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'Happened to run into him last night.'

'Whereabouts?'

'Caledonian Hotel.'

“Your regular watering-hole?'

'No need for sarcasm, young lady.'

'And you didn't think to let me in on it?'

'I really did just bump into him, Shiv. No big deal.'

'To you maybe, but Andropov seems to think it is, and now Megan Macfarlane thinks so, too.'

'Andropov's Russian, probably used to politicians controlling the police…' Rebus was thinking out loud.

'Macrae wants to see you.'

'Tell him I'm banned from Gayfield.'

'I've told him. He was furious about that, too.'

'Corbyn's fault for not alerting him.'

'That's what I said.'

'Any word from Jim Bakewell's office?'

'No.'

'So what are you up to?'

'Trying to make space for the new recruits. Four have arrived from Torphichen and two from Leith.'

'Anyone we know?'

'Ray Reynolds.'

'He's not even a good imitation of a detective,' Rebus stated. Then he asked her if she was going to do anything about Sol Goodyear.

'Soon as I've worked out what to say to Todd,' she decided.

'Good luck with that.'

One of the CCTV operators suddenly called to her colleague that she had the shoplifter on Camera 10, entering the bus station.

Clarke's groan was almost audible.

“You're at the City Chambers,' she stated.

'We'll make a detective of you yet.'

“You're on suspension, John.'

'It keeps slipping my mind.'

'Studying the tapes from that night?'

'Correct.'

'Trying to place who at the scene exactly?'

'Who do you think?'

'Why in God's name would Cafferty want a Russian poet killed?'

'Maybe he gets annoyed when verses don't rhyme. By the by, here's a strange one for you – that CD Sievewright's flatmate gave me was recorded at Riordan's studio.'

“Yet another coincidence.' But she was silent for a moment.

'Think it's worth talking to the engineer about?'

Tou're mob-handed, Shiv – it's worth chasing every single lead, no matter how brittle.'

'I'm not great at delegating.'

The neither. Still headed straight home from work?'

'That's the plan.'

'I'll be thinking of you, then.'

'John, just promise me one thing – no more drinks at the Caledonian Hotel.'

Tes, boss. Talk to you later.' He ended the call but sat there staring at the phone. Macrae, Macfarlane and Andropov – all annoyed as hell with him.

'Good,' he said quietly, reaching for the next videotape.

'Can I ask you about your brother?'

Clarke had led Todd Goodyear into the corridor for a bit of privacy. She'd already set the new recruits to work. Some were studying the 'bible' – the collating of everything pertaining to the case – while others had been assigned the Riordan tapes. It wasn't exactly a collection of the brightest and the best – no CID unit wanted to give up its star players to a rival team. A detective from Goodyear's own station had recognised him and asked what he thought he was up to, 'masquerading as a proper cop'.

'Sol?' Goodyear was asking now, looking puzzled. 'What about him?'

'He was in a fight – what night was that?'

'Last Wednesday.'

Clarke nodded. Same night Todorov was attacked. 'Can you give me an address for him?'

'What's going on?'

'Turns out he might know Nancy Sievewright.'

'You're kidding me.' He'd started laughing.

'No joke,' she assured him. 'We think he was her dealer. Did you know he was still in the game?'

'No.' The blood was rising up Goodyear's neck.

'So I need his address.'

'I don't know it. I mean, it's somewhere around the Grass market…'

'I thought he lived in Dalkeith.'

'Sol's always on the move.'

'How did you know he'd been in a fight?'

'He called me.'

'So you're still in touch?'

'He has my mobile number.'

'Meaning you've got his?'

Goodyear shook his head. 'He keeps changing it.'

'This fight he had… any idea where it happened?'

'A pub in Haymarket.'

Clarke nodded to herself. The SOCO, Tarn Banks, had got a message about the incident, hadn't he? Mentioned it at the Todorov scene. A stabbing… 'So you don't keep in touch, but he phones you I when he's been stabbed?'

Goodyear ignored this. 'What does it matter if he knows Nancy ievewright?'

'Just another loose end that needs tying.'

We've got more of those than a frayed rug.' Clarke offered up a

tired smile and Goodyear sighed, shoulders slumping. 'When you find Sol's address, do you want me along?'

'Can't happen,' she said. 'You're his brother.'

He nodded his understanding.

'I'm assuming West End took an interest in the stabbing?' she asked. Meaning the police station on Torphichen Place. Goodyear nodded again.

'They asked him a few questions at A amp;E. By the time I saw him, he'd been transferred to a ward. Just the one night, for observation.'

'Do you think he told the officers anything?'

Goodyear shrugged. 'All he said was, he was having a drink and this guy took against him. It moved outside and Sol came off worst.'

'And the other guy?'

'Didn't say anything about him.' Goodyear bit his bottom lip. 'If Sol's connected… does that mean a conflict of interest? Back to my old station and uniform?'

'I'll have to ask DCI Macrae.'

He nodded again, but dolefully this time. 'I didn't know he was still dealing,' he stressed. 'Maybe Sievewright's lying…'

Clarke imagined herself placing a hand on his arm, offering comfort. But in the real world, she just moved past him and back into the already overcrowded CID suite. Chairs had been borrowed from the interview rooms, and she had to weave between them as she made for her desk. There was another officer stationed there.

He apologised but didn't move. Three more detectives were huddled around Rebus's desk. Clarke picked up her phone and called Torphichen. She was patched through to CID and found herself talking to Detective Inspector Shug Davidson.

'Want to thank you,' he chuckled, 'for taking Ray Reynolds off our hands.' She looked across the room towards Reynolds, a detective constable these past nine years, promotion never on the cards. He was standing in front of the Murder Wall and rubbing his stomach as if preparing for another of his infamous belches.

'That's good,' she told Davidson, 'because I'm after a favour in return.'

'What's this I hear about John getting booted into touch?' 'News travels…'

'Age has not softened him – that's a quote from somewhere.'

'Listen, Shug, do you remember last Wednesday night, a fight outside a pub at Haymarket?'

'Sol Goodyear, you mean?'

'That's right.'

Tou've got his brother on secondment, I'm told. Seems like a decent bloke. I think he's embarrassed about Sol – and rightly so.

Sol's got a fair bit of form.'

'So this fight he got into…?'

'If you ask me, there was money owed by one of his punters.

Guy didn't fancy paying up, so decided to have a go at Sol. We're considering making it attempted murder.'

Todd says he was only in hospital the one night.'

'With eight stitches in his side. More of a slice than a proper stabbing, meaning he got lucky.'

Tou caught the attacker?'

'He's pleading self-defence, naturally. Name's Larry Fintry – Crazy Larry, he gets called. Should be in the nut-house, if you ask me.'

'Care in the community, Shug.'

'Aye, with the pharmaceuticals dispensed by Sol Goodyear.'

'I need to speak to Sol,' Clarke said.

'Why's that?'

'The Todorov murder. We think the girl who found the body was on her way to Sol's.'

'More than likely,' Davidson agreed. 'Last address I have for him is Raeburn Wynd.'

Clarke's whole body froze for a moment. 'That's where we found the body.'

'I know.' Davidson was laughing. 'And if Sol hadn't been getting himself stabbed at Haymarket around the exact same time, I might have thought to mention it earlier.'