It was a couple more minutes before Page ended his phone call and emerged from his office. He looked around.

“Where’s John?” he asked Esson.

“He had to be elsewhere,” she apologized.

“I was under the impression he’d come out of retirement—wouldn’t know it from his current work rate.” He paused. “What’s keeping you busy today?”

“Diagnostics and analytics,” Esson replied blithely, knowing the effect the words would have.

Sure enough, Page struggled for a moment, then told her to carry on and returned to his room, closing the door after him.

Christine Esson allowed herself a little smile.

Rebus’s lunch comprised a steak bake from Greggs, eaten in the Saab with the engine running so the heater would continue to work. Afterwards he brushed flakes of pastry from his clothes before answering his ringing phone.

“This is your fault, isn’t it?” Maggie Blantyre’s voice asked.

“Usually is,” he said.

“They came to question Dod. Right bloody grilling they gave him. Said next time it might have to be at the station. Wouldn’t let me stay in the room. You should see the state of him. Last night you left in such a hurry and Dod wouldn’t say why. But I could tell he was upset. And now this—it’s your doing.”

“I’m sorry you think that.”

“Then tell me I’m wrong.”

“Who was it came? DIs Clarke and Fox?”

“I think so. Woman seemed to be the boss.”

“That’s Clarke. She’s running a murder case, Maggie. Gun used may be the same one we kept in a desk at Summerhall—they’ll be questioning everybody about it.”

“You included?”

“Me included. And not all of us will merit a home visit.”

There was silence on the line, followed by a sigh of defeat. “It just seems so unfair.”

“Has it really upset him?”

“He’s up to high doh.”

“Did he ask you to call me?”

“No.”

“What about the others—Porkbelly and Stefan? I’m assuming he couldn’t make a call without your help…”

“Christ, John, is this you fishing for information? I phone you in a state, and you do nothing but act the bloody detective?” Her voice was rising. “Well thanks for nothing—I’m sure Dod will be touched by your complete lack of concern.”

“Maggie, you know I didn’t mean—”

But there was no one on the other end. His phone’s screen told him the call had ended and wondered if he wanted to reconnect.

“Chance would be a fine thing,” he told it, before indicating to the approaching traffic warden that he was about to move off.