“Mind if I ask something?”

“What is it, DS Rebus?”

“You interviewed Saunders, didn’t you? Could that have spooked him?”

“It’s possible,” Macari conceded. “A follow-up session was due later today.”

“Might be why he ran, then.” Rebus paused. “Did he give you anything?”

“He was reticent.”

“Were you prepared to offer him a deal?”

“Not immediately. But if you’re concerned, I’m happy to reassure you your own name didn’t come up—that’s the only reason you’re sitting here. Malcolm has explained his thinking to me, and I can see why he might find you useful…up to a point.”

“I’m guessing I’ll know when that point is reached?”

“Believe me, you will.”

“Fine then. But meantime, have we earned our coffee and biscuit?”

For his efforts, Rebus received the sort of look she would have given a busted rowing machine. Fox was rising to his feet, placing his mug back on the tray.

“We’ve taken enough of your time,” he was saying.

Rebus followed suit, pausing just long enough to lift a second digestive. Macari said nothing, but kept her eyes on them as they exited the office. Once the door was closed, she reached forward and took the one remaining biscuit, studying it for the best part of thirty seconds before indulging in a large, satisfying bite.

The Gimlet wouldn’t open for another hour, so they took Rebus’s Saab to Niddrie. The worst of the housing stock had been ripped down and replaced. Gap sites existed, and it was on one of these that the Ford Sierra had been abandoned.

“Key left in the ignition,” Fox explained as they parked next to the spot. “Lucky the local kids didn’t decide to take it for a spin.”

“Why didn’t they?”

Fox just shrugged. “Anyway, the owner of the minicab company sent someone this morning to rescue it.”

“Meaning any evidence will have been contaminated,” Rebus commented.

“Evidence?”

“It’s the stuff we collect to make a case that can go to trial.”

Fox glared at him. “You think something could have happened to Saunders?”

“Not really.”

“But there’s a chance?”

“If someone’s going to do a runner, they’d normally head for a train or bus station. Saunders didn’t do that. He left his car in the back of beyond.”

“To throw us off his scent?”

“Or it could be he’s got a pal nearby who could fix him up.” Rebus narrowed his eyes against the smoke from his cigarette.

“So we talk to family and friends?”

“And his boss—see what else he might know about the booking from the Gimlet.”

“And the Gimlet itself—someone there is bound to know who the pickup was for.”

“Getting them to tell us might be the problem. It’s not exactly G and Ts and cashmere jumpers in there.”

“But you’re a known face?”

“Doesn’t make me a liked face.”