‘Yes.’ Costello took another draw, sucking the life from the cigarette. He realised he’d no ashtray and looked around for something suitable: candle-holders, one for Rebus and one for him. Turning from the bookshelves, Rebus’s foot brushed something: a metal toy soldier, no more than an inch high. He stooped to pick it up. The musket had been snapped off, the head twisted over to one side. He didn’t think he was responsible. Rebus placed it quietly on a shelf before sitting down again.

‘Did they cancel the other room then?’ he asked.

‘They sleep in separate rooms, Inspector.’ Costello looked up from where he’d been tidying the tip of the cigarette against the rim of the makeshift ashtray. ‘Not a crime, is it?’

‘I’m not best placed to judge. My wife left me more years ago than I can remember.’

‘I’ll bet you do remember.’

Rebus smiled again. ‘Guilty.’

Costello rested his head against the back of the futon, stifled a yawn.

‘I should go,’ Rebus said.

‘Finish your coffee at least.’

Rebus had already finished it, but nodded anyway, not about to leave unless pushed out. ‘Maybe she’ll turn up. People do things sometimes, don’t they? Take a notion to head for the hills.’

‘Flip was hardly the hill-heading type.’

‘But she could have had a mind to take off somewhere.’

Costello shook his head. ‘She knew they were waiting for her in the bar. She wouldn’t have forgotten that.’

‘No? Say she’d just met someone else … you know, an impulse thing, like in that advert.’

‘Someone else?’

‘It’s possible, isn’t it?’

Costello’s eyes darkened. ‘I don’t know. It was one of the things I thought about – whether she’d met someone else.’

‘You dismissed it?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’

‘Because something like that, she’d have told me. That’s the way Flip is: doesn’t matter if it’s a grand’s worth of designer dress or a Concorde flight courtesy of her parents, she can’t keep it to herself.’

‘Likes attention?’

‘Don’t we all, from time to time?’

‘She wouldn’t pull a stunt, would she, just to get us all looking for her?’

‘Fake her own disappearance?’ Costello shook his head, then stifled another yawn. ‘Maybe I should get some sleep.’

‘What time’s the press conference?’

‘Early afternoon. Something to do with catching the main news bulletins.’

Rebus nodded. ‘Don’t be nervous out there, just be yourself.’

Costello stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Who else could I be?’ He made to hand the packet and lighter back to Rebus.