‘I still don’t know why he did it,’ she said now, reluctant to see her husband’s death as anything other than suicide.

But the pathology and forensic tests had cast this into doubt.

‘Have you ever heard,’ Rebus asked, ‘of a man called Tommy Telford?’

‘He runs a nightclub, doesn’t he? Gavin took me there once.’

‘So Gavin knew him?’

‘Seemed to.’

Yes: because no way was Mr Taystee setting up his hot-dog pitch outside Telford’s premises without Telford’s okay. And Telford’s okay almost certainly meant payment of some kind. A percentage maybe ... or a favour.

‘The week before Gavin died,’ Rebus went on, ‘you said he’d been busy?’

‘Working all hours.’

‘Days as well as nights?’

She nodded. ‘The weather was lousy that week.’

‘I know. I told him: you’ll never get them buying ice-cream, a day like this. Pelting down outside. But still he went out.’

Rebus shifted in his chair. ‘Did he ever mention SWEEP, Mrs Tay?’

‘He had some woman would visit him ... red hair.’

‘Mae Crumley?’

She nodded, eyes staring at the coal-effect fire. She asked him again if he wanted some tea. Rebus shook his head and made to leave. Did pretty well: knocked over just the two ornaments on his way to the door.

The hospital was quiet. When he pushed open the door to Sammy’s room, he saw that another bed had been added, a middle-aged woman sleeping in it. Her hands lay on the bedcovers, a white identity tag around one wrist. She was hooked up to a machine, and her head was bandaged.

Two women were sitting by Sammy’s bed. Rhona, and Patience Aitken. Rebus hadn’t seen Patience in a while. The women were sitting close together. Their whispered conversation stopped as he came in. He lifted a chair and placed it beside Patience’s. She leaned over and squeezed his hand.

‘Hello, John.’

He smiled at her, spoke to Rhona. ‘How is she?’

‘The specialist says those last tests were very positive.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means there’s brain activity. She’s not in deep coma.’

‘Is that his version?’

‘He thinks she’ll come out of it, John.’

Her eyes were bloodshot. He noticed a handkerchief gripped in one hand.

‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘Which doctor was it?’

‘Dr Stafford. He’s just back from holiday.’

‘I can’t keep track of them all.’

Rebus rubbed his forehead.

‘Look,’ Patience said, checking her watch, ‘I really should be going. I’m sure the two of you ...’

‘Stay as long as you like,’ Rebus told her.

‘I’m already late for an appointment, actually.’

She got to her feet. ‘Nice to meet you, Rhona.’

‘Thanks, Patience.’

The two women shook hands a little awkwardly, then Rhona got up and they hugged, and the awkwardness vanished. ‘Thanks for coming.’

Patience turned to Rebus. She looked radiant, he decided. Light really seemed to emanate from her skin. She was wearing her usual perfume, and had had her hair restyled.

‘Thanks for looking in,’ he said.