Rebus was remembering the woman in the bed, the way she kicked her legs in the air, the way she’d lifted her t-shirt for the photographers to see . . .

‘Why didn’t you say anything at the time, Gregor?’

Jack laughed shrilly. ‘It was bad enough as it was. Would it have been any better if I’d let everyone know my sister’s a tart?’

‘Well then, why tell me now?’

His voice was calm. ‘It looks to me, Inspector, like I’m in deep water. I’m just jettisoning what I don’t need.’

‘You must know then, sir . . . you must have known all along, that someone is setting you up to take a very big fall.’

Jack smiled. ‘Oh yes.’

‘Any idea who? I mean, any enemies?’

The smile again. ‘I’m an MP, Inspector. The wonder is that I have any friends.’

‘Ah yes, The Pack. Could one of them . . .?’

‘Inspector, I’ve racked my brain and I’m no nearer finding out.’ He looked up at Rebus. ‘Honest.’

‘You didn’t recognize the caller’s voice?’

‘It was heavily muffled. Gruff. A man probably, but to be honest it could have been a woman.’

‘Okay then, what about your sister? Tell me about her.’

It was soon told. She’d left home young, and never been heard of. Vague rumours of London and marriage had drifted north over the years, but that was all. Then the phone call . . .

‘How could the caller know? How might they have found out?’

‘Now that’s a mystery, because I’ve never told anybody about Gail.’

‘But your schoolfriends would know of her?’

‘Slightly, I suppose. I doubt any of them remember her. She was two years below us at school.’

‘You think maybe she came back up here looking for revenge?’

Jack spread his palms. ‘Revenge for what?’

‘Well, jealousy then.’

‘Why didn’t she just get in touch?’

It was a point. Rebus made a mental note to get in touch with her, supposing she was still around. ‘You haven’t heard from her since?’

‘Not before, not since.’

‘Why did you want to see her, Gregor?’

‘One, I really was interested.’ He broke off.

‘And two?’

‘Two . . . I don’t know, maybe to talk her out of what she was doing.’

‘For her own good, or for yours?’

Jack smiled. ‘You’re right, of course, bad for the image having a sister on the game.’

‘There are worse forms of prostitution than whoring.’

Jack nodded, impressed. ‘Very deep, Inspector. Can I use that in one of my speeches? Not that I’ll be making many of those from now on. Whichever way you look at it, my career’s down the Swanny.’

‘Never give up, sir. Think of Robert the Bruce.’

‘And the spider, you mean? I hate spiders. So does Liz.’ He halted. ‘Did Liz.’

Rebus wanted to keep the conversation moving. The amount of whisky Jack had drunk, he might tip over any minute. ‘Can I ask you about that last party up at Deer Lodge?’