The ghoul with the scythe ... Rebus picked up Pa Broon, turned the bear in his hands. They sat in silence for a while, until Rhona shifted in her chair.

‘Patience is really nice.’

‘Did the two of you have a good chat?’

She nodded. ‘And you told her what a perfect husband I’d been?’

‘You must be crazy, walking out on her.’

‘Sanity’s never exactly been my strong point.’

‘But you used to know a good thing when you saw it.’

‘Trouble is, that’s never what I see when I look in the mirror.’

‘What do you see?’

He looked at her. ‘Sometimes I don’t see anything at all.’

Later, they took a coffee-break, went to the machine.

‘I lost her, you know,’ Rhona said.

‘What?’

‘Sammy, I lost her. She came back here. She came back to you.’

‘We hardly see one another, Rhona.’

‘But she’s here. Don’t you get it? It’s you she wants, not me.’

She turned away from him, fumbled for her handkerchief. He stood close behind her, then couldn’t think of anything to say. He was all out of words; every line of sympathy rang hollow to him, just another cliche. He touched the back of her neck, rubbed it. She lowered her head a little, didn’t resist. Massage: there’d been a lot of massage early on in their relationship. By the end, he hadn’t even given her time for a handshake.

‘I don’t know why she came back, Rhona,’ he said at last. ‘But I don’t think she was running away, and I don’t think it had much to do with seeing me.’

A couple of nurses ran past, urgency in their movements.

‘I’d better get back,’ Rhona said, rubbing a hand over her face, pulling it into something resembling composure.

Rebus went with her to the room, then said he had to be going. He bent down to kiss Sammy, feeling the breath from her nostrils against his cheek.

‘Wake up, Sammy,’ he cajoled. ‘You can’t stay in bed all your life. Time to get up.’

When there was no movement, no response, he turned and left the room.

17

David Levy was no longer in Edinburgh. At least, he wasn’t at the Roxburghe Hotel. Rebus could think of only one way of contacting him. Seated at his desk, he called the Holocaust Investigation Bureau in Tel Aviv and asked to speak with Solomon Mayerlink. Mayerlink wasn’t available, but Rebus identified himself and said he needed to contact him as a matter of urgency. He got a home telephone number.

‘Is there news on Linzstek, Inspector?’

Mayerlink’s voice was a harsh rasp.

‘Of a kind, yes. He’s dead.’

Silence on the line, then a slow release of breath. ‘That’s a pity.’

‘It 1s?’

‘People die, a little bit of history dies with them. We would have preferred to see him in court, Inspector. Dead, he’s worthless.’ Mayerlink paused. ‘I take it this ends your inquiry?’

‘It changes the nature of the investigation. He was murdered.’