Иэн Рэнкин - In a House of Lies

‘Oh aye? And?’

‘There isn’t one.’

‘Did that come as a surprise?’

‘Not in the least. But knowing how frugal you are...’

‘Tell me.’

‘You could FaceTime for free.’

‘I’m still getting the hang of phones without wires, Christine — don’t start bamboozling me.’

‘Well,’ Clarke said, ‘I thought Zombies v Bravehearts was bad, but it was Gregory’s Girl by comparison.’ The end credits had finished and the DVD’s main menu was showing on her TV screen. She was seated on the sofa next to Rebus. He had nodded off for a couple of minutes in the middle and missed absolutely nothing. She stepped over the dozing Brillo, crossed to her living room window and closed the curtains against the Edinburgh night.

‘Looked like they shot some of it in Craigmillar,’ Rebus said, popping open the empty DVD case. ‘Must have saved a fortune, not needing make-up for the demons.’

‘The two male leads were the same as in Bravehearts .’

‘Neither seems to have become box office gold.’

‘I googled them — they’re not actors any more.’

‘Were they ever?’ Rebus poured the last dregs of his solitary bottle of IPA into the glass. Clarke had managed two gins before switching to tonic only. The evening had been her idea — the still centre Rebus had told her to find. A couple of microwaved ready meals followed by the film. She checked her copious notes.

‘As for the female cop... procedure wasn’t exactly her strong point.’

‘I’d say the camera’s interest was in the two strong points at the tips of her breasts.’

Clarke writhed in mock distaste. ‘Fifteen minutes ten and twenty-six minutes forty,’ she intoned. ‘The two scenes where we see the handcuffs. Second one is the best.’ She used the remote to skip through the film. ‘Here we go.’ After a few seconds, she hit the pause button. ‘Nice close-up.’

The film’s heroine had apprehended a thug after a chase and had him on the ground, pulling handcuffs from her belt and clamping them around the man’s wrists.

‘They look pretty real, don’t they?’ Rebus asked. ‘The same kind we used back in the day?’

‘They’re not from a joke shop,’ Clarke replied. ‘If that’s what you’re asking.’

‘So where did they come from?’

‘Something we need to find out. We can’t prove they’re the same ones Bloom was wearing, though I’d swear they’re the exact same model. Plus, say they are the same ones, the fact that they’re in this film would explain how Ness’s prints could have got on them.’ Clarke was kneeling only a foot or so from the TV screen. She gestured towards it. ‘It would help if we knew what happened to them after this.’

‘Ness is the obvious person to ask.’

‘Tomorrow for definite. Sorry you weren’t there when we brought in Cafferty.’ She returned to the sofa and lifted her glass.

‘You’re forgiven. I take it he gave you hee-haw?’

‘He admitted knowing Conor Maloney, for what it’s worth.’

‘You could have FaceTimed me and let me listen.’

Clarke smiled. ‘Suddenly you’re an expert on FaceTime?’

‘Since a few hours back, aye. Christine’s been mentoring me.’

‘Oh?’

‘There’s nothing I don’t know about Ribbit, Pratchat and what have you.’

‘Wonders never cease,’ Clarke said with a smile. ‘So you’ve got her checking Ellis’s online history?’

‘She’s being a bit more thorough than that.’

‘I’d best say thank you next time I see her, then.’ She paused. ‘So what else is happening with Ellis Meikle?’

‘I’ve been on it all day.’

‘Not just leaving it to Christine?’

‘Perish the thought.’

‘Any conclusions?’

‘Just that you can tell Dallas Meikle you’ve earned his cooperation.’

‘They were questioned today, too — Steele and Edwards.’

‘Articulate and charming as ever?’

‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if Ness had got the cuffs from one of them?’

‘They didn’t know Ness, though.’

‘They knew Adrian Brand.’

‘Yes, so why would they do anything for Brand’s sworn enemy?’

Clarke didn’t know the answer to that. ‘I want them hurt,’ she said instead.

‘Really? I’d never have guessed. Now can I have that second beer I made you promise not to hand over, no matter how much I begged?’

‘Over my dead body,’ Clarke said, rising to her feet. ‘I’ll make us a cup of tea instead.’

When she left the room, Rebus leaned down to give Brillo a rub.

‘Nearly time to go home,’ he explained as the dog raised his head. ‘And Siobhan’s going to have to vacuum this carpet by the look of it.’ He raked his fingers across the floor, scooping up as much dog hair as he could, while thinking back to Charles Meikle’s flat with its neat and tidy kitchen. The residue of oil on the mechanic’s knuckles would have left marks on the worktop. Everyone left traces. The handcuffs were still on the TV screen. Police issue. CID or uniform, you’d know where to find some. Maybe, like Rebus, you kept a set at home as a memento. He’d checked a few nights back and they were still there in the drawer, a pair of the old chain-link design, along with the rudimentary key that accompanied them. There was other stuff in the drawer, too: a retractable steel baton and his old warrant card. He didn’t doubt that the likes of Alex Shankley, Doug Newsome and even Bill Rawlston would have a drawer almost identical. And if one of those drawers was lacking an item, what did that prove?

‘You okay with redbush?’ Clarke was asking from the doorway.

‘Not even tea’s straightforward these days,’ Rebus pretended to complain. He followed her back into the kitchen. She had her back to him when she spoke.

‘Thanks for coming over, John. I appreciate it.’

‘After the day you’ve had? Least I could do.’

She half turned her head towards him, managing a thin smile. ‘Do you think Graham will kick me off the team?’

‘Question is, why hasn’t he already?’

‘To which the answer is...?’ She handed him a mug.

‘Maybe he believes you. Maybe he even likes you.’ Rebus offered a shrug. ‘But if word gets to Mollison, it might be a different story. How are the rest of MIT handling it?’

‘I’m not sure yet.’ She leaned back against the worktop.

‘Steele won’t admit anything,’ Rebus commented.

‘I know.’

‘But Dougal Kelly’s got nothing to lose by telling MIT it wasn’t you.’

‘You think I should ask him?’

‘Your call.’

‘It’d mean owing him a favour.’

‘Sod that. He wants a favour afterwards, he can go whistle.’

‘Maybe I won’t say that when I talk to him.’

‘Best kept on a need-to-know basis,’ Rebus agreed, taking a slurp of tea.

‘How’s the redbush?’

‘It almost tastes like tea.’ Rebus was eyeing the bottle of IPA visible on the worktop behind Clarke.

‘Down, boy.’

Rebus turned his head towards the doorway, where Brillo was standing and watching.

‘I wasn’t talking to the dog,’ Clarke said.

After Rebus and Brillo had gone, Clarke stood in her living room, ready to do the tidying. But instead she took a deep breath and called Dougal Kelly.

‘Hi there,’ he answered.

‘My boss thinks I might be the source of the leak,’ she said without preamble. ‘My workmates are giving me looks behind my back and it’s all your doing.’

‘They know we had lunch?’

‘In point of fact, we didn’t have lunch, but I was spotted in the café with you, which amounts to the same thing. I need you to tell DCI Sutherland that you got the gen from elsewhere.’