And now there was Mr Taystee, connecting Sammy to Telford.

Mr Taystee had worked Telford's clubs; Mr Taystee had rejected Sammy. Rebus knew he'd have to talk to the widow.

There was just the one problem. Mr Pink Eyes had intimated that if Telford wasn't left alone, Candice would suffer. He kept seeing images of Candice: torn from home and homeland; used and abused; abusing herself in the hope of respite; clinging to a stranger's legs… He recalled Levy's words: Can time mash array responsibility? Justice was a fine and noble thing, but revenge… revenge was an emotion, and so much stronger than an abstract like justice. He wondered if Sammy would want revenge. Probably not. She'd want him to help Candice, which meant yielding to Telford. Rebus didn't think he could do that.

And now there was Lintz's murder, unconnected but resonant.

`I've never felt comfortable with the past, Inspector,' Lintz had said once. Funny, Rebus felt the same way about the present.

Joanne Tay lived in Colinton: a newish three-bedroomed semi with the Merc still parked in the drive.

`It's too big for me,' she explained to Rebus. `I'll have to sell it.’

He wasn't sure if she meant the house or the car. Having declined her offer of tea, he sat in the busy living-room, ornaments on every flat surface. Joanne Tay was still in mourning: black skirt and blouse, dark grooves beneath her eyes. He'd interviewed her back at the start of the inquiry.

`I still don't know why he did it,' she said now, reluctant to see her husband's death as anything other than suicide.

But the pathology and forensic tests had cast this into doubt.

`Have you ever heard,' Rebus asked, `of a man called Tommy Telford?’

`He runs a nightclub, doesn't he? Gavin took me there once.’

`So Gavin knew him?’

`Seemed to.’

Yes: because no way was Mr Taystee setting up his hot-dog pitch outside Telford's premises without Telford's okay. And Telford's okay almost certainly meant payment of some kind. A percentage maybe… or a favour.

`The week before Gavin died,' Rebus went on, `you said he'd been busy?’

`Working all hours.’

`Days as well as nights?’

She nodded. `The weather was lousy that week.’

`I know. I told him: you'll never get them buying ice-cream, a day like this. Pelting down outside. But still he went out.’

Rebus shifted in his chair. `Did he ever mention SWEEP, Mrs Tay?’

`He had some woman would visit him… red hair.’

'Mae Crumley?’

She nodded, eyes staring at the coal-effect fire. She asked him again if he wanted some tea. Rebus shook his head and made to leave. Did pretty well: knocked over just the two ornaments on his way to the door.

The hospital was quiet. When he pushed open the door to Sammy's room, he saw that another bed had been added, a middle-aged woman sleeping in it. Her hands lay on the bedcovers, a white identity tag around one wrist. She was hooked up to a machine, and her head was bandaged.

Two women were sitting by Sammy's bed. Rhona, and Patience Aitken. Rebus hadn't seen Patience in a while. The women were sitting close together. Their whispered conversation stopped as he came in. He lifted a chair and placed it beside Patience's. She leaned over and squeezed his hand.

`Hello, John.’

He smiled at her, spoke to Rhona. `How is she?’

`The specialist says those last tests were very positive.’

`What does that mean?’

`It means there's brain activity. She's not in deep coma.’

`Is that his version?’

`He thinks she'll come out of it, John.’

Her eyes were bloodshot. He noticed a handkerchief gripped in one hand.

`That's good,' he said. `Which doctor was it?’

`Dr Stafford. He's just back from holiday.’

`I can't keep track of them all.’

Rebus rubbed his forehead.

`Look,' Patience said, checking her watch, `I really should be going. I'm sure the two of you…’

`Stay as long as you like,' Rebus told her.

`I'm already late for an appointment, actually.’

She got to her feet. `Nice to meet you, Rhona.’

`Thanks, Patience.’

The two women shook hands a little awkwardly, then Rhona got up and they hugged, and the awkwardness vanished. `Thanks for coming.’

Patience turned to Rebus. She looked radiant, he decided. Light really seemed to emanate from her skin. She was wearing her usual perfume, and had had her hair restyled.

`Thanks for looking in,' he said.

`She's going to be fine, John.’

She took his hands in hers, leaned towards him. A peck on the cheek, a kiss between friends. Rebus saw Rhona watching them.

`John,' she said, `see Patience out, will you?’

`No, that's all -'

`Of course, yes,' Rebus said.

They left the room together. Walked the first few steps in silence. Patience spoke first.

`She's great, isn't she?’

'Rhona?’

`Yes.’

Rebus was thoughtful. `She's terrific. Have you met her paramour?’

`He's gone back to London. I've… I asked Rhona if she wanted to come stay with me. Hotels can be…’

Rebus smiled tiredly. `Good idea. Then all you'd have to do is invite my brother over and you'd have the whole set.’

Her face cracked into an embarrassed grin. `I suppose it must look a bit like I'm collecting you all.’

`The perfect hand of Unhappy Families.’

She turned to him. They were at the main doors of the hospital. She touched his shoulder. `John, I'm really sorry about Sammy. Anything I can do, you've only got to ask.’

`Thanks, Patience.’

`But asking for things has never been your strong point, has it? You just sit in silence and hope they come to you.’

She sighed. `I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss you. I think that's why I took in Sammy. If I couldn't be close to you, at least I could be close to someone who was. Does that make any sense? Is this where you say something about not deserving me?’

`You've seen the script.’

He pulled back a little from her, just so he could look at her face. `I miss you, too.’

All the nights slumped at the bar, or in his chair at home, the long midnight drives so he could keep his restlessness alive. He'd have the TV and the hi-fi on at the same time, and the flat would still feel empty. Books he tried reading, finding he was ten pages in and couldn't remember anything. Gazing from his window at the darkened flats across the street, imagining lives at rest.

All because he didn't have her.

They embraced in silence for a while. `You're going to be late,' he said.

`God, John, what are we going to do?’

`See one another?’

`That sounds like a start.’

`Tonight? Mario's at eight?’

She nodded and they kissed again. He squeezed her hand. Her head was turned to look at him as she pushed open the doors.

Emerson, Lake and Palmer: `Still… You Turn Me On.’

Rebus felt a little giddy as he walked back to Sammy's room. Only it wasn't any more, wasn't 'Sammy's room'. Now there was another patient there. They'd said there was always that possibility shortage of space, cutbacks. The woman was still asleep or unconscious, breathing noisily. Rebus ignored her and sat where Patience had been sitting.

`I've got a message for you,' Rhona said. `From Dr Morrison.’

`Who's he when he's at home?’

`I've no idea. All he said was, could he have his t-shirt back?’

The ghoul with the scythe… Rebus picked up Pa Broon, turned the bear in his hands. They sat in silence for a while, until Rhona shifted in her chair.

`Patience is really nice.’

`Did the two of you have a good chat?’

She nodded. `And you told her what a perfect husband I'd been?’

`You must be crazy, walking out on her.’

`Sanity's never exactly been my strong point.’

`But you used to know a good thing when you saw it.’

`Trouble is, that's never what I see when I look in the mirror.’