“Understood.”

Templer looked past him to where Siobhan was still standing. “Meantime, maybe DS Clarke will shed some light -”

Rebus cleared his throat. “Might be a problem there, ma’am.”

“In what way?”

Rebus held up his arms again and turned his wrists slowly. “I might be all right for holding Bobby Hogan’s hand, but I’ll need a bit of help for everything else.” He half turned in the chair. “So if I could just borrow DS Clarke for a little while…”

“I can get you a driver,” Templer snapped.

“But for writing notes… making and taking calls… needs to be CID. And from what I saw in the office, that narrows things down.” He paused. “With your permission.”

“Get out then, the pair of you.” Templer made a show of reaching for some paperwork. “Soon as there’s news from the fire investigators, I’ll let you know.”

“Very decent of you, boss,” Rebus said, rising to his feet.

Back in the CID room, he had Siobhan slide a hand into his jacket pocket, bringing out a small plastic jar of pills. “Bastards measured them out like gold,” he complained. “Get me some water, will you?”

She fetched a bottle from her desk and helped him wash down two tablets. When he demanded a third, she checked the label.

“Says to take two every four hours.”

“One more won’t do any harm.”

“Not going to last long at this rate.”

“There’s a prescription in my other pocket. We’ll stop at a chemist’s once we’re on the road.”

She screwed the top of the jar back on. “Thanks for taking me with you.”

“No problem.” He paused. “Want to talk about Fairstone?”

“Not particularly.”

“Fair enough.”

“I’m assuming neither of us is responsible.” Her eyes bored into his.

“Correct,” he said. “Which means we can concentrate on helping Bobby Hogan instead. But there’s one last thing before we start…”

“What?”