“I know about him,” Christie interrupted. “It was all over the net—he’s been checked out by Dempsey’s lot and let go.”

“That’s as may be,” Rebus said. “But hear what I’ve got to say, then decide for yourself.”

“You’ve got two minutes.”

It took Rebus a bit longer than that to lay out his reasoning: the van at the petrol station; the retirement of Gregor Magrath; the way Kenny Magrath had acted when confronted. There was silence on the line when he finished. Then Darryl Christie’s voice:

“Why are you telling me?”

“Because I can’t get to him—he’s made too good a job of covering his tracks.”

“Are you taping this?”

“If I am, I’m about to sign my own arrest warrant. He has to disappear, Darryl. And it has to look like he’s done a runner, otherwise the pair of us might come under the magnifying glass. Can’t have his body being found.”

“Bodies have a habit of turning up, though, don’t they?”

“Depends where they’re left.”

“Are you inviting yourself to the party?”

“No,” Rebus assured him. “The less you tell me, the better. Magrath has a workshop he uses—a garage, across from the pub at the far end of the village. Goes there first thing in the morning, and when he knocks off in the evening. I’d say evening would be best—it’s nice and dark by five o’clock. His van can’t be left behind, not if he’s supposed to have scarpered in it.”

“You’ve given this some thought.”

“I’ve not had much else to do—you said it yourself, Dempsey proved less than useless when I went to her.”

“You know what I’ll do to you if this is a stitch-up?”

“Yes.”

“This isn’t some trick Cafferty’s come up with?”

“No.”

“And what’s stopping me from going straight to this bastard’s house and kicking his door down?”

“For one thing, he has neighbors. For another, you’d have to do something about his wife. My way’s better. You take him to woods somewhere—plenty of forests up north. I can suggest a few if you like…” Rebus’s voice trailed off as he waited to see what Christie would say.

“Not necessary,” was the answer.

Which was good news: it meant he already had a spot in mind.

“I reckon he’s a creature of habit,” Rebus went on, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. “Likes his dinner ready when he comes home. That means his wife will start to worry sooner rather than later. If he’s half an hour behind schedule and not answering his phone, she’s going to go out looking, and it won’t be long after that before she calls it in.”

“Not a problem.”

“There’s a place you can take the van?”

“Want me to tell you?”

“I just want to make sure this is done right—for both our sakes.”

“No qualms?”

“Not a one.”

“We’re not going to speak again, you and me.”

“As long as I can close the file, I’m happy. Call it a little retirement present I’m giving myself.”