Rebus nodded. ‘Shinned up a drainpipe at the back of the building, threw the bags of cash down to his mates.’

‘I didn’t know.’ She blinked a few times, as if to digest the news.

‘You knew the story, though? The flat’s history?’

‘When Ger and me broke up, I stayed friends with some of his lads. They always liked to tell me things.’

‘Is that why you kept the wallpaper the way it was? If Cafferty ever had reason to see it, it would remind him?’

She considered for a moment, then took a deep breath. ‘I took Francis Haggard to look at the flat. He’d already told Fraser he was police, based at Tynecastle. I suppose it brought out the devil in me.’

‘You saw a chance to get Cafferty’s back up?’ Rebus watched her give a slow nod. ‘No love lost, eh? It’s some journey you’ve been on, Beth.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘From one gangster to another – no distance at all, really.’

‘The difference is,’ she said, baring her teeth, ‘one of them I made.’

‘Is that right?’

She had spun round and was starting to open the gym door.

‘Still got that photo on your phone?’ Rebus called out, causing her to pause. ‘Cafferty got rid of the print, denies ever having seen it. If you took it to Siobhan Clarke at Leith police station, told her you sent it to him, well, he’d have a bit of explaining to do. I mean, maybe you don’t want to cause him any additional grief …’ He gave an exaggerated shrug.

‘Siobhan Clarke?’ Beth checked, watching Rebus nod. Her hand went to the door handle again.

‘I saw Crosbie last night,’ Rebus added.

‘So?’

‘So the name obviously means something to you – interesting.’

Her head turned slowly towards him. ‘What’s interesting is that you think you’re smart. You’re really not. Crosbie works for Gaby, so of course I know him. I know lots of people, it comes with the territory.’

‘What else comes with the territory, Beth?’ But he ended up asking the question to a closed door, Mackenzie having disappeared inside. He stuffed his hands into his coat pockets and stared down at his feet.

One of them I made.

One of them I made.

He knew those words would stay on a loop inside his head on the drive back into town.

26

Clarke had left Laura Smith propped up in bed with tea and iPad, earbuds in. She had placed the spare key on the duvet and told her to take things easy.

‘Are you kidding? I’ve got enough media requests to keep me busy till doomsday.’

On her way to Leith and the MIT, she phoned Ronnie Ogilvie.

‘I’m getting the road traffic CCTV in an hour or two,’ he told her. ‘Is Laura okay to answer a few questions?’

‘You might find yourself in a queue.’