“I’m spending two days with DCI Macrae,” Siobhan was saying. “What’s to gloat about?”

Rebus unlocked his car and leaned in to slide the key into the ignition. He straightened again, took a last drag on his cigarette, and flicked the butt onto the roadway. Siobhan was saying something about a Scene of Crime team.

“Hold on,” Rebus told her. “I didn’t catch that.”

“Look, you’ve got enough on your plate without this.”

“Without what?”

“Remember Cyril Colliar?”

“Despite my advancing years, the memory’s not quite packed in.”

“Something really strange has happened.”

“What?”

“I think I’ve found the missing piece.”

“Of what?”

“The jacket.”

Rebus found that he’d lowered himself onto the driver’s seat. “I don’t understand.”

Siobhan gave a nervous laugh. “Me neither.”

“So where are you now?”

“Auchterarder.”

“And that’s where the jacket’s turned up?”

“Sort of.”

Rebus swung his legs into the car and pulled the door shut. “Then I’m coming to take a look. Is Macrae with you?”

“He went to Glenrothes. That’s where the G8 control center is.” She paused. “Are you sure you should be doing this?”

Rebus had started the engine. “I need to make my apologies first, but I can be there inside the hour. Will I have any trouble getting into Auchterarder?”

“It’s the calm before the storm. When you’re driving through town, look for the sign to the Clootie Well.”

“The what?”

“Easier if you just come and see for yourself.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do. Scene of Crime on their way?”

“Yes.”