‘That’s entirely up to you, sir. I just want to know why you’ve lied to us about this round of golf.’

Jack swallowed. There was an empty whisky bottle on the coffee table, and three empty coffee mugs. ‘Friendship, Inspector,’ he said, ‘is . . . it’s . . .’

‘An excuse? You need more than excuses, sir. What I need right now are some facts.’ He thought of Hector as he said the word. ‘Facts,’ he repeated.

But Jack was still mumbling something about friendship. Rebus rose awkwardly from his ill-fitting marshmallow-chair. He stood over the MP. MP? This wasn’t an MP. This wasn’t the Gregor Jack. Where was the confidence, the charisma? Where the voteworthy face and that clear, honest voice? He was like one of those sauces they make on cookery programmes – reduce and reduce and reduce . . .

Rebus reached down and grabbed him by his shoulders. He actually shook him. Jack looked up in surprise. Rebus’s voice was cold and sharp like rain.

‘Where were you that Wednesday?’

‘I was . . . I . . . was . . . nowhere. Nowhere really. Everywhere.’

‘Everywhere except where you were supposed to be.’

‘I went for a drive.’

‘Where?’

‘Down the coast. I think I ended up in Eyemouth, one of those fishing villages, somewhere like that. It rained. I walked along the sea front. I walked a lot. Drove back inland. Everywhere and nowhere.’ He began to sing. ‘You’re everywhere and nowhere, baby.’ Rebus shook him again and he stopped.

‘Did anyone see you? Did you speak to anyone?’

‘I went into a pub . . . two pubs. One in Eyemouth, one somewhere else.’

‘Why? Where was. . . Suey? What was he up to?’

‘Suey.’ Jack smiled at the name. ‘Good old Suey. Friends, you see, Inspector. Where was he? He was where he always was – with some woman. I’m his cover. If anyone asks, we’re out playing golf. And sometimes we are. But the rest of the time, I’m covering for him. Not that I mind. It’s quite nice really, having that time to myself. I go off on my own, walking . . . thinking.’

‘Who’s the woman?’

‘What? I don’t know. I’m not even sure it’s just the one. . .’

‘You can’t think of any candidates?’

‘Who?’ Jack blinked. ‘You mean Liz? My Liz? No, Inspector, no.’ He smiled briefly. ‘No.’

‘All right, what about Mrs Kinnoul?’

‘Gowk?’ Now he laughed. ‘Gowk and Suey? Maybe when they were fifteen, Inspector, but not now. Have you seen Rab Kinnoul? He’s like a mountain. Suey wouldn’t dare.’

‘Well, maybe Suey will be good enough to tell me.’

‘You’ll apologize, won’t you? Tell him I had to tell you.’

‘I’d be grateful,’ Rebus said stonily, ‘if you’d think back on that afternoon. Try to remember where you stopped, the names of the pubs, anyone who might remember seeing you. Write it all down.’

‘Like a statement.’

‘Just to help you remember. It often helps when you write things down.’