She grew thoughtful again. “Working cold cases, you must meet a lot of families who’ve lost loved ones…” She watched him nod. “I talk to a lot of them, too. Over the internet mostly. You know that in England and Wales they can’t issue a death certificate, no matter how long the person’s been missing? It’s hell for the families—means they can’t sort out the estate. Up here, you wait seven years and the court gives you a Presumption of Death certificate.”

“And that’s what happened to you?”

She shook her head. “Presumption’s not what I want. I need to know what happened to her.”

“Even after all this time?”

“Even after all this time,” she echoed. Then she sighed, finished her drink in two gulps and asked if he would walk her back to the hotel.

“My pleasure,” he said.

As they walked back up Victoria Street, he told her he’d not been in the Missoni before.

“I doubt I’d be able to afford it normally,” she explained, “but I got a late deal.”

The kilted doorman didn’t seem to be around. They stopped at the steps, both lighting cigarettes, standing in companionable silence as the traffic and pedestrians rolled past.

“The rooms are nice,” she said eventually. “In fact…” She looked in her bag. “There was something I wanted to give you, but it’s upstairs.” She looked up at him. “Do you want to…?” But he was already shaking his head.

“Then will you wait here while I fetch it?”

“Sure.”

So she stubbed out her cigarette and headed indoors. Three minutes later she was back, holding a book.

“Here,” she said, handing it over.

Rebus read the title aloud: “The British Isles: Myth and Magic. Is this the one you did research for?”

She nodded, watching as he flicked through a few pages.

“Thanks,” he said. “I mean it. I’ll start it tonight.”

“Look, about earlier…I hope you don’t think I was trying to proposition you?”

He shook his head again. “Not a problem, Nina. It would have been flattering if you had. Are you heading back in the morning?”

She gestured towards the building across the street. “Bit of research I need to do.”

“The National Library?”

“Yes.”

“Is this for work?”

She nodded. “I was thinking of staying another night…”

There was an invitation there—or at least an opening—but Rebus ignored it.

“You know you’ll be the first person I call—supposing I make any progress,” he said instead.

“You seem to be my best hope, John. I can’t thank you enough.” She moved forward to kiss him, but he leaned back a little at the waist, and instead took her hand in his, shaking it. Her grip was almost fierce. Her whole body seemed to be vibrating.

“Maybe next time we can compare myths and legends,” he said.