Even dogs in the wild by Ian Rankin

sounded quite right.
    ‘John,’ Cafferty said quietly. ‘What the hell is this about?’
    ‘Someone thinks you and David Minton wronged them in
    some way, and they’re intent on making you pay.’
    ‘I didn’t know who Minton was until the news told me he
    was dead.’
    ‘You never faced him across a courtroom? He never locked
    up any of your men?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘He’s the law, you’re a gangster – already there’s a
    connection.’ Rebus realised he had taken out his cigarettes, the
    pack and a lighter clutched in the same hand.
    ‘Go ahead if you really need to,’ Cafferty said.
    ‘I can wait.’ Rebus put them away again. ‘The bullet will go
    to ballistics. It’s pretty beaten up, but if the gun’s been used
    before, we might get a match.’
    ‘Okay.’
    ‘And Siobhan’s going to need a proper interview with you –
    on the record.’
    ‘She has to promise the news won’t leak. Last thing I need is
    reporters climbing over me.’
    ‘You know what investigations are like.’
    ‘I know they’re about as watertight as a paper boat.’
    ‘Meaning you’ll have to take your chances. Siobhan will do
    what she can. But if she thinks it’ll help the inquiry to go
    public . . .’
    ‘Aye, fair enough.’ Cafferty looked suddenly tired and old.

    ‘Those two gorillas out front may not be enough. If I were
    you, I’d find somewhere with a bit more anonymity.’
    ‘Maybe a guest house, eh? With the Starks along the
    corridor.’
    ‘You know where they are?’
    ‘I made a few calls – know thy enemy and all that.’
    ‘You think they . . .?’
    ‘How the hell do I know what I think? I think everything .
    Every bastard I ever did wrong to – know how long that list is?’
    ‘A good few of them must be dead – some, only you’ll know
    where the bodies are.’
    ‘You’re about as funny as a coronary.’
    ‘I’d say you’re well on your way to one of those. But getting
    riled isn’t going to help. You’ve really no idea why someone
    would send you that note?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘And when the shot was fired, you didn’t see whoever did
    it?’
    ‘I saw . . . maybe the vaguest shape. A padded coat with a
    hood pulled down low over the head.’
    ‘Male?’
    ‘Judging by the build.’
    ‘Age?’
    ‘No idea. Maybe six foot tall. Just a glimpse as the window
    smashed. But I was ducking, too, and making for the door. I
    wanted to get out of that bloody room.’
    ‘Twenty years ago, you’d have been out of the house and
    chasing him down the street.’
    Cafferty managed a smile. ‘With a cleaver in my hand.’
    ‘If we were to get to the bottom of this, I’d want it to go to
    trial. Wouldn’t look good if the suspect died while on remand.’

    ‘Might be a deal-breaker.’
    Rebus was holding up his phone. ‘Before I call Siobhan, I
    need you to promise.’
    ‘That I won’t whack whoever tried to whack me? I’ll
    promise that if you promise the media won’t get wind of that
    note.’
    ‘Why is it such a problem?’
    ‘Use your loaf, John. With the Starks circling the city? And
    Darryl Christie – I’m assuming you talked to him?’
    ‘He said the bullet was nothing to do with him. He seemed
    antsy, though.’
    ‘Because of the Starks?’
    ‘He seems to think they might try muscling in – with your
    blessing.’
    Cafferty shook his head slowly. ‘Whatever’s going on, I
    can’t afford to look weak, or like I’m suddenly cosying up to
    the law and order brigade.’
    ‘You’ve not completely left the game, then?’
    ‘Neither of us has – or ever could.’ Cafferty managed
    another smile.
    ‘You still reckon one or the other might be behind this?’
    ‘Everything is possible.’
    ‘So where does Lord Minton fit in?’
    ‘Maybe he’d taken backhanders somewhere down the line –
    let off the Starks’ men, or Christie’s. Thinking of making a
    clean breast of it towards the end of his life . . .’ Cafferty
    shrugged. ‘I’m not the detective here.’
    ‘Then