her glass, but she didn't want any.
'Shame to waste it,' he said.
'You have it.'
'I don't want it.' She stared at him, and he offered a smile. 'I've spent half of this evening avoiding going out for a drink,' he explained.
'Why?'
He just shrugged, and she took the bottle from him. 'Then let's put it out of harm's way.'
When he caught up with her, she was pouring the contents down the kitchen sink.
'Bit radical,' he said. 'The fridge would have done.'
'You don't chill red wine.'
'You know what I mean, though.' He saw the clean dishes on the draining board. Her supper things had already been washed up. The kitchen was white-tiled and spotless. 'We're chalk and cheese,' he said.
'How's that?'
'I only wash up when I run out of mugs.'
She smiled. 'I've always wanted to be a hygiene slut.'
'But?'
She shrugged, surveying the room. 'Must be my upbringing or something. I suppose some people would call me neurotically tidy.'
'They just call me a slob,' Rebus said.
He watched her rinse the bottle and place it beside a few others which, along with empty jars, sat in an orange-box beside the swingbin.
'Don't tell me,' he said: 'recycling?'
She nodded, laughed. Then her face crumpled into seriousness. 'Jesus, John, I only went out with him three times.'
'Sometimes that's all it takes.'
'You know where I met him?'
'You wouldn't tell me, remember?'
'I'll tell you now: it was at a singles club.'
'That night you were out with the rape victim?'
'He goes to this singles club. They don't know he's a cop.'
'Well, it shows he has trouble meeting women.'
'He meets them every day, John.' She paused. 'I don't know, maybe it shows something else.'
'What?'
'I'm not sure. A different side to him.' She leaned back against the sink, folded her arms. 'Remember what you said?'
'I say so many memorable things.'
'You said about jilted guys, what they do sometimes.'
'You think Linford's been jilted one time too many?'
'Maybe.' She was thoughtful. 'But I was thinking more of the rapist, why he seems to focus on singles nights.'
Rebus was concentrating now. 'He went along to one, got the cold shoulder?'
'Or his wife or girlfriend went to one...'
Rebus was nodding. 'And got a nice warm shoulder?'
Siobhan was nodding, too. 'It's not my case, of course...'
'But whoever's running it, Siobhan, they'll have been asking around all the singles clubs.'
'Yes, but they won't have been asking the female members about jealous partners.'
'Good point. Another job for the morning.'
'Yes,' she said, turning to fill the kettle, 'just as soon as I've had a word with dear old Derek.'
'And if he denies it?'
'I've got corroboration, John.' She looked at him over her shoulder. 'I've got you.'
'No, you've got me and a few suspicions of your own. Not exactly the same thing.'
'What are you getting at?'
'People know Linford and me haven't been getting on like a house on fire. Now I come along and say I've seen him playing peeping Tom. You don't know Fettes, Siobhan.'
'They look after their own?'
'Maybe, maybe not. But they definitely would think more than twice about taking the word of John Rebus over that of a future chief constable.'
'Is that why you wouldn't tell me about Iinford?'
'Maybe.'
She turned away from him again. 'How do you want your coffee?'
'Black.'
Derek Linford's flat looked down on to Dean Valley and the Water of Leith. He'd got a good deal on the mortgage - playing the Fettes card for all it was worth - but even so he was making hefty repayments. And with the BMW on top. He had so much to lose.
He'd stripped off his coat and his shirt, sweating after the drive home. She'd seen him at the window, then made a phone call. And he'd run for it, driving like a maniac, taking the stairs to his own flat two at a time... and his own phone was ringing. He'd snatched at it, thinking: it's Siobhan! She's seen someone and decided to call me, wanting my help! But the phone had gone dead, and when he'd checked, it had been her on the phone. He'd called straight back and she hadn't answered.
Standing shaking by his window, ignoring the rooftop view... She knows it was me! It was all he could think of. She wouldn't have been calling him for help; she'd have called Rebus. And of course Rebus had told her. Of course he had.
'She knows,' he said aloud. 'She knows, she knows, she knows.'
He walked across the living room, turned and walked back. His right fist was slapping into his open left hand.
He had so much to lose.
'No,' he said, shaking his head, getting his breathing back under control. He wasn't going to lose any of this. Not for anyone or anything. This was all he had to show for the years of work, the long nights, the weekends, the courses and the studying.
'No,' he said again. 'Nobody's taking this away.
Not if he could help it.
Not without one hell of a fight.
They rang up to Cafferty's room, told him there was a problem in the bar. He got dressed, went down there, and found Rab being pinned to the floor by two of the barmen and a couple of customers. Another man was seated on the floor near by, legs splayed, his nose bust open but holding his ear, blood seeping out between the fingers. He was yelling out for someone to call the police, while his girlfriend knelt beside him.
Cafferty looked at him. 'What you need is an ambulance,' he said.
'Bastard bit my ear!'
Cafferty crouched in front of the man, held two fifties out, and then tucked them into the man's breast pocket. 'An ambulance,' he repeated. The girlfriend took the hint, got up to find the phone. Then Cafferty walked over to Rab, squatted down and took hold of him by the hair. 'Rab,' he said, 'what the fuck are you doing?'
'I was just enjoying masel, Big Ger.' There was a smear of blood on his lips; blood from the wounded man's ear. 'No fun for anyone else,' Cafferty told him. 'What's life if ye can't enjoy yirsel?' Cafferty stared at him but didn't answer. 'See when you go getting like this,' he said quietly, 'I don't know what I'm going to do with you.'
'Does it matter?' Rab said.
Cafferty didn't answer this either. He told the men they could let go, and they did, cautiously. Rab didn't seem inclined to get up. 'Maybe you could help him,' Cafferty told the men. He had a bundle of notes out, peeled off several and handed them round.
