‘You take it absolutely right,’ said Colin.

‘Let’s not exaggerate or misrepresent,’ said Hector quietly. ‘Let us deal in facts.’

‘Well, sir,’ said Rebus, ‘while we’re dealing in facts, it’s a fact that a colleague of mine, Detective Constable Broome, came out here last week to check on whether that particular round of golf had been played. I believe he dealt with you, seeing how the club secretary here was ill that day.’

‘Remember, Hector,’ the secretary interrupted nervously, ‘one of my migraines.’

Hector nodded curtly. ‘I remember.’

‘You weren’t exactly honest with DC Broome, were you, sir?’ said Rebus. Colin was licking his lips, enjoying the confrontation.

‘On the contrary, Inspector,’ said Hector. ‘I was scrupulously honest in answering the detective constable’s questions. He just didn’t ask the right ones. In fact, he was very sloppy indeed. Took one look at the bookings and seemed satisfied. I recall he was in a hurry . . . he had to meet his wife.’

Right, thought Rebus, Broome was for a carpeting then. Even so . . .

‘Even so, sir, it was your duty –’

‘I answered his questions, Inspector. I did not lie.’

‘Well then, let’s say that you were “economical with the truth”.’

Colin snorted. Hector gave him a cold look, but his words were for Rebus. ‘He wasn’t thorough enough, Inspector. It’s as simple as that. I don’t expect my patients to help me if I’m not thorough enough in my treatment of them. You shouldn’t expect me to do your work for you.’

‘This is a serious criminal case, sir.’

‘Then why are we arguing? Ask your questions.’

The barman interrupted. ‘Hold on, before you start, I’ve got a question.’ He looked at each of them in turn. ‘What are you having?’

Bill the Barman poured the drinks. The round was on him, and he totted up the amount and scribbled it into a small notebook kept beside the till. The bloody marys from the window came over to join in. The beer-drinker was introduced to Rebus as David Cassidy – ‘No jokes, please. How were my parents supposed to know?’ – and the man called Colin was indeed drinking milk – ‘ulcer, doctor’s orders’.

Hector accepted a thin, delicate glass filled to the lip with dry sherry. He toasted ‘our general health’.

‘But not the National Health, eh, Hector?’ added Colin, going on to explain to Rebus that Hector was a dentist.

‘Private,’ Cassidy added.

‘Which,’ Hector retorted, ‘is what this club is supposed to be. Private. Members’ private business should be none of our concern.’

‘Which is why,’ Rebus speculated, ‘you’ve been acting as alibi for Jack and Steele?’

Hector merely sighed. ‘“Alibi” is rather strong, Inspector. As club members, they are allowed to book and to cancel at short notice.’

‘And that’s what happened?’

‘Sometimes, yes.’

‘But not all the time?’

‘They played occasionally.’

‘How occasionally?’

‘I’d have to check.’

‘About once a month,’ Barman Bill said. He held on to the glass-towel as if it were a talisman.