'Ah, Chief Superintendent.' They shook hands. Watson glanced from Lauderdale to Rebus and back, but there was nothing they could tell him, not yet. Holmes, having laid the tray on the table, was lingering.

'Thank you, Sergeant,' said Lauderdale, dismissing him from the room. In the general melee, Rebus saw that Gregor Jack was looking at him, looking with his sparkling eyes and his little boy's smile. Here we are again, he was saying. Here we are again.

Watson decided to stay. Another cup would be needed, but then Rebus declined the offer of tea, so there was a cup for Watson after all. It was obvious from his face that he would have preferred coffee, his own coffee. But he accepted the cup from Rebus with a nodded thanks. Then Gregor Jack spoke.

'After Inspector Rebus's last visit, I did some thinking. I was able to recall the names of some of the places I went to that Wednesday…' He reached into his jacket's inside pocket and drew out a piece of paper. 'I looked in on a bar in Eyemouth itself, but it was packed. I didn't stay. I did have a tomato juice at a hotel outside the town, but again the bar there was packed, so I can't be sure anyone will remember me. And I bought chewing gum at a newsagent's in Dunbar on the way down. Apart from that, I'm afraid it's pretty vague.' He handed the list to the Chief Superintendent. 'A walk along the front at Eyemouth… a stop in a lay-by just north of Berwick… there was another car in the lay-by, a rep or something, but he seemed more interested in his maps than he did in me… That's about it.'

Watson nodded, studying the list as though it contained exam questions. Then he handed it on to Lauderdale.

'It's certainly a start,' said Watson.

'The thing is, Chief Superintendent,' said Sir Hugh, 'the boy knows he's in trouble, but it seems to me the only trouble he's in stems from trying to help other people.'

Watson nodded thoughtfully. Rebus stood up. 'If you'll excuse me a moment…" And he made for the door, closing it behind him with a real sense of escape. He had no intention of returning. There might be a slap on the wrist later from Lauderdale or Watson – bad manners that, John – but no way could he sit in that stifling room with all those stifling people. Holmes was loitering at the far end of the corridor.

'What's up?' he asked when Rebus approached.

'Nothing to get excited about.'

'Oh.' Holmes looked deflated. 'Only we all thought…'

'You all thought he was coming in to confess? Quite the opposite, Brian.'

'Is Glass going to end up going down for both murders then?'

Rebus shrugged. 'Nothing would surprise me,' he said. Despite his morning shower, he felt grimy and unhealthy.

'Makes it nice and neat, doesn't it?'

'We're the police, Brian, we're not meant to be char ladies.'

'Sorry I spoke.'

Rebus sighed. 'Sorry, Brian. I didn't mean to dust you off.' They stared at one another for a second, then laughed. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. 'Right, I'm off to Queensferry.'

'Autograph-hunting?'

'Something like that.'

'Need a chauffeur?'

'Why not. Come on then.'

A snap decision, Rebus was later to think, which probably saved his life.

11 Old School Ties

They managed not to speak about work on the way out to Queensferry. Instead, they spoke about women.

'What about the four of us going out some night?' Brian Holmes suggested at one point.

'I'm not sure Patience and Nell would get on,' Rebus mused.

'What, different personalities, you mean?'

'No, similar personalities. That's the problem.'

Rebus was thinking of tonight's dinner with Patience. Of trying to take time off from the Jack case. Of not making a Jack-ass of himself. Of jacking it all in…

'It was only a thought,' said Holmes. 'That's all, only a thought.'

The rain was starting as they neared the Kinnoul house. The sky had been darkening for the duration of the drive, until now, it seemed, evening had come early. Rab Kinnoul's Land-Rover was parked outside the front door. Curiously, the door to the house was open. Rain bounced off the car bonnet, becoming heavier by the second.

'Better make a run for it,' said Rebus. They opened their doors and ran. Rebus, however, was on the right side for the house, while Holmes had to skirt around the car first. So Rebus was first up the steps, and first through the doorway and into the hall. He shook his hair free of water, then opened his eyes.

And saw the carving knife swooping down on him.

And heard the shriek behind it.

'Bastard!'

Then someone pushed him sideways. It was Holmes, flying through the doorway. The knife fell into space and kept falling floorwards. Cath Kinnoul fell after it, her weight propelling her. Holmes was on her in an instant, pulling her wrist round, twisting it up against her back. He had his knee firmly on her spine, just below the shoulder blades.

'Christ almighty!' gasped Rebus. 'Jesus Christ almighty.'

Holmes was examining the sprawled figure. 'She took a knock when she fell,' he said. 'She's out cold.' He prised the knife from her grasp and released her arm. It flopped on to the carpet. Holmes stood up. He seemed wonderfully calm, but his face was unnaturally pale. Rebus, meantime, was shaking like a sick mongrel. He rested against the hallway wall and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply. There was a noise at the door.

'Who the -?' Rab Kinnoul saw them, then looked down at the unconscious figure of his wife. 'Oh hell,' he said. He knelt down beside her, dripping rainwater on to her back, her head. He was drenched.

'She's all right, Mr Kinnoul,' Holmes stated. 'Knocked herself out, that's all.'

Kinnoul saw the knife Holmes was holding. 'She had that?' he said, his eyes opening wide. 'Dear God, Cathy.' He touched a trembling hand to her head. 'Cathy, Cathy.'

Rebus had recovered a little. He swallowed. 'She didn't get those bruises from falling though.' Yes, there were bruises on her arms, fresh-looking. Kinnoul nodded.

'We had a bit of a row,' he said. 'She went for me, so I… I was just trying to push her away. But she was hysterical. I decided to go for a walk until she calmed down.'

Rebus had been looking at Kinnoul's shoes. They were caked with mud. There were splashes, too, on his trousers. Go for a walk? In that rain? No. he'd run for it, pure and simple. He'd turned tail and run…

'Doesn't look as though she calmed down,' Rebus said matter of factly. Matter of factly, she had almost murdered him, mistaking him for her husband, or so incensed by then that any man – any victim – would do. 'Tell you what, Mr Kinnoul, I could do with a drink.'

I'll see what there is,' said Kinnoul, rising to his feet.

Holmes phoned for the doctor. Cath Kinnoul was still unconscious. They'd left her lying in the hall, just to be on the safe side. It was best not to move fall victims anyway; and besides, this way they could keep an eye on her through the open door of the living room.

'She needs treatment,' Rebus said. He was sitting on the sofa, nursing a whisky and what were left of his nerves.

'What she needs,' Kinnoul said quietly, 'is to be away from me. We're useless together, Inspector, but then we're just as useless apart.' He was standing with his hands resting against the window sill, his head against the glass.

'What was the fight about?'

Kinnoul shook his head. 'It seems stupid now. They always start with something petty, and it just builds and builds…'

'And this time?'

Kinnoul turned from the window. 'The amount of time I'm spending away from home. She didn't believe there were any "projects". She thinks it's all just an excuse so I can get out of the house.'

'And is she right?'