Rebus got up and headed over to the bay window, pulling it open and crouching down so he could light a cigarette and blow the smoke outside.

“I appreciate the thought,” Clarke said. “Now, about the McCuskeys…”

“You probably know as much as I do when it comes to the break-in.”

“Managed to link it to the son yet?”

“No…”

“That sounds like you’re getting closer, though.”

“Just from the way I said ‘no’?”

She nodded. “So here’s where we find out if you think you can trust me.”

“I trust you.”

“Then share.”

Rebus held up a finger. “You have to go first—how is Fox working out?”

“He’s okay. A sharp mind, even if his CID skills are a bit rusty.” “Do you trust him?”

“I think so, yes.”

“Even though he could still be playing for Elinor Macari’s team?”

“I trust him,” Clarke stated. “Now it’s your turn.”

Rebus blew smoke through the gap in the window. “Forbes McCuskey isn’t a big player. My guess is he just buys enough to sell on to his immediate circle—probably reckons it makes him look big and important. He gets the stuff from a doorman at the Gimlet.”

“Darryl Christie’s pub?”

“The same. Not that Christie knows anything about it.” Rebus paused. “So when you question the doorman—name’s Deano, by the way—keep it low-key. He might be useful to us some day, but not if Christie’s booted him off the park.”

“And why would I be questioning this Deano character?”

“Because he was the passenger in Billy Saunders’s minicab. Needed to go to Niddrie for a bit of shopping. Says Saunders didn’t seem particularly antsy. The car was supposed to wait, but it didn’t.”

“Anything else?”

Rebus shook his head.

“And you were going to bring this to me first thing in the morning?”

“Of course.” He gestured towards her mug. “How’s the tea?” “I think the milk’s past it.”

“Past it sometimes still does the job.” He paused. “If you want to leave your car here, I can run you home. Don’t want you nodding off at the wheel.”

She was stifling a yawn, but shaking her head at the same time. “You know that your pal Gilmour connects to Owen Traynor?”

“Yes.”

“Been keeping that to yourself too?”

“Obviously not—who told you?”

“Laura.”

“Another favor owed.”

“The shining knight of the Better Together campaign is beginning to look pretty tarnished.”

“This is why I don’t vote. My ex campaigned for devolution back in ’79. Drove me demented.”

“But we’ve got the chance for a fresh start,” Clarke teased him.

“Thing about fresh starts, though, Siobhan…”

“What?”

“They usually turn out to be same old in disguise.”