‘What are you thinking?’ Jean asked, getting into the car and studying the bracelet, holding it up to the light.

‘Nothing,’ Rebus lied. He decided to drive through the village. The Rover and BMW stood drying in the late-afternoon sun. A young couple with two kids stood outside Bev Dodds’s cottage. The father had a video camera in his hand. Rebus gave way to four or five cars, then continued along the road to Meadowside. Three boys – maybe including the two from his previous visit – were playing football on the grass. Rebus stopped and wound down his window, calling out to them. They looked at him, but weren’t about to interrupt their game. He told Jean he’d only be a second, and got out of the car.

‘Hello there,’ he told the boys.

‘Who are you?’ The questioner was skinny, ribs protruding, and thin arms ending in bunched fists. His hair had been shorn to the scalp, and as he squinted into the light he managed to be four-feet-six of aggression and mistrust.

‘I’m the police,’ Rebus said.

‘We haven’t done nothing.’

‘Congratulations.’

The boy kicked the ball hard. It thundered into the upper thigh of one of the other players, leading the third to start laughing.

‘I was wondering if you knew anything about this spate of thefts I’ve been hearing about.’

The boy looked at him. ‘Get a grip,’ he said.

‘With pleasure, son. What’ll it be, your neck or your balls?’ The boy tried for a sneer. ‘Maybe you can tell me something about the church getting vandalised?’

‘No,’ he said.

‘No?’ Rebus sounded surprised. ‘Okay then, last shot … what about this wee coffin that’s been found?’

‘What about it?’

‘Have you seen it?’

The boy shook his head. ‘Tell him to sod off, Chick,’ one of his friends advised.

‘Chick?’ Rebus nodded, to let the boy know he was filing the information away.

‘Never saw the coffin,’ Chick said. ‘No way I’m going to knock on her door.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because she’s well fucking weird.’ Chick laughed.

‘Weird how?’

Chick was losing patience. Somehow he’d been duped into having a conversation. ‘Weird like the rest of them.’

‘They’re all a bunch of tampons,’ his pal said, coming to rescue him. ‘Let’s go, Chick.’ They ran off, collecting the third boy and the ball on their way. Rebus watched for a moment, but Chick didn’t look back. As he returned to the car, he saw that Jean’s window was down.

‘Okay,’ he said, ‘so I’m not the world’s best at asking questions of schoolkids.’

She smiled. ‘What did he mean about tampons?’

Rebus turned the ignition and glanced at her. ‘He meant they’re all stuck-up.’ He didn’t add the final word, didn’t need to. Jean knew exactly what he meant …