‘He’s blaming the job for the way he changed. Maybe he’s got a point. I’ve no idea if he’s planning to name names.’

‘Trust me, he is.’

‘He’ll do what he has to do.’

Clarke gave a thin smile. ‘Are your colleagues managing to be as phlegmatic as you about it?’

‘Dunno – I’d have to look up “phlegmatic” first.’

‘Oh, I think you know what it means. Any chance we can see his locker?’

‘I don’t see why not.’

‘Opened, I meant.’

‘That’ll require a search warrant.’

‘He’s absconded, Rob.’

‘Maybe he has and maybe he hasn’t. Depends if he realises he’s broken his bail conditions. Guy’s in a heightened emotional state, his head’s out of the game.’

‘You seem to know a lot about it.’

Driscoll’s phone was buzzing, alerting him to an incoming call. He checked the screen.

‘Take that if you need to,’ Clarke said, but he shook his head and waited for the caller to give up.

‘I know Francis,’ he said. ‘As I told you, he’s one of my very best buds. And he does love Cheryl to bits, I promise you.’

‘So you’d reach out to help him, maybe even cover for him? That’s what mates do, isn’t it, especially at Tynecastle? And maybe in turn he’d keep your name out of things …’ Her voice tailed off. She’d been trying not to think about her own relationship with Rebus – trying and failing.

‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’ Driscoll looked from Clarke to Esson and back again.

‘Your accent’s not local,’ Clarke commented.

‘Neither is yours.’

‘I grew up south of the border.’

‘And I grew up north of the border – just a different border.’

‘Northern Ireland.’ Clarke nodded her understanding. ‘Driscoll’s a Catholic name?’

‘So?’

‘So what nickname did you get given?’

‘It’s all perfectly innocent, DI Clarke.’

‘Just banter?’ Esson interrupted.

‘That’s right.’

‘If you hear from Francis, tell him he’d be wise to come see us,’ Clarke said. ‘Meantime, who else should we be talking to?’

‘Nobody’s going to tell you anything.’

‘Closing ranks, eh? Might not serve you so well these days as it has in the past. Try contacting him, will you? Tell him he needs to come in.’

‘If you like.’

‘We’ve just been to his home, actually,’ Esson said. ‘Someone had kicked the door in, made a real old mess.’

‘Our lawless capital,’ Driscoll echoed.

‘Rather than take anything, though, they left something.’

‘What?’

‘Cocaine, spilled all over the floor.’

‘What a waste – and I keep being told it’s in short supply.’

‘Funny way for mates to behave, isn’t it?’ Clarke asked.

Driscoll stared at her. ‘You think we did it?’ He gave a snort. ‘Why?’

‘A shot across his bows?’ Clarke speculated.