‘Christine?’ she said into the phone. ‘We need to pick up Francis Haggard. He must have been watching Stephanie’s house. Probably saw me and Gina leave and his hackles went up. He forced his way in.’ She listened for a moment. ‘They’re both unharmed, but probably more than a bit shaken. Can you rouse a couple of uniforms and meet me at Haggard’s flat?’ She listened again. ‘No, I’m in Marchmont, so maybe twenty minutes.’ Her eyes met Rebus’s. ‘Yes, I’m at John’s. Just a social call. Twenty minutes, okay?’ She ended the call and stared at the beer cans. ‘Christ, am I even under the limit?’

‘I could give you a lift.’

‘You’ve been drinking too.’

‘But I’m a pensioner rather than a serving police detective – I’ve a lot less to lose.’

‘I can’t believe he’d do it. I really can’t even begin to …’

‘I’ll drop you there. Squad car can take you home or bring you back here.’

‘I can almost walk home from his flat.’

‘I thought Haggard lived down in Newhaven.’

Clarke looked at him. ‘He’s not in his own place. He’s renting on Constitution Street. But now I’m wondering why you would know where someone you claim not to know lives?’

‘Oops,’ Rebus said, sliding his arms into his jacket and picking up his car keys. ‘Maybe save that for later, eh?’

‘Just to be clear, you’re dropping me off and then leaving.’

‘Scout’s honour,’ Rebus said, ushering her to the door. As she preceded him, slinging her bag over her shoulder, he glanced back at the dining table. Yes, the Oram file was there, forgotten in all the drama.

He started whistling some blues as he took out his key and locked the door.

‘Town’s a mess,’ Rebus commented as roadworks steered him down yet another long-winded diversion.

‘This car’s not much better,’ Clarke said, studying her footwell.

‘If you’d rather walk, I can drop you here.’

She mimed zipping her lips closed, but opened them again a minute later. ‘Easter Road would have been quicker.’

Rebus took his eyes off the windscreen long enough to glare at her.

‘You don’t scare me the way you used to,’ she told him.

‘I’m rusty, that’s all.’

‘Did you hear about the shooting?’

‘No.’

‘Earlier today in Pilton. No casualties reported. Like you said – town’s a mess.’ She was lifted from her seat by a pothole Rebus hadn’t spotted. He cursed and focused on the road ahead. ‘So, Jack Oram,’ she said into the silence.

‘A spot of unfinished business, that’s all.’

‘Unless he’s dead, of course.’

Rebus allowed the point with a shrug. ‘I wasn’t lying about Francis Haggard,’ he said eventually. ‘I barely knew the guy.’

‘You did visit Tynecastle, though, watched the initiations?’

‘Just games, that’s all. Silly boys’ games.’