“Not the way you think.” Rebus considered for a moment. “A DNA swab takes seconds. It can be done in private. If there’s a match with the hair, it can be ruled out as evidence and the team can focus their attention elsewhere.”

“Unless they decide to pin all five on me, of course.” Hammell’s eyes were on Rebus now. “Your pal Cafferty would love that.”

“Not going to happen,” Rebus stated.

“You really think this isn’t going to get out? We both know what cop shops are like.”

“Was it a long-standing arrangement, you and Annette?”

Hammell glowered at him. “Mind your own fucking business.”

“She wasn’t pregnant, was she?”

“What?”

“She felt sick on the bus.”

Hammell shook his head. The landline started ringing, but Rebus ignored it.

“Could be important,” Hammell said.

“It’s a prerecorded message about a mis-sold payment protection plan that I never had in the first place.”

“That’s detective work right there,” Hammell said.

“They’re the only people who ever bother to call.”

As the ringing stopped, Hammell broke into a grim smile. “This is all going to turn to shit,” he commented, “yet somehow I can’t bring myself to loathe your guts.” He started to get to his feet.

“I’ll have a word with DI Clarke,” Rebus told him. “Ask her to pass the message to DCS Dempsey direct. The swab can be done somewhere private—doesn’t have to be a police station.”

Hammell studied him. “Why would you want to help?” he asked.

“I’m a public servant, Mr. Hammell, and you—whether I like it or not—are the public.” Rebus rose from his chair and the two men shook again.

“I’ll have the beating of you next time, mind,” Hammell stated.

“I don’t doubt that,” Rebus agreed, showing him to the door.

57

You know what police stations are like,” Siobhan Clarke advised. She was still in Inverness; Rebus was standing next to his car, parked in the police bay outside Gayfield Square, phone pressed to his ear.

“That’s what Hammell himself said. It’s why you’re the only one I’m telling, and why you should take it straight to Dempsey.”

“Even so…” She sounded skeptical. “And it’s not as though we owe Frank Hammell anything.”

“It’s not just him, though, is it? Haven’t Annette’s family got enough on their plates?”

“I suppose.”

“Well then.” Rebus watched as a traffic warden approached. The man studied the sign on the Saab’s dashboard and kept walking.

“Thing is, though,” Clarke was saying, “if James finds out I went behind his back…”

“No reason why he should.”

“What’s to stop Dempsey telling him?”

“You’ll ask her not to. It’s not like she won’t owe you. Think how much of the budget she’d have wasted getting DNA from every bloke up there.” Rebus listened to her sigh. “How’s everything else?” he asked.

“Whole community around Edderton’s been questioned. No lightbulb moments to report.”

“Hints of anyone protecting a nearest and dearest?”

“Nothing.”

“And the search?”

“Hasn’t turned up a damned thing. I get the feeling Dempsey’s going to give James and me our ticket home today.”