But Ralph shook his head. “I’m not the kind to forget favors done, John, if that’s what’s worrying you.”

“It’s not.”

“Well then, as soon as I have news, I’ll be in touch.” He made the gesture again with his hand, and this time Rebus shook it.

He heard nothing until half past five.

Every half-hour he’d been taking out his phone, checking it had both charge and signal. When it did eventually ring, he almost dropped it in his haste to answer.

“Rebus,” he said.

“John, it’s Nick Ralph.”

“Yes, sir?”

“Neither good news nor bad, really. Fibers were found, and the lab will check if they match the ones from the body pulled out of the dock. It’s not always an exact science, though.”

“Nothing else?”

“The team did comment on the residual smell—definite whiff of decay, though that’s unlikely to convince a jury.”

“But it is Jack Redpath’s car.”

“Yes, it is. And you may well be right that the chap hauled from Leith Docks is Redpath. That’s why I suggested to your boss that one of his relatives is contacted and asked for a DNA sample—wouldn’t be conclusive unless the man boasts an identical twin, but it would let us know we’re on the right path.”

“You’ve spoken to James Page?”

“As a courtesy.” Ralph paused. “Which is when I discovered that you hadn’t said anything to him after our meeting. Hope I’ve not dropped you in it.”

“Not at all.” Rebus looked around the empty office. Christine Esson had clocked off, and so had practically everyone else in the building. He wondered if Page would be on his way here right now, full of righteous indignation.

Answer: yes.

Because there he stood, filling the doorway, face reddened, eyes furious.

“Speak of the devil,” Rebus said into the phone, before pressing the cancel key. Page was advancing on his desk.

“How dare you!” he exploded. “That floater is my case!”

“He’s not a ‘floater’—if I’m right, his name is Jack Redpath and he connects to the McCuskey killing and a lot more besides.”

“All of which should have been given to me, so that I could decide what to do with it!”

“Granted,” Rebus said. “But you were a bit busy grooming yourself for the cameras and the brass. That left me here as the senior officer, and I acted like one.”

“You did this to get at me—no other reason! Clear your desk and get the hell out. Go ask your good friend at Torphichen for a job. Or maybe you know someone at Wester Hailes. You better hope you’re wanted somewhere, because you’re not wanted here!”

“It’s been a pleasure,” Rebus said.