“I suppose I can ask around, maybe pull some strings.”

“Try not to sound too thrilled about it. And call me when you get news.”

The phone went dead and Gilmour stared at it. “Don’t bother thanking me,” he scolded it. He could hear his visitor putting on some music in the living room. Instead of joining her, he locked the bathroom door and settled himself on the toilet pan, head in hands, wondering what to do about Billy Saunders.

When Rebus’s phone rang that evening, he knew who it would be. He could still feel the steak pie like a solid weight in his stomach, so had decided on a liquid dinner of a couple of bottles of IPA. He was starting the second of them as he answered.

“I want to apologize,” Stefan Gilmour said.

“For what?”

“It isn’t what you think, John.”

“Does she qualify as one of those WAGs I read about in the redtops?”

“She’s got a knack for getting herself on guest lists.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.”

There was silence on the line.

“I mean it,” Rebus said. “On the other hand, I can’t vouch for Fox.”

He listened as Gilmour drew in breath through his teeth. “I need to know whose side you’re on, John.”

“Aye, it seems to be a popular question these days.”

“I can’t believe you’d want a piece of pond life like Fox cutting me off at the knees.” Statement rather than question.

“A bit of trust might help,” Rebus retorted. “So how about you telling me what sort of hold Saunders had over you? See, my guess is that’s why you were phoning him—maybe to tell him it was no longer relevant, or that you had something on him.”

“There was never any ‘hold,’ John.”

“I think you’re lying.”

“Then there’s not much more to say.” Gilmour paused. “And probably no point me asking you to intercede with your new friend Fox?”

“You mean ask him to forget about the WAG?”

“It would be worth a case or two of malt—you still like a whisky now and then, don’t you?”

“You can’t buy everybody, Stefan. And if you considered me a pal, you wouldn’t even feel the need to try…”

“Fair enough.” Gilmour sounded beaten. “I just think it’s crazy to waste time and money on a case that’s going to go nowhere. And even if it did go to trial, all it would do is fluff up Elinor Macari’s feathers. Because this is one big ego trip for her—her way of telling the world she was right to bring in the double jeopardy clause. Nothing to do with justice, John—we’re just the same pawns we always were.”

“You’re not exactly a pawn these days, Stefan.”