“And they’re always right, are they? Come on, Darryl, we know better than that. But I’m hearing that you’re a bright one, and that’s why we’re out here together tonight. Frank Hammell’s enemies are going to see you as their enemy, too. Which means a friend like me makes sense. That’s all I’m asking.” Cafferty stretched out his arms to consolidate the point. “Anything you feel able to share, I’ll listen. Later on, it might be that you’re ready to step out from Frank’s shadow…”

“And you’ll be there to help?”

“I’m here for you and your family, Darryl. Anytime you feel you need me.”

“Frank says you’re retired.”

“Maybe I am.”

“So why the interest?”

“Let’s just say there’s a bit of history between us.”

“A score to be settled?”

“Maybe…”

Outside the house, they shook hands again.

“Still living at home, eh?” Cafferty commented.

“For the moment.”

“I’ve got a few flats I could let you take a look at.”

But Darryl shook his head.

“You know your own mind—I like that about you too.” Cafferty patted the young man’s arm and turned, starting to walk away. Darryl watched him disappear slowly into the darkness then angled his head towards the night sky again. There were stars up there, plenty of them. You just had to believe…

19

19

I’ve always liked Perth,” Siobhan Clarke said. “Just maybe not this particular bit of it.”

She was standing outside the divisional police HQ with Rebus, keeping him company while he smoked a cigarette. The building itself was a tall concrete lump hacked up from the 1960s or ’70s. Tenements across the street and a petrol station next door.

“When are you ever in Perth?” Rebus asked.

“Away games. St. Johnstone’s ground is just off the M90.”

“You go to away games?” Rebus sounded disbelieving.

Clarke supported Hibernian FC. Time was, she’d taken Rebus to a few home matches, back in the days when you could smoke in the stadium. He couldn’t remember ever seeing a goal, just a succession of nil-nil draws made bearable by nicotine and the half-time pie.

“There’s a game in Edinburgh this weekend if you fancy it,” she was saying. “Thought not,” she added, seeing the look on his face. “So what did you get up to last night?”

“I had a quiet one—just a bit of reading.”

“Those papers Christine got off the internet?”

“Christ, no.”

“What then?”

“Hell are you smiling for? I can read, you know.”

Someone behind them cleared his throat. He stood in the doorway, doing everything but tap his watch.

“When you’re ready,” he told them.