The Impossible Dead by Ian Rankin

helping,’ Kaye added. ‘Discretion being the better part of valour and all that.’
    ‘What state was she in when you left?’
    ‘She was a bit shaky.’ Naysmith decided to answer.
    ‘A bit shaky?’ McEwan echoed. ‘Not the screaming abdabs neighbours claim to have heard?’
    ‘She did do some shouting,’ Fox conceded.
    ‘About police intimidation?’
    ‘She misread the situation, sir.’
    ‘Sounds to me like she wasn’t the only one.’ McEwan pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut. He spoke without opening them. ‘This gives them a bit of ammo – you know that?’
    ‘Does the Deputy want us replaced?’
    ‘I think he’s weighing it up.’
    ‘She wouldn’t agree to be interviewed at the station, Bob,’ Fox explained calmly. ‘We had to go to her.’
    McEwan opened his eyes again, blinking as if to regain some focus. ‘You told her Carter was out?’
    ‘That was my fault,’ Naysmith admitted. McEwan gave a little nod of acknowledgement.
    ‘Well,’ he said, ‘best get your side of the story down on paper and we’ll see what Glenrothes thinks. Anything else I should know?’
    Fox and Kaye exchanged a look.
    ‘No, sir,’ Fox stated.
    News of the surveillance operation on Scholes could wait: one little bombshell at a time was probably enough for the boss.
    Later, Fox went to the canteen for coffee, and remembered when he got there that he’d not had anything since breakfast. Egg-and-cress sandwiches were all that remained of the lunch offerings, so he added one to his tray, along with a Kit Kat and a Golden Delicious. When his phone rang, he thought about not answering, but checked the display and recognised the caller.
    ‘Hiya, Evelyn,’ he said.
    ‘Ouch,’ Mills said.
    ‘You’ve heard, then?’
    ‘Not much else being talked about here. Local press seem to be on to it too. You know how that lot will twist it.’
    ‘They can try.’
    ‘Did she seem suicidal?’
    ‘No more than any of us.’ Fox wiped melted chocolate from his fingers on to a napkin. ‘Are you still going to be able to help?’
    ‘Will you still be around for me to help?’
    ‘Hopefully.’
    ‘In that case … we’ll see.’
    ‘What does that mean?’
    ‘It means my boss might get cold feet.’
    ‘Buy him some socks.’
    There was silence on the line until she asked him how he was feeling.
    ‘I’m okay.’
    ‘You don’t exactly sound it.’
    ‘I’ll be all right.’ He looked down at his tray. Only one bite was missing from the sandwich, but the Kit Kat was history. The coffee had an oily sheen to it, and he didn’t feel like starting on the apple.
    ‘All you can do is tell them the truth,’ Mills was saying. ‘Give your side of the story.’
    He could have told her: that was the problem, right there. Every story had a number of sides; your version might differ from everyone else’s. Back in Collins’s flat, had they been pragmatic, cowardly or callous? Others would decide the truth of it – and that might not be the truth at all.
    ‘Malcolm?’
    ‘I’m still here.’
    ‘Do you want someone to talk to? We could meet for a drink.’
    ‘I don’t drink.’
    ‘Since when?’ She sounded genuinely surprised.
    ‘Long before I met you.’
    ‘I must have forgotten.’ She paused. ‘We could still meet, though.’
    ‘Another time, eh?’ Fox thanked her and ended the call, then started rolling the apple across the table, from left hand to right and back again.
    Nobody suggested a trip to Minter’s after work. But as they left the office, Naysmith did something out of the ordinary – reached out his hand for Fox and Kaye to shake. Only afterwards did Fox see it as a reinforcement of the notion that they comprised a team. He drove his Volvo out of the car park and headed for home. He’d almost reached Oxgangs when he found himself turning towards the ring road instead. It was rush-hour busy, but he wasn’t in a hurry, not now that he had made up his mind. He followed the signs for