Partly, yes, I suppose. She's a shrewd one… a bit slow sometimes, but she gets there.'

'And what about evenings.'

'What about them?'

'You don't always spend them at home either, do you? Sometimes you have a night out with friends.'

'Do I?'

'Say, with Barney Byars… with Ronald Steele.'

Kinnoul stared at Rebus, appearing not to understand, then he snapped his fingers. 'Christ, you mean that night. Jesus, the night…' He shook his head. 'Who told you? Never mind, it must have been one or the other. What about it?'

'I just thought you made an unlikely trio.'

Kinnoul smiled. 'You're right there. I don't know Byars all that well, hardly at all really. But that day he'd been in Edinburgh and he'd sewn up a deal… a big deal. We bumped into each other at the Eyrie. I was in the bar having a drink, drowning my sorrows, and he was on his way up to the restaurant. Somehow I got roped in. Him and the firm he'd done the deal with. After a while… well, it was good fun.'

'What about Steele?'

'Well… Barney was planning on taking these guys to a brothel he knew about, but they weren't interested. They went their way, and Barney and me nipped into the Straw-man for another drink. That's where we picked up Ronnie. He was a bit pissed, too. Something to do with the lady in his life…' Kinnoul was thoughtful for a moment. 'Anyway, he's usually a bit of a boring fart, but that night he seemed all right.'

Rebus was wondering: Did Kinnoul know about Steele and Cathy? It didn't look like it, but then the man was an actor, a pro.

'And,' Kinnoul was saying, 'we all ended up going on to the ill-famed house.'

'Did you have a good time?'

Kinnoul seemed to think this an unusual question. 'I suppose so,' he said. 'I can't really remember too clearly.'

Oh, thought Rebus, you can remember clearly enough. You can remember, all right. But now Kinnoul was looking through the hallway at Cathy's still figure.

'You must think I'm a bit of a shite,' he said in a level tone. 'You're probably right. But, Christ…' The actor had run out of words. He looked around the room, looked out of the window at what, weather willing, would have been the view, then looked towards the door again. He exhaled noisily, then shook his head.

'Did you tell the others what the prostitute told you?'

Now Kinnoul looked startled.

'I mean,' said Rebus, 'did you tell them what she said about Gregor Jack?'

'How the hell do you know about that?' Kinnoul fell onto one of the chairs.

'An inspired guess. Did you?'

'I suppose so.' He thought about it. 'Yes, definitely. Well, it was such a strange thing for her to say.'

'A strange thing for you to say, too, Mr Kinnoul.'

Kinnoul shrugged his huge shoulders. 'Just a laugh, Inspector. I was a bit pissed. I thought it would be funny to pretend to be Gregor. To be honest, I was a bit hurt that she didn't recognize Rab Kinnoul. Look at the photos on the wall. I've met all of them.' He was up on his feet again now, studying the pictures of himself, like he was in an art gallery and not seeing them for the thousandth, the ten thousandth time.

'Bob Wagner… Larry Hagman… I knew them all once.' The litany continued. 'Martin Scorsese… the top director, absolutely the top… John Hurt… Robbie Coltrane and Eric Idle…'

Holmes was motioning for Rebus to come into the hall. Cathy Kinnoul was coming round. Rab Kinnoul stood in front of his photographs, his mementoes, the list of names sloshing around in his mouth.

'Take it easy,' Holmes was telling Cathy Kinnoul. 'How do you feel?'

Her speech was slurred to incoherence.

'How many have you taken, Cathy?' Rebus asked. 'Tell us how many?'

She was trying to focus. I've checked all the rooms,' Holmes said. 'No sign of any empty bottles.'

'Well, she's taken something.'

'Maybe the doctor will know.'

'Yes, maybe.' Rebus leaned down close to Cathy Kinnoul, his mouth two inches from her ear. 'Gowk,' he said quietly, 'tell me about Suey.'

The names registered with her, but the question seemed not to.

'You and Suey,' Rebus went on. 'Have you been seeing Suey? Just the two of you, eh? Like the old days? Have you and Suey been seeing one another?'

She opened her mouth, paused, then closed it again, and slowly began to shake her head. She mumbled something.

'What was that, Gowk?'

Clearly this time: 'Rab mussn know.'

'He won't know. Gowk. Trust me, he won't know.'

She was sitting up now, holding her head in one hand while the other hand rested on the floor.

'So,' Rebus persisted, 'you and Suey have been seeing one another, eh? Gowk and Suey?'

She smiled drunkenly. 'Gow' an' Suey,' she said, enjoying the words. 'Gow' an' Suey.'

'Remember, Gowk, remember the day before you found the body? Remember that Wednesday, that Wednesday afternoon? Did Suey come and see you? Did he, Gowk? Did Suey pay a visit that Wednesday?'

'Wensay? Wensay?' She was shaking her head. 'Poor Lizzie… poor, poor…' Now she held her hand palm upwards. 'Gi' me th' knife,' she said. 'Rab'll never know. Gi' me th' knife.'

Rebus glanced at Holmes. 'We can't let you do that, Gowk. That would be murder.'

She nodded. 'Thas right, murder.' She said the final word very carefully, enunciating each letter, then repeated it. 'Cut off his head,' she said. 'An' they'll put me beside Mack.' She smiled again, the thought pleasing her. And all the time Rab Kinnoul's names were drifting from the other room…

'… best, absolutely… like to work with him again. Consummate professionalism… and good old George Cole, too… the old school… yes, the old school… the old school

'Mack…' Cathy Kinnoul was saying. 'Mack… Suey… Sexton… Beggar… Poor Beggar…'

'The old school.'

Some school ties you just kept too long. Way after they should have been thrown out.

Rebus telephoned Barney Byars. The secretary put him through.

'Inspector,' came Byars' voice, all energy and business, 'I just can't shake you off, can I?'

'You're too easy to catch,' Rebus said.

Byars laughed. 'I've got to be,' he said, 'otherwise the clients can't catch me. I always like to make myself available. Now, what's your beef this time?'

'It's about an evening you spent not so long ago with Rab Kinnoul and Ronald Steele…"

Byars was able to substantiate the story in all but the most crucial details. Rebus explained about Kinnoul coming downstairs and repeating what Gail had said to him.

'I don't remember that,' Byars said. 'I was well on by then, mind. So well on I think I stumped up for the three of us.' He chuckled. 'Suey had his usual excuse of being flat broke, and Rab was carrying not more than ten bar by then.' Another chuckle. 'See, I always remember my sums, especially when it's money.'

'But you're sure you don't recall Mr Kinnoul telling you what the prostitute told him?'

I'm not saying he didn't say it, mind, but no, I can't for the life of me remember it.'

Which made it Kinnoul's word against Byars' memory. The only thing for it was to talk to Steele again. Rebus could call in on the way to Patience's. It was a long way round for a shortcut, but it shouldn't take too long. Cathy Kinnoul was another problem. It didn't do to have knife-wielding pill-poppers running around at large. The family doctor, summoned by Holmes, had listened to their story and suggested that Mrs Kinnoul be admitted to a hospital on the outskirts of the city. Would there be any criminal charges…?

'Of course.' said Holmes testily. 'Attempted murder for starters.'

But Rebus was thinking. He was thinking of how badly Cath Kinnoul had been treated. Thinking, too, of all those obstruction charges he might be filing – Hector, Steele, Jack himself. And, most of all, thinking of Andrew Macmillan. He'd seen what 'special hospitals' did with the criminally insane. Cath Kinnoul would be treated anyway. So long as she underwent treatment, what was the point of pressing a charge of attempted murder on her?