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to.’
    ‘She’s an adult, John. She might even be tougher than either
    you or me.’
    ‘Maybe, but just so you know.’

    ‘We’re friends – that’s as far as it goes.’
    They had turned the corner at the top of the street. There was
    a Sainsbury’s across the road, and Rebus stopped by its door,
    taking a final couple of drags on his cigarette before stubbing it
    out.
    ‘Didn’t even smoke the whole thing,’ he said. ‘Be sure and
    tell her that. You never did answer my question.’
    Fox followed him into the shop. ‘What question?’
    ‘Why do you want to know about the Starks?’
    ‘They arrived in town a couple of days back. Just wondered
    if there might be a reason for them to target Cafferty.’
    Rebus’s eyes narrowed as he picked up a basket. He was
    silent while they perused the first aisle. Instant coffee, a small
    loaf, a litre of milk, packets of link sausages and bacon. As they
    passed by the wine and beer, Rebus gestured with his free hand.
    ‘Tell her I didn’t buy a single can or bottle.’
    At the counter, however, he added a fresh pack of cigarettes
    to his purchases, along with a sausage roll from the hotplate.
    ‘A man has to have some vices,’ he said as they made for the
    exit. Outside, he slid the first inch from its paper bag and took a
    bite. Flecks of pastry broke off and peppered the lapels of his
    coat.
    ‘What do you want me to do?’ he asked.
    Fox slipped his hands into his pockets, hunching his
    shoulders against the stiff breeze. ‘Would Cafferty talk to me
    about the Starks?’
    ‘You think Joe Stark is responsible for last night?’
    ‘Maybe the son. Revenge for some grievance.’
    ‘I’m not sure Dennis would have missed. He’ll have had a
    bit of practice down the years.’

    ‘So it was a warning of some kind, somebody trying to put
    the wind up Cafferty. You have to admit, it’s odd how this
    happens the day after the Starks hit town.’
    ‘There is that,’ Rebus conceded. ‘But say we mention as
    much to Cafferty . . .’
    ‘Yes?’
    ‘Well, he might want to explore the possibility.’
    ‘He might,’ Fox agreed.
    ‘And that could get ugly.’
    Fox was nodding slowly as Rebus chewed on another
    mouthful of food. When the chewing stopped, replaced by a
    widening smile, Fox knew he’d done his job.

    Lunchtime, and the Golden Rule was almost empty. The main
    bar was connected by a set of steps to a larger seated area that
    boasted another bar, only open when the place got busy. They
    had this room to themselves. Cafferty looked comfortable,
    seated at a corner table well away from the window. He had a
    double whisky in front of him. Rebus carried a pint through,
    while Fox, a couple of steps behind him, brought nothing at all.
    ‘Malcolm Fox, isn’t it?’ Cafferty reached out a hand, which
    Fox shook. ‘Out of the Complaints these days, I hear. I suppose
    with John heading into the wilderness, you felt the job had lost
    any sense of challenge.’ He toasted both men and took a sip
    from his glass.
    ‘Thanks for agreeing to meet me,’ Fox said.
    ‘It’s not you I’m meeting, son – it’s your ex-colleague.
    Always worth finding out what’s going on in that head of his.’
    ‘Be that as it may . . .’

    Cafferty was flapping one hand, signalling for Fox to stop.
    There was silence around the table, broken only by the sounds
    of the TV from the distant bar. Eventually Rebus put down his
    glass and spoke.
    ‘A shot was fired at you last night – we all know it. Most of
    your obvious enemies are long gone—’
    ‘Present company excepted,’ Cafferty interrupted, making
    another toast.
    ‘But then DI Fox discovers that Joe Stark is in town, along
    with his son.’
    ‘They’ve not sectioned Dennis yet?’ Cafferty feigned
    surprise.
    ‘We’re wondering if there’s any possible connection,’ Rebus
    continued. ‘I’ve spent half the night turning it over, and I’m not
    coming up with more than two or three names.’
    ‘Ah, now