‘Who’s Madeleine Smith?’ she asked as they climbed the stairs.

‘I got her name out of a book, I think she was a murderess.’

She gave Rebus a look which managed to be hard and amused at the same time.

‘This way,’ Rebus said. He led her to the Bible John room, where Jack was waiting. ‘Jack Morton,’ Rebus said, ‘Eve … I don’t know your last name. It’s not Toal, is it?’

‘Cudden,’ she said coldly.

‘Sit down, Ms Cudden.’

She sat down, reached into her bag for the black cigarettes. ‘Do you mind?’

‘Actually, there’s no smoking allowed,’ Jack said, sounding apologetic. ‘And neither Inspector Rebus nor myself are smokers.’

She looked at Rebus. ‘Since when?’

Rebus shrugged. ‘Where’s Stanley?’

‘He’ll be here. We thought it wise to leave separately.’

‘Uncle Joe won’t suspect?’

‘Well, that’s our problem, not yours. As far as Joe knows, Malky’s going out on the ran-dan, and I’m visiting a friend. She’s a good friend, she’ll not let on.’

Her tone told Rebus she’d used the friend before – other times, other assignations.

‘Well,’ he said, ‘I’m glad you arrived first. I wanted to have a private word.’ He rested against a desk, folded his arms to stop his hands shaking. ‘That night in the hotel, you were setting me up, yes?’

‘Tell me what you know.’

‘About you and Stanley?’

‘Malky.’ Her face creased. ‘I hate that nickname.’

‘OK then, Malky. What do I know? I know just about everything. The two of you head north every now and then on business for Uncle Joe. I’d guess you’re go-betweens. He needs people he can trust.’ He gave a twist to the last word. ‘People who won’t share their hotel bedroom, leaving the other one vacant. People who won’t rip him off.’

‘Are we ripping him off?’ Disregarding Jack, she’d lit up. There were no ashtrays in sight, so Rebus placed a wastepaper-bin beside her, inhaling the smoke as he did so. Wonderful smoke. Almost a contact high.

‘Yes,’ he said, retreating to the desk. They’d placed Eve’s chair in the middle of the floor, Rebus to one side of her, Jack the other. She looked comfortable enough with the arrangement. ‘I don’t see Uncle Joe as a bank account kind of villain. I mean, he probably wouldn’t trust the banks in Glasgow, never mind Aberdeen. Yet there you are, you and Malky, dumping wads of cash into several accounts. I have dates, times, bank details.’ An exaggeration, but he reckoned he could wing it. ‘I’ve got statements from hotel employees, including maids who never need to clean Malky’s room. Funny, he doesn’t strike me as the tidy sort.’

Eve exhaled smoke down her nostrils, managed a smile. ‘All right,’ she said.

‘Now,’ Rebus went on, wanting to rid her of the confident smile, ‘what would Uncle Joe say to all this? I mean, Malky’s blood, but you’re not, Eve. I’d say you were expendable.’ Pause. ‘And I’d say you know it, have done for a while.’