‘Did you fall over, Mick?’

‘I get dizzy sometimes.’

‘What does the doctor say?’

‘Eh?’

No doctor consulted. ‘You know there are hostels, you don’t need to be out here.’

‘Full up. I hate queueing, so I’m always at the back. Your concern has been noted by Michael Edward Hine. Now, do you want to hear the story?’

‘In your own time.’

‘I knew Lenny in prison, we shared a cell for maybe four months. He was the quiet type, thoughtful. I know he’d been in trouble before, and yet he didn’t fit with prison life. He taught me how to do crosswords, sort out all the jumbled letters. He was patient with me.’ Hine seemed to be drifting off, but pulled himself back. ‘The man he wrote about is the man he was. He told me himself, he’d done wickedness and never been punished for it. But that didn’t make it any easier on his soul, being punished for a crime he didn’t commit. Time and again he told me, “I didn’t do it, Mick, I swear to God and anybody else who’s up there.” It was an obsession with him. I think if he hadn’t had his writing, he might have done away with himself sooner.’

‘You don’t think he was got at?’

Hine thought it over before shaking his head firmly. ‘I believe he took his own life. That last day, it was like he’d come to a decision, made peace with himself. He was calmer, almost serene. But his eyes … he wouldn’t look at me. It was like he couldn’t deal with people any more. He talked, but he was conversing with himself. I liked him such a lot. And his writing was beautiful …’

‘The last day?’ Rebus prompted. Jack was peering through the railings at the hospital.

‘The last day,’ Hine repeated. ‘That last day was the most spiritual of my life. I really felt touched by … grace.’

‘Lovely girl,’ Jack muttered. Hine didn’t hear him.

‘You know what his last words were?’ Hine closed his eyes, remembering. ‘ “God knows I’m innocent, Mick, but I’m so tired of saying it over and over.”’

Rebus was fidgeting. He wanted to be flippant, ironic, his usual self – but now he found he could identify all too easily with Spaven’s epitaph; even perhaps – just a little – with the man himself. Had Lawson Geddes really blinded him? Rebus hardly knew Spaven at all, yet had helped put him in jail for murder, breaching rules and regulations in the process, aiding a man who was feverish with hatred, spellbound by revenge.

But revenge for what?

‘When I heard he’d cut his throat, it didn’t surprise me. He’d been stroking his neck all day.’ Hine leaned forward suddenly, his voice rising. ‘And to his dying day he insisted you set him up! You and your friend!’

Jack turned towards the bench, ready for trouble. But Rebus wasn’t worried.

‘Look at me and tell me you didn’t!’ Hine spat. ‘He was the best friend I ever had, the kindest, gentlest man. All gone now, all gone …’ Hine held his head in his hands and wept.