Tooth And Nail by Ian Rankin

did.
    ‘Hello, Cath,’ said Flight, trying to regain at least an outer shell of composure. ‘We were just …’
    ‘… talking about me. I know.’ She unfolded her arms and took a couple of steps into the room, extending a hand to Rebus. ‘You must be Inspector Rebus,’ she said. ‘I’ve heard all about you.’
    ‘Oh?’ Rebus looked to Flight, whose attention, however, was fixed on Cath Farraday.
    ‘I hope George here is giving you an easy ride.’
    Rebus shrugged. ‘I’ve had worse.’
    Her eyes became more feline still. ‘I’ll bet,’ she said. She lowered her voice. ‘But watch your back, Inspector. Not everyone’s as nice as George. How would you feel if someone from London suddenly started to poke his nose into one of your cases, hmm?’
    ‘Cath,’ said Flight, ‘there’s no need for …’
    She raised a hand, silencing him. ‘Just a friendly warning, George, one Inspector to another. We’ve got to look after our own, haven’t we?’ She glanced at her watch. ‘Must be going. I’ve a meeting with Pearson in five minutes. Nice to have met you, Inspector. Bye, George.’
    And then she was gone, the door left wide open, a strong perfume lingering in the room. Both men were silent for a moment. Rebus was the first to speak.
    ‘I believe your description was “a cracker”, George. Remind me never to let you arrange a blind date for me.’
    It was late afternoon and Rebus sat in Flight’s office alone, a pad of paper in front of him on the desk. He tapped his pen like a drumstick against the edge of the table and stared at the two names he had written so far.
    Dr Anthony Morrison. Tommy Watkiss.
    These were people he wanted to see. He drew a thick line beneath them and wrote two more names: Rhona. Samantha. These, too, were people he wanted to see, though for personal reasons.
    Flight had gone off to see Chief Inspector Laine on another floor of the building. The invitation did not extend to Rebus. He picked up the last remaining quarter of his salami sandwich, but thought better of it and tossed it into the office’s metal bin. Too salty. And what kind of meat was salami anyway? He now had a craving for more tea. He thought Flight had dialled 18 to order up the first pot, but decided against trying it. He didn’t want to make a fool of himself, did he? It would be just his luck to get through to Chief Superintendent Pearson.
    Just a friendly warning . The point was not lost on Rebus. He crumpled up his list and threw that in the bin too, then got up out of his chair and made for the main office. He knew he should be doing something, or should at least seem to be doing something. They had brought him four hundred miles to help them. But he couldn’t for the life of him see any gaps in their investigation. They were doing everything they could, but to no avail. He was just another straw to be clutched at. Just another chance for that elusive Lucky Break.
    He was studying the wall-map when the voice sounded behind him.
    ‘Sir?’
    He turned to see one of the Murder Room team standing there. ‘Yes?’
    ‘Someone to see you, sir.’
    ‘Me?’
    ‘Well, you’re the most senior detective around at the moment, sir.’
    Rebus considered this. ‘Who is it?’
    The officer checked the scrap of paper in his hand. ‘A Dr Frazer, sir.’
    Rebus considered a moment longer. ‘All right,’ he said, turning back towards the tiny office. ‘Give me a minute and then send him in.’ He stopped. ‘Oh, and bring some tea, will you?’
    ‘Yes, sir,’ said the officer. He waited until Rebus had left the room, then turned to the others, seated at their desks and smiling at him. ‘The cheek of these fucking jocks,’ he said, loud enough for everyone to hear. ‘Remind me to piss in the teapot before I take it in.’
    Dr Frazer turned out to be a woman. What was more, as she entered the office, she was attractive enough to have Rebus half-rise from his desk in welcome.
    ‘Inspector