Rebus settled into the passenger seat and pulled the seatbelt down across his chest.

‘I’ll tell you all about it on the way.’

‘The way where?’

‘Not far from where you live. You won’t be late, honest. I’ll get a car to bring me back into town. But I’d quite like your attendance.’

Holmes wasn’t slow; careful – yes, but never slow. ‘You mean the male member,’ he said. ‘What’s he done this time?’

‘I shudder to think, Brian. Believe me, I shudder to think.’

There were no pressmen patrolling the gates, and the gates themselves were unlocked. The car had been put away in the garage, leaving the driveway clear. They left Holmes’ car sitting on the main road outside.

‘Quite a place,’ Holmes commented.

‘Wait till you see inside. It’s like a film set, Ingmar Bergman or something.’

Holmes shook his head. ‘I still can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘You, coming out here yesterday, barging your way in –’

‘Hardly barging, Brian. Now listen, I’m going to have a word with Jack. You sniff around, see if anything smells rotten.’

‘You mean literally rotten?’

‘I’m not expecting to find decomposing bodies in the flower beds, if that’s what you’re thinking. No, just keep your eyes open and your ears keen.’

‘And my nose wet?’

‘If you haven’t got a handkerchief on you, yes.’

They separated, Rebus to the front door, Holmes around to the side of the house, towards the garage. Rebus rang the doorbell. It was nearly six. No doubt Helen Greig would be on her way home . . .

But it was Helen Greig who answered the door.

‘Hello,’ she said. ‘Come in. Gregor’s in the living room. You know the way.’

‘Indeed I do. Keeping you busy, is he?’ He laid a finger on the face of his wristwatch.

‘Oh yes,’ she said smiling, ‘he’s a real slavemaster.’

An unkind image came to Rebus then, of Jack in leather gear and Helen Greig on a leash . . . He blinked it away. ‘Does he seem all right?’

‘Who? Gregor?’ She gave a quiet laugh. ‘He seems fine, under the circumstances. Why?’

‘Just wondering, that’s all.’

She thought for a moment, seemed about to say something, then remembered her place. ‘Can I get you anything?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘Right, see you later then.’ And off she went, back past the curving staircase, back to her office to the rear of the house. Damn, he hadn’t told Holmes about her. If Holmes peered in through the office window . . . Oh well. If he heard a scream, he’d know what had happened. He opened the living room door.

Gregor Jack was alone. Alone and listening to his hi-fi. The volume was low, but Rebus recognized the Rolling Stones. It was the album he’d been listening to earlier, Let It Bleed.

Jack rose from his leather sofa, a glass of whisky in one hand. ‘Inspector, you didn’t take long. You’ve caught me indulging in my secret vice. Well, we all have one secret vice, don’t we?’