Outside, the Saab was parked twenty yards further up Arden Street. As Rebus walked towards it, a car came towards him, heading in the opposite direction. White Audi, driver’s window lowered. He recognised the face behind the wheel. Andrew, Cafferty’s lackey, actually smiled as he passed. Straight away, Rebus knew why. The Saab’s boot stood gaping, Rebus obviously not the only person in Edinburgh skilled with a crowbar. The emptied interior gave him the blankest of stares. He cursed, turning his head to where the Audi was making a right turn onto Warrender Park Road. Still cursing, he slammed the boot shut, but it sprang open again. He tried once more, with the same result.

‘Outstanding,’ he muttered to himself, climbing into the driver’s seat and checking, as suspected, that he had no visibility at all in the rear-view mirror. He started the engine anyway. He reckoned the Audi would head for Melville Drive, but would it then turn left or right? At the junction, he peered in both directions, but couldn’t see any white cars. Had Andrew driven up Marchmont Road instead? There were too many possibilities – and he was expected at the Moorfoot.

When his phone buzzed, he checked the screen and then answered.

‘Bit busy here, Siobhan,’ he announced.

‘I just thought you’d want to know we got someone for Francis Haggard’s murder.’

‘Chris Agnew?’

‘No, though he was having an affair with Stephanie Pelham, so you weren’t too wide of the mark.’

‘Who then?’

‘Stephanie’d had a one-night stand with Francis. He was threatening to go public. She stood to lose everything. He stuck a note on her windscreen, threw a stone at her window to alert her.’

The words were pouring out of her. Rebus remembered the feeling well. When you got a result, there was always someone you needed to tell.

‘So off she went to meet him,’ Clarke ran on, ‘taking a knife from the kitchen.’

‘Premeditated, then?’

‘Her team will try arguing otherwise, but the procurator fiscal seems fairly confident.’

‘And all the Tynecastle stuff?’

‘Turns out not to have been a factor, meaning it goes back in the vaults, luckily for some.’

‘Which counts as a result for Police Scotland, too. No embarrassing skeletons tumbling from closets. Is Fox pissed off?’

‘He reckons he still might get his day, if the walls at Tynecastle keep crumbling.’ She paused, tale told. Rebus reckoned the next stage would be a sleepless exhaustion. ‘So what are you up to?’ she asked. ‘You sound like you’re in the car.’

‘Just a bit restless, you know how it is. Thought a night drive might help.’ He glanced in his mirror and was rewarded with a view of the flapping boot. ‘I had Cafferty on the phone earlier, unhappy that I’d grassed him up to you.’

‘Probably not relevant now, if it ever was.’

‘Probably not,’ Rebus made show of agreeing.