Rebus glanced at Holmes. ‘We can’t let you do that, Gowk. That would be murder.’

She nodded. ‘Thas right, murder.’ She said the final word very carefully, enunciating each letter, then repeated it. ‘Cut off his head,’ she said. ‘An’ they’ll put me beside Mack.’ She smiled again, the thought pleasing her. And all the time Rab Kinnoul’s names were drifting from the other room . . .

‘. . . best, absolutely . . . like to work with him again. Consummate professionalism . . . and good old George Cole, too . . . the old school . . . yes, the old school . . . the old school . . .’

‘Mack . . .’ Cathy Kinnoul was saying. ‘Mack . . . Suey . . . Sexton . . . Beggar . . . Poor Beggar . . .’

‘The old school.’

Some school ties you just kept too long. Way after they should have been thrown out.

Rebus telephoned Barney Byars. The secretary put him through.

‘Inspector,’ came Byars’ voice, all energy and business, ‘I just can’t shake you off, can I?’

‘You’re too easy to catch,’ Rebus said.

Byars laughed. ‘I’ve got to be,’ he said, ‘otherwise the clients can’t catch me. I always like to make myself available. Now, what’s your beef this time?’

‘It’s about an evening you spent not so long ago with Rab Kinnoul and Ronald Steele . . .’

Byars was able to substantiate the story in all but the most crucial details. Rebus explained about Kinnoul coming downstairs and repeating what Gail had said to him.

‘I don’t remember that,’ Byars said. ‘I was well on by then, mind. So well on I think I stumped up for the three of us.’ He chuckled. ‘Suey had his usual excuse of being flat broke, and Rab was carrying not more than ten bar by then.’ Another chuckle. ‘See, I always remember my sums, especially when it’s money.’

‘But you’re sure you don’t recall Mr Kinnoul telling you what the prostitute told him?’

‘I’m not saying he didn’t say it, mind, but no, I can’t for the life of me remember it.’

Which made it Kinnoul’s word against Byars’ memory. The only thing for it was to talk to Steele again. Rebus could call in on the way to Patience’s. It was a long way round for a shortcut, but it shouldn’t take too long. Cathy Kinnoul was another problem. It didn’t do to have knife-wielding pill-poppers running around at large. The family doctor, summoned by Holmes, had listened to their story and suggested that Mrs Kinnoul be admitted to a hospital on the outskirts of the city. Would there be any criminal charges . . .?

‘Of course,’ said Holmes testily. ‘Attempted murder for starters.’

But Rebus was thinking. He was thinking of how badly Cath Kinnoul had been treated. Thinking, too, of all those obstruction charges he might be filing – Hector, Steele, Jack himself. And, most of all, thinking of Andrew Macmillan. He’d seen what ‘special hospitals’ did with the criminally insane. Cath Kinnoul would be treated anyway. So long as she underwent treatment, what was the point of pressing a charge of attempted murder on her?