Rebus sat back. ‘If I want to, I could have a damned good go at putting you in there with them. How would you like that, Dr Colquhoun? Conspiracy to pervert, et cetera.’

Rebus could feel himself relaxing into his work; doing it for Jack.

The solicitor was about to say something, but Colquhoun got in first. ‘It was a mistake.’

‘A mistake?’

Rebus hooted. ‘One way of putting it, I suppose.’

He sat forward, resting his elbows on the table. ‘Time to talk, Dr Colquhoun. You know what they say about confession ...’

Brian ‘Pretty-Boy’ Summers looked immaculate.

He had a lawyer with him, too, a senior partner who looked like an undertaker and wasn’t taking kindly to being kept waiting. As they settled at the table in the Interview Room, and Hogan slotted tapes into cassette machine and video recorder, the lawyer started the protest he’d spent the past hour or two preparing in his head.

‘On behalf of my client, Inspector, I feel duty bound to say that this is some of the most appalling behaviour I’ve -’

‘You think you’ve seen appalling behaviour?’

Rebus answered. ‘In the words of the song, you ain’t seen nothing yet.’

‘Look, it’s clear to me that you -’ Rebus ignored him, slapped the folder down on to the table, slid it towards Pretty-Boy.

‘Take a look.’

Pretty-Boy was wearing a charcoal suit and purple shirt, open at the neck. No sunglasses or car-keys. He’d been brought in from his flat in the New Town. Comment from one of the men who’d gone to fetch him: ‘Biggest hi-fi I’ve seen in my life. Bugger was wide awake, listening to Patsy Cline.’

Rebus started whistling ‘Crazy’: that got Pretty-Boy’s attention and a wry smile, but he kept his arms folded.

‘I would if I were you,’ Rebus said.

‘Ready,’ Hogan said, meaning he had the tapes running. They went through the formalities: date and time, location, individuals present. Rebus looked towards the lawyer and smiled. He looked pretty expensive. Telford would have ordered the best, same as always.

‘Know any Elton John, Brian?’

Rebus asked. ‘He’s got this song: “Someone Saved My Life Tonight”. You’ll be singing it to me once you’ve looked inside.’

He tapped the folder. ‘Go on, you know it makes sense. I’m not playing some trick, and you don’t have to say anything. But you really should do yourself a favour ...’

‘I’ve got nothing to say.’

Rebus shrugged. ‘Just open the folder, take a look.’

Pretty-Boy looked to his lawyer, who seemed uncertain.

‘Your client won’t be incriminating himself,’ Rebus explained. ‘If you want to read what’s in there first, that’s fine. It might not mean much to you, but go ahead.’

The lawyer opened the folder, found a dozen sheets of paper.

‘Sorry in advance for any mistakes,’ Rebus said. ‘I typed it in a bit of a rush.’

Pretty-Boy didn’t so much as glance towards the material. He kept his eyes on Rebus, while the lawyer sifted through the papers.