‘That’s right,’ he said, ‘that’s right.’

‘So you’ve nothing to worry about,’ Rebus said, backing off from the table. ‘Unless you know better.’

‘No, I … I’m …’

‘Anyone else in your group like to play games, Albert?’ Siobhan asked.

‘Nobody. I mean, Trist has a few games for his computer, Tomb Raider, that sort of thing. But probably everyone does.’

‘Probably,’ Siobhan admitted. ‘No one else in your circle studies medicine?’

Winfield shook his head, but Siobhan could see he was having a thought. ‘There’s Claire,’ he said. ‘Claire Benzie. I’ve only met her once or twice at parties, but she was a friend of Flip’s … from school days, I think.’

‘And she’s studying medicine?’

‘Yes.’

‘But you don’t really know her?’

‘She’s a year below me, and a different specialism. God, that’s right …’ He looked up at Siobhan, then to Rebus. ‘Of all the bloody things, she wants to be a pathologist …’

‘Yes, I know Claire,’ Dr Curt said, leading them down one of the corridors. They were in part of the medical faculty at the university, in a block behind McEwan Hall. Rebus had been here before: it was where both Curt and Gates had their teaching offices. But he’d never been to the lecture halls. Curt was leading them there now. Rebus had asked if he was feeling better. Gastric problems, Curt had explained. ‘Very pleasant girl,’ he said now, ‘and a good student. I hope she stays with us.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘She’s only in second year, she could yet change her mind.’

‘Are there many female pathologists?’ Siobhan asked.

‘Not many, no … not in this country.’

‘It’s a weird decision to take, isn’t it?’ Rebus said. ‘When you’re that young, I mean.’

‘Not really,’ Curt mused. ‘I was always one for dissecting the frogs at biology.’ He beamed a smile. ‘And I’d rather treat the deceased than the living: no anxious diagnoses, no expectant families, fewer negligence claims …’ He stopped at a set of doors and peered through the glass upper half. ‘Yes, in here.’

The lecture room was small and antiquated: wood veneer on the walls, curved wooden benches rising steeply. Curt checked his watch. ‘Only another minute or two.’

Rebus peered inside. Someone he didn’t know was lecturing to a few dozen students. There were fresh diagrams on the blackboard, and a podium where the lecturer stood brushing chalk from his hands.

‘Not a cadaver on view,’ Rebus commented.

‘We tend to keep those for the practicals.’

‘Are you still having to use the Western General?’

‘We are, and it’s a blessed nuisance with the traffic.’

The autopsy suite at the mortuary was out of commission. Fear of hepatitis allied to a ventilation system past its prime. No sign of funding for a new unit, which meant one of the city hospitals was bearing the brunt of the pathologists’ needs.