“Then you’re probably not much use to me.” As Christie signaled to pull to a stop at the foot of Arden Street, he turned his face towards Rebus for the first time. “Does DI Clarke think I’ll ever use Dean Grant again? Whether he told you anything or not, he’s off the payroll. Damaged goods, Mr. Rebus—no place for them in today’s harsh economic climate, and that’s the truth.”

Rebus pushed open the door and got out, retrieving his carrier bag. As Darryl Christie drove off, he appeared to have forgotten all about his recent passenger, his focus on the road in front of him absolute.

“Oh well,” Rebus muttered under his breath. “Sorry about that, Deano.”

“I just wanted to thank you,” Fox said. He was sitting with Siobhan Clarke at a table in a boisterous Italian restaurant near the top of Leith Walk. It was early evening, but a coach party was taking advantage of the pretheater menu before heading to the Playhouse.

“For what?” Clarke asked.

“Putting a word in with Rebus.”

“Did I do that?” She furrowed her brow.

“You told him you thought I was okay.”

“And for that I deserve to be bought dinner?”

“You can’t live on cheeseburgers.”

“Don’t remind me.” She made show of rubbing her stomach, stopping as the drinks arrived—a large Pinot Grigio for her, tomato juice for Fox. “How long have you been dry?” she asked.

“Long enough to know it’s the way it has to be. Have you ever tried persuading John to stop?”

“Once or twice. He seems to cope, though.”

“I think the term is ‘functioning alcoholic.’”

“Whereas you…?”

“Come with a history of malfunctioning.” He paused. “Doesn’t mean I envy him the ability to keep drinking. It’s taking more out of him than he gets back, whether he knows it or not.”

“You’ve talked to him?”

Fox shook his head. “What’s the point? But I can see he’s worried. Not about the drink, but about his job. He wonders how long he has left.”

“And without the job…”

Fox shrugged. “What else has he got?”

“How about you, Malcolm—what have you got?”

“My dad and my sister. Plus my team from the Complaints. We still meet up.”

“Might be a bit of distance between you and them now you’re CID…”

Fox nodded. “And I know I have to earn my place. Nobody’s going to trust me at the start. But plenty of others have made the move before me—it can be done.”

Clarke nodded her agreement. Their food arrived and they ate in silence for a few moments, while fresh laughter erupted from the table of revelers.

“Nice to know there’s another world out there,” Fox commented. “Too easy sometimes to let the job smother us.”

“Though having said that…”

Fox looked at her and smiled. “You want to talk about the case?”