“You can drive, you little bastard,” Rebus muttered, finishing his drink and ordering another. While it was being poured, he stepped out into the street for a smoke. Behind him, on the TV, the First Minister was telling an interviewer of his “great shock and dismay.”

“And what might this mean for the independence campaign?” the journalist asked, but the door had closed before Rebus could hear the answer. Clarke’s car drew to a halt curbside as he was halfway down the cigarette.

“What are you drinking?” he asked her, but she shook her head.

“On my way somewhere,” she explained.

“The lawyer again?”

“Maybe.” She had changed into fresh clothes, maybe just a dab of makeup. And perfume—subtle but present. “So how did you get on with Owen Traynor?”

“He admitted everything,” Rebus stated. Just for a moment she was taken in, but then she scowled. “Sorry to disappoint you, Shiv, but he says he had nothing to do with it.”

“You asked him to his face?”

“In front of his daughter,” Rebus added. “Hers was an interesting reaction.”

“In what way?”

“I just sensed that cogs were turning; she wasn’t sure what to make of it. Her dad meantime has created his own little office so he can keep on doing whatever it is he does.”

“Meaning he’s sticking around?”

“Looks like.”

“Not running, the way someone guilty might?”

“There’s something else—were you at the house when the wife arrived?”

“No.”

“Young Forbes was behind the wheel.”

She took a moment to consider this. “Can’t really haul him in now, though, can we?”

“With his dad in intensive care, you mean?”

“Page would have kittens.”

“Wouldn’t want the media falling out of love with him.”

“He’s got half the office going through folders of housebreakings in the city. Old-timers dragged in and questioned…” She looked at him. “Doesn’t feel like locals, though, does it?”

“The man just wants a quick result—that way the politicians will love him too.”

“Can you put word out? See if anyone’s heard anything?”

“I don’t have the contacts I used to.”

“Thing is, no one else I’ve spoken to has any. It’s a skill that seems to have died out.”

“Do we have a list of what was taken?”

“It’s getting there.”

“Get me a copy and I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thanks. Anything else I should know?”

“Just that me and Foxy are best buds now.”

“Somehow I doubt that.” She couldn’t help smiling.

“Then let’s just say he’s thawing.”

“Really?”

Rebus gave it three beats. “No, not really,” he admitted. The smile was still there as she shifted the Astra’s gearstick into first, giving him a little wave with the fingers of her right hand.

Back inside the bar, Rebus was asked if Alistair Darling was being brought in for questioning, since he was heading the No campaign.