‘How did the golf game go?’ Rebus asked back.

‘What golf game?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘Oh.’ Urquhart nodded. ‘You mean Gregor’s game. I don’t know. I haven’t asked him yet.’

So Urquhart himself hadn’t been involved. He paused for so long that Rebus thought a dead end had been reached, but the need to speak was too great.

‘That’s a regular date,’ Urquhart went on. ‘Gregor and Ronnie Steele. Most Wednesday afternoons.’

Ah, Suey, Mr would-be teenage suicide . . .

Rebus tried to make his next question sound like a joke. ‘Doesn’t Gregor ever do any work?’

Urquhart looked stunned. ‘He’s always working. That game of golf . . . it’s about the only free time I’ve ever known him have.’

‘But he doesn’t seem to be in London very often.’

‘Ah well, the constituency comes first, that’s Gregor’s way.’

‘Look after the folk who voted you in, and they’ll look after you?’

‘Something like that,’ Urquhart allowed. There was no more time for talk. The identification was about to take place. And if Gregor Jack looked bad before he saw the body, he looked like a half-filled rag doll afterwards.

‘Oh Christ, that dress . . .’ He seemed about to collapse, but Ian Urquhart had a firm grip on him.

‘If you’ll look at the face,’ someone was saying. ‘We need to be definite . . .’

They all looked at the face. Yes, thought Rebus, that’s the person I saw beside the stream.

‘Yes,’ said Gregor Jack, his voice wavering, ‘that’s my . . . that’s Liz.’

Rebus actually breathed a sigh of relief.

What nobody had expected, what nobody had really considered, was Sir Hugh Ferrie.

‘Let’s just say,’ said Chief Superintendent Watson, ‘that a certain amount of . . . pressure . . . is being applied.’

As ever, Rebus couldn’t hold his tongue. ‘There’s nothing to apply pressure to! What are we supposed to do that we’re not already doing?’

‘Sir Hugh considers that we should have caught William Glass by now.’

‘But we don’t even know –’

‘Now, we all know Sir Hugh can be a bit hot-headed. But he’s got a point . . .’

Meaning, thought Rebus, he’s got friends in high places.

‘He’s got a point, and we can do without the media interest that’s bound to erupt. All I’m saying is that we should give the investigation an extra push whenever and wherever we can. Let’s get Glass in custody, let’s make sure we keep everyone informed, and let’s get that autopsy report as soon as humanly possible.’

‘Not so easy with a drowning.’

‘John, you know Dr Curt fairly well, don’t you?’

‘We’re on second-name terms.’

‘How about giving him that extra little nudge?’

‘What happens if he nudges me back, sir?’

Watson looked like a kindly uncle suddenly tiring of a precocious nephew. ‘Nudge him harder. I know he’s busy. I know he’s got lectures to give, university work to do, God knows what else. But the longer we have to wait, the more the media are going to fill the gaps with speculation. Go have a word, John, eh? Just make sure he gets the message.’