‘Most of which might already have slipped through his fingers. He’s pals with the Mackenzies – did you know that? His ex, Stephanie, sometimes works for them, decorating their flats.’ Rebus remained silent. ‘You still there?’ Clarke eventually asked. ‘Listen, I’d better go. We’re starting to get traction regarding Haggard’s movements. How about you – not found your man yet?’

‘I’m not sure that was ever the point, Siobhan.’

She was asking him what he meant when he ended the call. He was thinking about the white car parked across from QC Lettings when he’d interrupted Marion’s lunch break. Tinted windows, meaning anyone could have been inside, up to and including James Pelham. Pelham: friend of the Mackenzies. Pelham: whose ex-wife was Francis Haggard’s sister-in-law. Rebus knew the man from newspaper stories and photographs taken at high-society events. He even thought he remembered Haggard joking about how he’d married into money. Not that he hadn’t married for love, too, but it didn’t do any harm to have a brother-in-law who could give you investment tips.

Had Francis Haggard had money to invest? Obviously, judging by his visible bank accounts. But the messy divorce had pitted the sisters against Pelham, meaning Haggard would have had to choose a side. Stood to reason he’d stand by Cheryl and Stephanie, meaning he’d have wanted his money out. But did Pelham still have enough in the bank to repay him?

If it turned out he didn’t, what would Haggard have done?

Rebus returned to his armchair and reached for his cigarettes. It took him a few moments to remember he’d stopped. His doctor had suggested chewing gum as a replacement.

‘I can never get the bits to catch light,’ Rebus had answered, after which his doctor, with a smile, had apologised for trying to keep him alive.

He was still allowed a drink, however, in that it had not as yet been strictly prohibited. He’d wandered down to the Oxford Bar a few times during lockdown, always finding the door bolted shut. It was open again now, though. Still a bit early, but so what? He needed to process everything he knew, half knew and suspected. A quiet corner table and a pint had always helped him in the past. But then he heard a pattering against the window and knew that the forecast rain had started. Sounded heavy, too. Brillo opened one eye, seemingly happy in the dry.

‘Okay, then,’ Rebus told the dog. Tea would have to do instead.

‘Are we working you too hard, lover boy?’