Let It Bleed by Ian Rankin

NOTE: The following summary was copied from the 1996 copyright edition of Let It Bleed:

Little crimes have a way of turning into larger ones, and the first death sows the seeds of those that follow in this latest mystery featuring the internationally acclaimed Inspector Rebus.
Detective Inspector John Rebus understands that murder is usually very simple. Passion and greed are the most common motives, but when the bodies begin to pile up--two suicides, one murder, and the mysterious death of an inmate in one of Scotland's largest prisons--Rebus realizes that there's nothing simple about his latest case.
What Rebus knows is that it all began with a petty embezzlement scheme. What he discovers is that beneath the killings a conspiracy is hidden, one that runs all the way to the top of the political ladder. And the cost of unraveling this complex web could be terrifying high. Everything he holds dear--his job, his life, even his young daughter--is at stake.
Powerful men are telling Rebus to "let it take its course," but none of them will reveal just what "it" is. Rebus stubbornly decides to go forward with his investigation no matter what the cost may be. Men have died for whatever lies at the heart of this plot, and Rebus is determined that those who have set these events in motion will not escape the punishment they deserve.

★ ★ ★ ★ 1/2 (rounded up)
This originally appeared at The Irresponsible Reader.
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He stood there shivering after the warmth of the pub and his car. He was a few yards from where the boys had jumped. The area was cordoned off with metal barriers, anchored by sandbags. Two yellow metal lamps marked off the danger area. Someone had climbed over the barriers and laid a small wreath next to the broken rail, weighing it down with a rock so it wouldn't be blown away. He looked up at the nearest of the two vast supports, red lights blinking at its summit as a warning to aircraft. He didn't really feel very much, except a bit lonely and sorry for himself. The Forth was down there, as judgmental as Pilate. It was funny the things that could kill you: water, a ship's hull, steel pellets from a plastic case. It was funny that some people actually chose to die.

“I could never do it,” Rebus said out loud. “I couldn't kill myself.”

Which didn't mean he hadn't thought of it. It was funny the things you thought about some nights. It was all so funny, he felt a lump forming in his throat. It's only the drink, he thought. It's the drink makes me maudlin. It's only the drink.

Let it Bleed