‘Just to be clear, who are we talking about?’

‘Maybe start with who you are and what you’re doing here.’ She folded her arms and tipped her head slightly to one side.

‘You’re Ishbel Oram, I recognise you from the photo.’

She narrowed her eyes. ‘What photo?’

‘Your wedding. You’ve hardly changed,’ Rebus lied. ‘And the reason I’m here is your husband, Jack. I’ve heard he’s back in town and I’d like a word.’

‘Back in town?’ Her eyebrows rose. ‘Who’s saying that?’

‘So you’ve not seen him?’

‘I don’t go to seances.’

‘You reckon he’s no longer with us?’

She stepped down from the doorway so she was level with Rebus. ‘A man called Cafferty had him done away with,’ she stated. ‘I didn’t used to think that, but I do now, though we have to wait three more years to make it official.’

‘Presumption of death, you mean?’ Rebus watched her nod. ‘What makes you so sure Cafferty’s to blame?’

‘Jack got on the wrong side of him – that’s something you don’t want to happen. Then there’s the envelope. Stuck through the letter box a few weeks past. No note, just five hundred quid. That’s got to be him, hasn’t it?’

Rebus thought of his own envelope, the sum probably identical. ‘Cafferty, you mean? Why not Jack himself?’

‘Dead men tend not to be earners.’

‘Why wait four years to send it?’

She considered this. ‘A guilty conscience sometimes takes a while.’ She peered at him. ‘What is it you wanted with Jack anyway?’

‘Your first instinct wasn’t far off – I used to be CID. There’s a bit of unfinished business from back in the day, and I thought Jack could help, so when I heard he’d been seen …’

‘Seen where?’

‘A lettings office on Lasswade Road.’

Her face grew quizzical. ‘Why would he be there?’ Rebus didn’t like to say: a fresh start, new identity, no family. ‘Anyway,’ she went on, ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you.’

‘So the person you thought I was here about …’

‘Is sweet FA to do with you, mister whoever you are.’ She began to retreat inside the house.

‘Thanks for the chat,’ Rebus said to the door as it closed. He walked to his car, thinking about the newspaper coverage of Jack Oram’s disappearance. Yes, a son had been mentioned, described as a school-leaver, making him sixteen or seventeen then, early twenties now.

What’s he done this time?

Well, yes, that was a good question.