‘I’m just saying others might not believe it.’

‘A few more days, I’ll have enough money to fund the book for another month.’

Farlowe had finished his soup. He carried the empty bowl over to the sink, stood next to Rebus.

‘I don’t want this to be a problem, but the bottom line is: what can you do about it?’

Rebus stared at him. His instinct was to stuff Farlowe’s head into the sink, but how would that look with Sammy? ‘Now,’ Farlowe said, ‘do I get to ask my question?’

‘What is it?’

‘Who’s Candice?’

‘A friend of mine.’

‘So what’s wrong with your flat?’

Rebus realised he was no longer dealing with his daughter’s boyfriend. He was confronted with a journalist, someone with a nose for a story.

‘Tell you what,’ said Rebus, ‘say I didn’t see you in the cemetery. Say we didn’t just have this little chat.’

‘And I don’t ask about Candice?’

Rebus stayed quiet. Farlowe considered the deal. ‘Say I get to ask you a few questions for my book.’

‘What sort of questions?’

‘About Cafferty.’

Rebus shook his head. ‘I could talk about Tommy Telford though.’

‘When?’

‘When we’ve got him behind bars.’

Farlowe smiled. ‘I could be on the pension by then.’

He waited, saw Rebus was going to give him nothing.

‘She’s only here till tomorrow anyway,’ Rebus said.

‘Where’s she off to?’

Rebus just winked. Left the kitchen, returned to the living-room. Talked to Sammy while Candice’s game show reached its climax. Whenever she heard audience laughter, she joined in. Rebus made arrangements for the following day, then left. There was no sign of Farlowe. He’d either hidden himself in the bedroom or else gone back out. It took Rebus a few moments to remember where he’d parked his car. He drove home carefully; stopped for all the lights. The parking spaces were all taken in Arden Street. He left the Saab on a yellow line. As he approached his tenement door, he heard a car door open and spun towards the sound.

It was Claverhouse. He was on his own. ‘Mind if I come in?’

Rebus thought of a dozen reasons for saying yes. But he shrugged and made for the door. ‘Any news of the stabbing at Megan’s?’ he asked.

‘How did you know we’d be interested?’

‘A bouncer gets stabbed, the attacker flees on a waiting motorbike. It was premeditated. And the majority of the bouncers work for Tommy Telford.’

They were climbing the stairs. Rebus’s flat was on the second floor.

‘Well, you’re right,’ Claverhouse said. ‘Billy Tennant worked for Telford. He controlled the traffic in and out of Megan’s.’

‘Traffic as in dope?’

‘The footballer’s friend, the one who got wounded, he’s a known dealer. Works out of Paisley.’

‘Therefore connected to Telford, too.’

‘We’re speculating he was the target, Tennant just got in the way.’

‘Leaving only one question: who was behind it?’

‘Come on, John. It was Cafferty, obviously.’

‘Not Cafferty’s style,’ Rebus said, unlocking his door.