Rebus’s sense of desertion was softened when he saw her glance in Jean’s direction: she was leaving the two of them alone, that was all.

‘But I’ll get a round in before I go,’ Siobhan added.

‘Maybe next time,’ Rebus told her with a wink. He sat in silence with Jean until they’d gone, and was about to speak when Devlin came shuffling back.

‘Am I right to assume,’ he said, ‘that my usefulness is now at an end?’ Rebus nodded. ‘In which case, will the files be sent back to their place of origin?’

‘I’ll get DS Wylie to do it first thing,’ Rebus promised.

‘Many thanks then.’ Devlin’s smile was directed at Jean. ‘It’s been a pleasure to have met you.’

‘And you,’ she said.

‘I may pop into the Museum some day. Perhaps you’d do me the honour of showing me round … ?’

‘I’d love to.’

Devlin bowed his head, and started back towards the stairs again.

‘I hope he doesn’t,’ she muttered when he’d gone.

‘Why not?’

‘He gives me the creeps.’

Rebus looked over his shoulder, as though some final view of Devlin might persuade him she was right. ‘You’re not the first to say that.’ He turned back to her. ‘But don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe with me.’

‘Oh, I hope not,’ she said, eyes twinkling above her glass.

They were in bed when the news came through. Rebus took the call, seated naked on the edge of the mattress, uncomfortably aware of the view he was presenting to Jean: probably two spare tyres around his middle, arms and shoulders more fat than muscle. The silver lining was: the view could only be worse from the front …

‘Strangulation,’ he told her, sliding back under the bedclothes.

‘It was quick then?’

‘Definitely. There’s bruising on the neck just at the carotid artery. She probably passed out, then he strangled her.’

‘Why would he do that?’

‘Easier to kill someone when they’re compliant. No struggle.’

‘You’re quite the expert, aren’t you? Ever killed someone, John?’

‘Not so you’d notice.’

‘That’s a lie, isn’t it?’

He looked at her and nodded. She leaned over and kissed his shoulder.

‘You don’t want to talk about it. That’s okay.’

He wrapped his arm around her, kissed her hair. There was a mirror in the room, one of those floor-standing models so you could see yourself head to foot. It faced away from the bed. Rebus wondered if that was on purpose or not, but he wasn’t about to ask.

‘Where’s the carotid artery?’ she asked.

He placed a finger on his own neck. ‘Put pressure on it, the person blacks out in a matter of seconds.’

She felt her neck until she’d found it. ‘Interesting,’ she said. ‘Does everyone except me know that?’

‘Know what?’

‘Where it is, what it does.’