‘So you’re pretty busy right now, then?’

Clarke came to a halt and sighed into the phone. ‘Of course you’re not just calling for a catch-up.’

‘Well, that too, of course.’

‘But?’ At the far end of the corridor, a door opened and Christine Esson’s head appeared. Clarke signalled that she would only be a minute.

‘Do you remember working a misper case four years back?’ Rebus was saying. ‘Man named Jack Oram. Lived in Craigmillar, owned a pool hall.’

‘One of Big Ger Cafferty’s men,’ Clarke acknowledged. ‘We did what we could until we started hitting brick walls.’

‘Any chance of a look at the file?’

‘Why?’ She lifted a hand to her forehead and started rubbing it. Only John bloody Rebus could induce a headache so quickly.

‘I’m just interested.’

‘You’re also a civilian – which means the answer is no.’

‘Talk me through it, then. Maybe over a drink or a meal. I still owe you for what you did during COVID.’

‘I took Brillo for walks and delivered some groceries. It wasn’t exactly onerous.’ When she glanced up, it was no longer Christine Esson’s head at the door of the interview room but Michael Leckie’s. ‘I’ve really got to go, John.’

‘Does that mean you’ll think about it?’

‘It means goodbye.’

‘Hang on, there’s something else. Oram’s son. I think he’s maybe not unknown to Police Scotland. Maybe add him as a postscript?’

‘Goodbye, John.’

Clarke ended the call and dropped her phone back into her bag. She made her apologies as she entered the room. Esson had set up the recording equipment. Clarke looked everywhere but at Francis Haggard as she took her seat and composed herself. He was slouching in his chair, almost horizontal, elbows leaning on its arms.

‘My client would like to thank you for seeing us at such short notice,’ Michael Leckie said.

‘We’re always available to hear a full and contrite confession,’ Esson commented. Finally Clarke’s eyes met Haggard’s.

‘They’ve talked to you, haven’t they?’ he said. ‘The brass, I mean?’

Clarke kept any emotion out of her voice and her face. ‘Whether they have or not has no bearing on this case.’

‘We both know that’s a lie, DI Clarke. And the fact that they’ve been so quick off the mark tells me they’re rattled. They should be rattled, too, because once I start telling my story, the walls come tumbling down.’

‘Frankly I doubt you’re that important.’