“A rare evening off,” Drake conceded. “Watched a couple of episodes of a TV show called Spiral. Supper from the freezer and some preparatory work for the next day. Replied to a dozen e-mails—personal as well as business—and made a few calls.”

“I see you’ve got the records.” Rebus gestured towards the printouts.

Drake nodded. “Landline and mobile. I’ve got names for everyone he spoke to or texted.”

“And they’ve been interviewed?”

“Sometimes just by phone.”

“Including this one?” Rebus tapped a finger against Alice Bell’s name.

“Shares a flat with the deceased’s son’s girlfriend. She’s studying art history and Mr. McCuskey had arranged a tour of the Parliament for her—big collection there, apparently. Have you ever been?”

Rebus nodded slowly. “Years back, not long after it opened. Official business, though, I don’t recall seeing any paintings.” He paused. “Any more calls between the two of them?”

“Three or four over the space of a month.”

“Setting up the Parliament tour?”

“That’s right—have you spotted something I missed?”

“Not at all—seems very thorough,” Rebus said. “And you’ve shown the results to…?”

“DCI Ralph. It would have been DI Clarke, only she’s not here.” Drake looked up at Rebus. “They’ve put her in charge of a real murder case.”

“You never know, son—this might turn into one again.” Rebus placed his half-empty mug on the nearest window ledge. “You just have to keep panning for gold…”