Exit Music

The machine didn't have much of a loudspeaker, and they leant down either side of it, the better to listen. Clarke could hear chinks and clinks and distant, indistinguishable voices.

'A pub or a cafe or something,' Goodyear commented. The hubbub continued for a few more minutes, interrupted only by a cough much closer to the microphone.

'Riordan, presumably,' Clarke offered.

Getting bored, she told Goodyear to fast forward. Same location, same clutter of the overheard everyday.

Tfou couldn't dance to it,' Goodyear admitted. Clarke got him to eject the tape and turn it over. They appeared to be in a railway station. There was the platform master's loud whistle, followed by the sound of a train moving off. The microphone then headed back to the station concourse, where people mingled and waited, probably watching the arrivals or departures board. Someone sneezed and Riordan himself said, 'Bless you.' A couple of women were caught in the middle of a conversation about their partners, and the mic seemed to follow them as they headed for a food kiosk, discussing which filled baguettes took their fancy. Purchases made, it was back to gossiping about their partners again as they queued for coffee at a separate kiosk. Clarke heard the espresso machine at work, a sudden a

'Must be Waverley,' she said.

'Could be Haymarket,' Goodyear hedged.

'Haymarket doesn't have a sandwich bar as such.'

'I bow to your superior knowledge.'

'Even when I'm wrong, you should bow anyway.'

He did so, giving a courtier-style flourish of the hand, and she smiled.

'He was obsessive,' Clarke stated, Goodyear nodding his agreement.

You really think his death is linked to Todorov?' he asked.

'As of this moment, it's a coincidence… but there are precious few murders in Edinburgh – now we get two in a matter of days, and the victims just happen to know one another.'

'Meaning you don't really think it's coincidence at all.'

'Thing is, Joppa is a D Division call, and we're B Division. If we don't argue our corner, Leith CID will take it.'

'Then we should claim it.'

'Which means persuading DCI Macrae that there's a co

She stopped the tape and ejected it. 'Reckon they're all going to be like that?'

'Only one way to find out.'

'There'll be hundreds of hours of the stuff.'

We don't know that; fire could have made a lot of it unlistenable.

Best for one of us to check it first, then pass anything difficult on

to Forensics or the engineer at Riordan's studio.'

'True.' Clarke still didn't share Goodyear's enthusiasm. She was thinking back to her own days in uniform… not that long ago, really, in the span of things. She'd been every bit as keen as Goodyear, confident that she would make a difference to each and every case – and maybe, just now and then, a telling difference.

It had happened sometimes, but the glory had been grabbed by someone more senior – not Rebus, she was thinking back to before their pairing. Her at St Leonard 's, being told that it was all about teamwork, no room for egos and prima do

Wiring gone bad: a fair description of Rebus himself at times.

Bringing with him to St Leonard 's his mistrust of 'teamwork', his two-decades-plus of bets hedged, lines crossed and rules broken.

And at least one very personal vendetta.

Goodyear was suggesting they give one of the little digital recorders a listen. There was no external speaker, but the headphones from Goodyear's iPod fitted one of the sockets. Clarke didn't really fancy pushing the little buds into her own ears, so told him he could do the listening. But after about half a minute and the pressing of buttons in various configurations, he gave up.

'That's one for our friendly specialist,' he said, moving to the next machine.

'I meant to ask,' Clarke said, 'how you felt meeting Cafferty.'

Goodyear considered his answer. 'Just looking at him,' he said eventually, 'you can see he's full of sin. It's in his eyes, the way he looks at you, the way he carries himself…'

You judge people by the way they look?'

'Not all the time.' He did a bit more button-pushing, earphones still in place, and then held up a finger to let her know he was getting something. After a moment's listening he made eye contact. 'You're not going to believe this.' He unplugged himself and offered her the earphones. Reluctantly, she held them either side of her head, close to her ears but not touching. He'd rewound a little, and now she heard voices. Ti

'After you split up, Mr Todorov headed straight for the bar at the Caledonian. He got talking to someone there…

'That's me,' she said. 'He told us he wasn't recording!'

'He lied. People do sometimes.'

Clarke gave him a scowl and listened to a bit more, then told Goodyear to fast forward. He did, but there was silence.

'Go back again,' she ordered.

What was she hoping for? Riordan's last moments, captured for posterity? His attacker's voice? Riordan gaining some measure of justice from beyond the grave?

Only silence.

'Further back.'

Clarke and Goodyear himself, winding up their questioning of Riordan in his living room.

'We're the last thing on it,' she stated.

'Does that make us suspects?'

'Any more wisecracks, you're back in the woolly suit,' she warned him.

Goodyear looked contrite. 'Woolly suit,' he repeated. 'I've not heard that one before.'

'Picked it up from Rebus,' Clarke admitted.

So many things he'd given her… not all of them useful.

'I don't think he likes me,' Goodyear was telling her.

'He doesn't like anyone.'

'He likes you,' Goodyear argued.

'He tolerates me,' Clarke corrected him. 'Different thing entirely.'

She was staring at the machine. 'I can't believe he recorded us.'

'If you ask me, not being recorded by Mr Riordan would have put us in the minority.'

'True enough.'

Goodyear picked up another of the clear plastic sacks and gave it a shake. 'Plenty more for us to listen to.'

She nodded, then leaned across and patted his shoulder. 'Plenty for you to listen to, Todd,' she corrected him.

'Learning curve?' he guessed.

'Learning curve,' she agreed.

'Want to do something tonight?' Phyllida Hawes asked. She was driving, Colin Tibbet her passenger. It a

Serve him right for doubting her. One time, he'd told her she drove as though they'd just nicked the car from a forecourt.

'Could go for a drink,' he offered.

'Now there's a novelty.'

'Or we could not go for a drink.' He thought for a moment.

'Chinese? Indian?'

'With ideas as radical as these, Col, you should be ru

Tou're in a mood,' he stated.

'Am I?' she replied icily.

'Sorry,' he said.

Another thing that was starting to a

Until eight weeks back, Hawes had had a lover – a live-in lover at that. Colin had managed a few single-nighters and one girl who'd actually stuck with him for the best part of a month. Somehow, three weeks ago, they'd fallen into bed together after a night on the piss. Neither had really recovered from it since waking up, faces an inch apart, horror dawning.