Rebus nodded. ‘You’re being very honest, Mr Steele.’

Steele shrugged. ‘I don’t want Gregor getting into trouble because of me.’

‘And you were with this woman on the Wednesday afternoon in question? The afternoon Mrs Jack died?’

Steele nodded solemnly.

‘And will she back you up?’

Steele smiled grimly. ‘Not a hope in hell.’

‘The husband again?’

‘The husband,’ Steele acknowledged.

‘But he’s bound to find out sooner or later, isn’t he?’ Rebus said. ‘So many people seem to know already about you and Mrs Kinnoul.’

Steele twitched, as though a small electric shock had been administered to his shoulder blades. He stared down at the floor, willing it to become a pit he might jump into. Then he sat back.

‘How did you . . .?’

‘A guess, Mr Steele.’

‘A bloody inspired guess. But you say other people . . .?’

‘Other people are guessing too. You persuaded Mrs Kinnoul to take up an interest in rare books. It makes a good cover, after all, doesn’t it? I mean, if you’re ever found there with her. I even notice that she’s modelled her library on your own room here.’

‘It’s not what you think, Inspector.’

‘I don’t think anything, sir.’

‘Cathy just needs someone to listen to her. Rab never has time. The only time he has is for himself. Gowk was the cleverest of the lot of us.’

‘Yes, so Mr Pond was telling me.’

‘Tom? He’s back from the States then?’

Rebus nodded. ‘I was with him just this morning . . . at his cottage.’

Rebus waited for a reaction, but Steele’s mind was still fixed on Cath Kinnoul. ‘It breaks my heart to see her . . . to see what she’s . . .’

‘She’s a friend,’ Rebus stated.

‘Yes, she is.’

‘Well then, she’s sure to back up your story; a friend in need and all that . . .?’

Steele was shaking his head. ‘You don’t understand, Inspector. Rab Kinnoul is . . . he can be . . . a violent man. Mental violence and physical violence. He terrifies her.’

Rebus sighed. ‘Then we’ve only your own word for your whereabouts?’

Steele shrugged. He looked as though he might cry – tears of frustration rather than anything else. He took a deep breath. ‘You think I killed Liz?’

‘Did you?’

Steele shook his head. ‘No.’

‘Well then, you’ve nothing to worry about, have you, sir?’

Steele managed that grim smile again. ‘Not a worry in the world,’ he said.

Rebus rose to his feet. ‘That’s the spirit, Mr Steele.’ But Ronald Steele looked like there was just about enough spirit left in him to fill a teaspoon. ‘All the same, you’re not making it easy for yourself . . .’

‘Have you spoken to Gregor?’ Steele asked.

Rebus nodded.

‘Does he know about Cathy and me?’

‘I couldn’t say.’ They were both heading for the front door now. ‘Would it make any difference if he did?’

‘Christ knows. No, maybe not.’