Ian Rankin - Hide And Seek

‘Don’t let him near me!’ he yelled.

‘Now, John — ’ started one detective, a Sergeant Dick. Rebus held up a hand to show that he was not here to cause violence. The detectives eyed one another, not sure whether to believe him. Then Rebus spoke, his eyes on the teenager.

‘You’re going to get what’s coming to you, so help me.’ There was calm, lucid anger in Rebus’s voice. ‘I’m going to have you by your balls for this, son. You better believe that. Really, you better.’

The teenager saw now that the others would restrain Rebus, that the man himself presented an empty physical threat. He sneered.

‘Yeah, sure,’ he said dismissively. Rebus lurched forward, but Holmes’s hand was rigid against his shoulder, pulling him back.

‘Leave it be, John,’ the other detective, DC Cooper, cautioned. ‘Just let the wheels grind round. It won’t take long.’

‘Too long though,’ Rebus hissed, as Holmes pulled him out of the room, closing the door after them. Rebus stood in the shadowy corridor, all rage spent, head bowed. It was so very hard to believe….

‘Inspector Rebus!’

Rebus and Holmes both jerked their heads towards the voice. It belonged to a WPC. She looked scared, too.

‘Yes?’ Rebus managed, swallowing.

‘The Super wants to see you in his office. I think it’s urgent.’

‘I’m sure it is,’ said Rebus, walking towards her with such menace that she retreated hurriedly, back towards the reception area and daylight.

‘It’s a bloody set-up, with all due respect, sir.’

Remember the golden rule, John, Rebus thought to himself: never swear at a superior without adding that ‘with all due respect’. It was something he’d learned in the Army. As long as you added that coda, the brass couldn’t have you for insubordination.

‘John.’ Watson interlaced his fingers, studying them as if they were the latest craze. ‘John, we’ve got to investigate it. That’s our duty. I know it’s daft, and everyone else knows it’s daft, but we’ve got to show that it’s daft. That’s our duty.’

‘All the same, sir — ’

Watson cut him off with a wave of his hand. Then started twining fingers again.

‘God knows, you’re already “suspended” from duty as it is, until our little campaign gets into full swing.’

‘Yes, sir, but this is just what he wants.’

‘He?’

‘Some man called Hyde. He wants me to stop poking about in the Ronnie McGrath case. That’s what this is all about. That’s why it’s a set-up job.’

‘That’s as maybe. The fact remains, a complaint has been made against you — ’

‘By that little bastard downstairs.’

‘He says you gave him money, twenty pounds, I believe.’

‘I did give him twenty quid, but not for a shag, for Chrissake!’

‘For what then?’

Rebus made to answer, but was defeated. Why had he handed the teenager called James that money? He’d set himself up, all right. Hyde couldn’t have done it better himself. And now James was downstairs, spilling his carefully rehearsed story to CID. And say what you liked, mud stuck. By Christ, it didn’t half. No amount of soap and water would clean it off. The little toerag.

‘This is playing right into Hyde’s hands, sir,’ Rebus tried: one last shot. ‘If his story’s true, why didn’t he come in yesterday? Why wait till today?’

But Watson was decided.

‘No, John. I want you out of here for a day or two. A week even. Take a break. Do whatever you like, but leave well alone. We’ll clear it up, don’t worry. We’ll break his story down into pieces so small he won’t be able to see them any more. One of those pieces will snap, and with it, his whole story. Don’t you worry.’

Rebus stared at Watson. What he said made sense; more than that, it was actually fairly subtle and shrewd. Maybe the Farmer wasn’t so agricultural in his ways after all. He sighed.

‘Whatever you say, sir.’

Watson nodded, smiling.

‘By the way,’ he said. ‘Remember that fellow Andrews, ran a club called Finlay’s?’

‘We had lunch with him, sir.’

‘That’s right. He’s invited me to apply for membership.’

‘Good for you, sir.’

‘Apparently the waiting list’s about a year long — all these rich Sassenachs coming north — but he said he could do a bit of pruning in my case. I told him not to bother. I seldom drink, and I certainly don’t gamble. Still, a nice gesture all the same. Maybe I should ask him to consider you in my place. That’d give you something to do with your time off, eh?’

‘Yes, sir.’ Rebus seemed to consider the suggestion. Booze and gambling: not a bad combination. His face brightened. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said. ‘That would be very kind of you.’

‘I’ll see what I can do then. One last thing.’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Are you intending to go to Malcolm Lanyon’s party tonight? Remember, he invited us at The Eyrie?’

‘I’d forgotten all about it, sir. Would it be more … proper for me to stay away?’

‘Not at all. I may not manage along myself, but I see no reason why you shouldn’t attend. But not a word about….’ Watson nodded towards the door, and by implication to the interview room beyond.

‘Understood, sir. Thank you.’

‘Oh, and John?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Don’t swear at me. Ever. With respect or otherwise. Okay?’

Rebus felt his cheeks reddening, not in anger but in shame. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, making his exit.

Holmes was waiting impatiently in Rebus’s office.

‘What did he want then?’

‘Who?’ Rebus was supremely nonchalant. ‘Oh, Watson you mean? He wanted to tell me that he’s put my name forward for Finlay’s.’

‘Finlay’s Club?’ Holmes’ face was quizzical; this wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all.

‘That’s right. At my age, I think I deserve a club in town, don’t you?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Oh, and he also wanted to remind me about a party tonight at Malcolm Lanyon’s place.’

‘The lawyer?’

‘That’s him.’ Rebus had Holmes at a disadvantage, and knew it. ‘I hope you’ve been busy while I’ve been having a chinwag.’

‘Eh?’

‘Hydes and Jekylls, Brian. I asked you for addresses.’

‘I’ve got the list here. Not too long, thank the Lord. I suppose I’m going to be Shoeleather on this one?’

Rebus looked flabbergasted. ‘Not at all. You’ve got better things to be doing with your time. No, I think this time the shoeleather ought to be mine.’

‘But … with respect, shouldn’t you be keeping out of things?’

‘With respect, Brian, that’s none of your bloody business.’

From home, Rebus tried phoning Gill, but she couldn’t be reached. Keeping out of things, no doubt. She had been quiet during the drive home last night, and hadn’t invited him in. Fair enough, he supposed. He wasn’t about to take advantage…. So why was he trying to telephone her? Of course he was trying to take advantage! He wanted her back.

He tidied the living room, did some washing up, and took a binbag‘s-worth of dirty washing to the local laundrette for a service wash. The attendant, Mrs Mackay, was full of outrage about Calum McCallum.

‘Yon’s a celebrity and a’. They should ken better.’

Rebus smiled and nodded agreement.

Back in the flat, he sat down and picked up a book, knowing he wouldn’t be able to keep his mind on it. He didn’t want Hyde to win, and, kept away from the case, that’s exactly what would happen. He took the slip of paper from his pocket. There were no people with the surname Jekyll in the Lothians, and a scant dozen with the surname Hyde. At least, those were the ones he could be sure about. What if Hyde possessed an unlisted number? He’d get Brian Holmes to check the possibility.