“I think I’m a little bit in love with you, Sergeant Kaye. Let me give you my vital statistics.” He reeled off his mobile number. “Tell Fox I think I can help him. Have him call me once Macari unzips his gimp mask.” He ended the call before Kaye could respond. Staring at the screen of his phone, he broke into a smile. He did like Kaye, didn’t know what the hell the guy was doing in the Complaints. When a text arrived, he peered at it.

Blow me, it said, followed by three kisses. Dispatched, presumably, from Kaye’s own mobile. Rebus added the number to his contacts and paced the space between the rows of cars, finishing his cigarette in peace.

6

6

It turned out the Solicitor General had given Fox his own little office within the Sheriff Court on Chambers Street, not half a minute’s walk from her own fiefdom.

“Cozy,” Rebus said, examining his surroundings. The building was relatively new, but he was struggling to remember what had been there before. He had passed stressed lawyers outside, gabbling into phones, plus, nearby, their devil-may-care clients, sharing cigarettes and war stories and comparing tattoos.

Fox was seated behind a desk that was too big for his immediate needs, in a room that was a riot of wood paneling. He sat with a pen gripped between both hands. To Rebus, it seemed like a pose the man had spent too long preparing. Fox looked stiff and unconvincing, and maybe he sensed this himself—placing the pen on the desk in front of him as Rebus took the seat opposite.

“So suddenly you can help me?” he asked. “Bit of a Damascene conversion since lunchtime.”

Rebus offered a shrug. “You plan to dump on my friends from a great height; least I can do is make sure you’ve not got the squits.”

“An arresting image.”

“Are those the files?” Rebus gestured towards two large cardboard boxes by Fox’s side.

“Yes. Mid-’83, around the time Saunders killed Merchant.”

“Allegedly,” Rebus countered. “You’ve already been through them?” He watched the other man nod. “And if my name was in the frame at any point, you wouldn’t want me here?”

Fox nodded again. “Of course, until recently you worked for the Cold Case Unit. You could have accessed the files at any time, making sure nothing incriminating was left from your days at Summerhall.”

“For the sake of argument, let’s say I didn’t do that and I’m clean.”

“In this particular instance,” Fox felt it necessary to qualify.

“In this particular instance,” Rebus echoed. “And here I am, back in CID on sufferance…”

“Something you don’t want to jeopardize.”

“Which is why I’m offering my services—means I can keep an eye on you.”

“If you had nothing to do with it, you’ve nothing to fear from me.”