“Found them when we bought the place,” Frank Hammell explained. “Hundreds of them left to rot in the roof space. I think they were supposed to be insulation.” He had come from behind his desk to shake Rebus’s hand. He held on to it and asked if there was news.

“Not much,” Rebus conceded. “Mind if we sit?”

Hammell took one end of the sofa and Rebus the other. Tonight Hammell was wearing stonewashed denims with brown brogues. A silver-tipped belt strained in combat with the gut it encircled. White short-sleeved shirt open at the neck. He ran a meaty hand through his hair.

“Rob’s a gent,” he told Rebus, nodding towards the door.

“Certainly seems to have a bit more gray matter than Doorman Donny at the Gimlet.”

“Brains and brawn don’t always mix. It’s getting harder to find good guys.” Hammell gave a dismissive wave of the hand. “Anyway, I leave the hiring and firing to Darryl. So what brings you here, Rebus?”

“I was hoping you could tell me where Thomas Robertson is.”

“Mind if I ask you a question first?”

“Go ahead.”

“Who the hell is Thomas Robertson?”

Rebus tried staring him out, but Hammell seemed to have played the game before. “He’s someone we were questioning,” he eventually decided to explain.

“Okay.”

“And now he’s gone missing.”

“You think he’s the one who took Annette?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure you think he did.”

Hammell stretched out both arms, palms upward. “Never heard of him till you walked in,” he protested.

“He was part of a road crew working north of Pitlochry. Drove into town and that’s the last anyone saw of him.”

“So he’s a fugitive?”

“He’s not been charged with anything.”

“How come he ended up on your radar, then?”

“He has a bit of previous.”

“Abduction?”

Rebus shook his head. “Assault.”

“And now you’ve questioned him and let him go?”

“We searched his sleeping quarters. Didn’t find anything linking him to Annette.”

Hammell was thoughtful. “How exactly am I supposed to have known about him?”

“There was some gossip on the internet.”

“Only net that interests me is the away team’s at Tynecastle.” He paused. “I saw on the news…photos of those other women. And the picture Annette sent…Is there anything I can tell Gail, just something to chase the gloom?”

“We’ve had plenty of suggestions. Tomorrow or the day after, we’ll be checking the shortlist personally.”

“No sightings of Annette, though? Her picture’s been everywhere…”

Rebus didn’t say anything to this. Hammell got up and walked behind his desk, opening a drawer and bringing out a bottle of vodka.

“Want one?”

When Rebus shook his head, Hammell lifted a single glass from the drawer and poured an inch into it.

“How’s Annette’s mother doing?” Rebus asked.

“How do you think?”