'John Martyn? Jackie Leven?'
'Even a bit of Hawkwind.'
'My exit music,' Rebus commented with a look close to contentment.
From Hawes and Tibbet, a bottle of 25-year-old malt, and a book of historical walks through Edinburgh. Rebus kissed the bottle and patted the book, then insisted on wearing headphones for the first part of the meal.
'Listening to Jack Bruce beats you lot any day,' he explained.
Just the two bottles of wine with dinner, then back to the Ox, where Gates, Curt and Macrae had arrived, the bar providing a couple of bottles of champagne. Todd Goodyear and his girlfriend
Sonia were the last to arrive. It was almost eleven and Rebus was on his fourth pint. Colin Tibbet was outside, taking gulps of fresh air while Phyllida Hawes rubbed his back encouragingly.
'Looks in a bad way,' Goodyear commented.
'Seven double brandies will do that to a man.'
There was no music, but then it wasn't needed. The various conversations were unforced and full of laughter. Anecdotes were recounted, with the two pathologists telling the best of them. Macrae shook Rebus's hand warmly and told him he had to get home.
'Remember to drop by and see us,' were his parting words.
Derek Starr was standing in a corner, discussing work with a bored-looking Shug Davidson. The fact he'd come at all meant his wine bar chat-ups had failed yet again. Each time Davidson glanced over, Rebus offered him a winced commiseration. When a tray appeared with the next round of drinks, Rebus found himself next to Sonia.
'Todd tells me you work scene-of-crimes,' he said.
'That's right.'
'Sorry I don't recognise the face.'
'I've usually got a hood over my head,' she said with a shy smile.
She was short, maybe five feet, with cropped blonde hair and green eyes. The dress she was wearing looked Japanese, and suited her slight, thin-boned figure.
'How long have you and Todd been an item?'
'A year and a bit.'
Rebus looked over to where Goodyear was handing out drinks.
'Must be doing something right,' he commented.
'He's quite brilliant, you know. CID's got to be the next step.'
'Might be a vacancy,' Rebus conceded. 'So how do you like sceneof-crimes?'
'It's all right.'
'I heard you were at Raeburn Wynd, the night Todorov was killed.'
She nodded. 'And at the canal, too. I was on call-out.'
'Mucked up your plans with Todd,' Rebus sympathised.
'How do you mean?' Her eyes had narrowed.
'Nothing,' Rebus said, wondering if maybe he'd started slurring his words.
'It was me who found the overshoe,' she added. Then her eyes widened and she put her free hand to her mouth.
'Don't worry about it,' Rebus assured her. 'I'm no longer in the frame, apparently.'
She relaxed and gave a little laugh. 'But it says a lot about Todd's skills, don't you think?'
'Absolutely,' Rebus agreed.
'Anything floating in that part of the canal, chances are it would end up getting stuck under the bridge – that's what he said.'
'And he was right,' Rebus admitted.
'Which is why CID would be mad not to take him.'
'Our sanity's often been questioned,' Rebus warned her.
'But you got a result on Todorov,' she stated.
'Yes, we did,' Rebus agreed with a tired smile. Goodyear was chatting to Siobhan Clarke now. Whatever he said made her laugh.
Rebus decided it was time for a cigarette break and reached out to take Sonia's hand, planting a kiss on the back of it.
'The perfect gentleman,' she was saying as he moved towards the door.
'If only you knew, kid…'
Hawes and Tibbet were at the far end of the street, Tibbet with his back to the wall, Hawes in front of him, stroking the hair back from his forehead. A couple of other smokers were watching the show.
'A while since that happened to me,' one said.
“Which?' his neighbour asked. 'Feeling like spewing or having a woman run her fingers through your hair?'
Rebus joined in the laughter and then busied himself with the cigarette. At the other end of the street, the lights were on in the First Minister's residence. A Labour enclave since devolution, it was now under threat from the Nationalists. In fact, Rebus couldn't think of a time when Scotland hadn't returned a Labour majority.
He had voted only three times in his life, each time for a different party. By the time of the devolution referendum, he'd lost all interest.
He'd met plenty of politicians since – Megan Macfarlane and Jim Bakewell were merely the latest examples – but reckoned half the regulars in the Ox would make better legislators. The likes of Bakewell and Macfarlane were a constant, and though Stuart Janney would go to prison, Rebus doubted it would have any real effect on First Albannach. They would continue to work with people like Sergei Andropov and Morris Gerald Cafferty, continue to rake in the bad money with the good. Jobs and prosperity: the majority didn't care how they came into being or were sustained.
Edinburgh had been built on the invisible industries of banking and insurance. Who cared if a few bribes oiled the wheels? What did it matter if some men got together to watch secretly filmed videos?
Andropov had said something about poets seeing themselves as unacknowledged legislators, but surely that title belonged to the men in the pinstripe suits?
'Reckon she's trying to kiss it better?' one of the smokers asked.
Hawes and Tibbet were now in an embrace of sorts, faces pressed together. Good luck to them, Rebus thought to himself. Police work had wedged itself into his own marriage, cracking it wide open, but that didn't have to be the case – he knew plenty of cops who were still married, some of them even wedded to other cops. They seemed to make it work.
'She's doing a good job of it,' the other smoker was answering his neighbour. The door was pulled open behind them and Siobhan Clarke appeared.
'There you are,' she said.
'Here I am,' Rebus agreed.
'We were worried you'd sloped off.'
'I'll just be a minute,' he said, showing her the remaining inch of cigarette.
She had wrapped her arms around herself, protection against the cold. 'Don't worry,' she said, 'we're not having speeches or anything.'
Tou've judged it just right, Shiv,' he assured her. 'Thanks.'
She accepted the praise with a twitch of her mouth. 'How's Colin doing?'
'I think Phyl's resuscitating him.' Rebus nodded in the direction of the two figures, who had now more or less merged into one.
'I hope they don't regret it in the morning,' she muttered.
“What's life without a few regrets?' one of the smokers challenged her.
'They'll put that on my headstone,' his companion stated.
Rebus and Clarke locked eyes again for a few silent moments.
'Come back into the warm,' she told him. He gave her a slow nod, stubbed out the remains of his cigarette and did as he was told.
It was gone midnight when his taxi pulled up outside the Western General Hospital. He got as far as the corridor to Cafferty's ward before one of the nurses stopped him.
Tou've been drinking,' she scolded him.
'Since when did nurses start making diagnoses?'
'I'll have to call security.'
What for?'
W7… j.
Tou can't go visiting a patient in the middle of the night. Not in that state.'
'Why not?'
'Because people are sleeping.'
'I'm not going to start playing the drums,' he protested.
She pointed to the ceiling. Rebus looked, too, and saw that a camera was trained on them. You're being monitored,' she warned him. 'A guard will be here any moment.'
'Christ's sake…'
The doors behind her – the doors to Cafferty's ward – swung open. A man was standing there.
'I'll handle this,' he said.
'Who are you?' she asked, turning to him. 'Who gave you permission to…?' But his warrant card silenced her.
'DI Stone,' he explained. 'This man's known to me. I'll see he doesn't cause further disturbance.' Stone nodded towards a row of chairs, meant for visitors. Rebus decided he could do with a sit down, so didn't argue. When he was seated, Stone nodded, letting the nurse know everything was under control. As she headed off, he sat beside Rebus, leaving one of the chairs empty between them.