Watson nodded, studying the list as though it contained exam questions. Then he handed it on to Lauderdale.

‘It’s certainly a start,’ said Watson.

‘The thing is, Chief Superintendent,’ said Sir Hugh, ‘the boy knows he’s in trouble, but it seems to me the only trouble he’s in stems from trying to help other people.’

Watson nodded thoughtfully. Rebus stood up. ‘If you’ll excuse me a moment . . .’ And he made for the door, closing it behind him with a real sense of escape. He had no intention of returning. There might be a slap on the wrist later from Lauderdale or Watson – bad manners that, John – but no way could he sit in that stifling room with all those stifling people. Holmes was loitering at the far end of the corridor.

‘What’s up?’ he asked when Rebus approached.

‘Nothing to get excited about.’

‘Oh.’ Holmes looked deflated. ‘Only we all thought . . .’

‘You all thought he was coming in to confess? Quite the opposite, Brian.’

‘Is Glass going to end up going down for both murders then?’

Rebus shrugged. ‘Nothing would surprise me,’ he said. Despite his morning shower, he felt grimy and unhealthy.

‘Makes it nice and neat, doesn’t it?’

‘We’re the police, Brian, we’re not meant to be char ladies.’

‘Sorry I spoke.’

Rebus sighed. ‘Sorry, Brian. I didn’t mean to dust you off.’ They stared at one another for a second, then laughed. It wasn’t much, but it was better than nothing. ‘Right, I’m off to Queensferry.’

‘Autograph-hunting?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Need a chauffeur?’

‘Why not. Come on then.’

A snap decision, Rebus was later to think, which probably saved his life.

11
Old School Ties

They managed not to speak about work on the way out to Queensferry. Instead, they spoke about women.

‘What about the four of us going out some night?’ Brian Holmes suggested at one point.

‘I’m not sure Patience and Nell would get on,’ Rebus mused.

‘What, different personalities, you mean?’

‘No, similar personalities. That’s the problem.’

Rebus was thinking of tonight’s dinner with Patience. Of trying to take time off from the Jack case. Of not making a Jack-ass of himself. Of jacking it all in . . .

‘It was only a thought,’ said Holmes. ‘That’s all, only a thought.’

The rain was starting as they neared the Kinnoul house. The sky had been darkening for the duration of the drive, until now, it seemed, evening had come early. Rab Kinnoul’s Land-Rover was parked outside the front door. Curiously, the door to the house was open. Rain bounced off the car bonnet, becoming heavier by the second.

‘Better make a run for it,’ said Rebus. They opened their doors and ran. Rebus, however, was on the right side for the house, while Holmes had to skirt around the car first. So Rebus was first up the steps, and first through the doorway and into the hall. He shook his hair free of water, then opened his eyes.