‘A confession?’ Rebus hazarded. He was rewarded with a weak smile.

‘That, Inspector, they’ll never get.’ The smile left his face. ‘But I am worried about Gregor . . . what all this is doing to him. He’s . . . well, you’ll see for yourself.’

‘Any idea what this meeting’s all about?’

‘He wouldn’t say. Inspector . . .’ Urquhart had stopped. ‘He’s very fragile. I mean, he might say anything. I just hope you can tell truth from fantasy.’ Then he started to walk again.

‘Are you still diluting his whisky?’ Rebus asked.

Urquhart gave him an appraising look, then nodded. ‘That’s not the answer, Inspector. That’s not what he needs. He needs friends.’

Andrew Macmillan, too, had gone on about friends. Rebus wanted to talk to Jack about Andrew Macmillan. But he wasn’t in a hurry. He had paused beside the Saab, causing Urquhart to pause too.

‘What is it?’

‘You know,’ said Rebus, ‘I’ve always liked Saabs, but I’ve never had the money around to buy one. Do you think Mr Jack would mind if I just sat in the driver’s seat for a minute?’

Urquhart looked at a loss for an answer. He ended up making a gesture somewhere between a shrug and a shake of the head. Rebus tried the driver’s door. It was unlocked. He slid into the seat and rested his hands on the steering wheel, leaving the door itself open so Urquhart could stand there and watch.

‘Very comfortable,’ Rebus said.

‘So I believe.’

‘You’ve never driven it yourself then?’

‘No.’

‘Oh.’ Rebus stared out of the windscreen, then at the passenger seat and the floor. ‘Yes, well designed, comfortable. Plenty of room, eh?’ And he turned in his seat, twisting his whole body round to examine the rear seat . . . the rear floor. ‘Heaps of room,’ he commented. ‘Lovely.’

‘Maybe Gregor would let you take her for a spin?’

Rebus looked up keenly. ‘Do you think so? I mean, when this has all blown over, of course.’ He started to get out of the car. Urquhart snorted.

‘Blown over? This sort of thing doesn’t “blow over”, not when you’re an MP. The broth – . . . those allegations in the newspapers, they were bad enough, but now murder? No.’ He shook his head. ‘This won’t just blow over, Inspector. It’s not a raincloud, it’s a mud bath, and mud sticks.’

Rebus closed the door. ‘Nice solid clunk, too, when you shut it, isn’t there? How well did you know Mrs Jack?’

‘Pretty well. I used to see her most days.’

‘But I believe Mr and Mrs Jack led fairly separate lives?’

‘I wouldn’t go that far. They were married.’

‘And in love?’

Urquhart thought for a moment. ‘I’d say so, yes.’

‘Despite everything?’ Rebus was walking around the car now, as though deciding whether or not to buy it.

‘I’m not sure I understand.’

‘Oh, you know, different sorts of friends, different lifestyles, separate holidays . . .’