“You don’t need to be afraid of the police,” her father reassured her. “They’ve got nothing on you, because you did nothing.” He looked around the room, making sure he had everyone’s attention. “We stick to the plan, and you leave everything to me.” Then, to Forbes: “When does this guy Ralph want to see you?”

“First thing in the morning at Torphichen police station.”

“No problem, then. Everything will be sorted long before that.”

Alice Bell realized that he was standing directly in front of her. She looked up towards his face. He was holding out his mobile phone.

“Punch in Uncle Rory’s number again, will you, sweetheart?”

She did so, and he plucked the phone from her hand, pressing it to his ear, listening first of all to the ringtone, and then to Rory Bell’s questioning voice.

“It’s me,” Owen Traynor said. “So do yourself a favor this time and listen…”

25

25

This was the second place Siobhan said to try.”

Rebus looked up from his table. He was seated in the corner by the window in the back room of the Oxford Bar. There were a couple of smokers outside, visible through the glass, and he’d been readying to join them. But now Malcolm Fox was standing in front of him, hands in pockets, a thin smile on his face.

“The first being…?”

“Arden Street.”

“So you went there?”

Fox shook his head. “I disagreed with her analysis.”

“Am I due a bollocking?” Rebus asked. “Because—trust me—I’m really not in the mood.”

“How about a drink instead?” Fox nodded towards Rebus’s near-empty pint. Rebus studied the man, wondering what his angle was. Then he nodded.

“IPA,” he said.

Fox retreated to the bar and Rebus stuffed his cigarettes and matches back into his coat. The bar was quiet—midweek, midevening. There was a folk night planned for later, but Rebus would be making himself scarce before then. His car was outside and he knew a breathalyzer would do for him. He rubbed a hand through his hair and exhaled noisily, hunching over the table.

“Here you go,” Fox said, placing the fresh drink in front of him. He’d fetched a can of Coke for himself, plus a glass filled with ice. “Cheers.”

Rebus watched him fill the tumbler, the ice cubes crackling.

“Do you go to AA?” he asked.

“Not anymore.”

“And you can come into a pub and not feel tempted?”

“Of course I’m tempted.” Fox settled himself on a chair. “I’m only human—despite what you might think.” He lifted his drink. “You look like you’ve had a day of it.”

“Did Siobhan send you to play Good Samaritan?”

“Is one needed?”

“You’ve really not heard? Page has had enough of me. I took something to the McCuskey inquiry that was rightfully his.”

“Oh.”

Rebus stared at him. “I’d’ve thought Page would have been straight on the blower.”