to consult with my client,’ Jones stated, needing the gaps in her knowledge filled in.

‘Knock yourself out,’ Fox said, closing his folder. In the hallway, he turned to face Clarke. ‘I don’t suppose we’ve grounds to hold him.’

‘Not really, not yet at least. But who the hell’s Tony Barlow?’

‘Misidentified as a paedophile, given summary justice by the Crew, headed by Driscoll under orders from Fleck.’ Fox gestured towards the MIT office. ‘Another coffee?’

‘You get started, I’ll catch you up.’

She turned the handle and pulled open the door to IV1. Tommy Oram was up on his feet, pacing the floor, under the watchful eye of a uniform from downstairs. He stopped and looked at Clarke.

‘Off you go then,’ she said. ‘But be warned that you might be hearing from us again. And if there’s anything you think we should know …’

‘Half my bloody day wasted,’ Oram said, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. ‘Thank you very bloody much.’

‘I’m sure your employer will be sympathetic. If he isn’t, send him along and I’ll have a word with him. Saves us summoning him ourselves.’

21

Rebus recognised the passenger first. He tugged at one of the car’s rear doors and threw himself in. The two men in the front seats flinched and turned towards him.

‘All right, Alan?’ Rebus said to Fleck, reaching out to give the man’s shoulder a squeeze.

‘Rob,’ Fleck said to the man in the driver’s seat, ‘you remember John Rebus?’

‘Heading indoors, are we?’ Rebus pointed towards Leith police station, fifty yards further along the street.

‘Rob here’s already had his grilling,’ Fleck said. ‘It’s us oldies next, John, eh?’