Иэн Рэнкин - In a House of Lies

‘Perfect timing,’ Sutherland said. ‘I was just about to get in another round.’

‘My shout,’ Rebus insisted, pointing at each of them in turn until he’d amassed the order.

‘I’ll help carry,’ Sutherland said, accompanying Rebus to the bar. He had removed his tie and loosened his shirt collar.

‘How’s it going?’ Rebus asked him.

‘Slow but steady.’

‘Charges imminent?’

‘Hope springs eternal. What brings you here anyway?’

‘Just need a word with Siobhan.’

‘And maybe with DI Fox too, eh? See if he’s finished finding all the dirt from first time round.’

Rebus looked over to where Fox and Clarke were pretending to be chatting while actually much more interested in what might be being said at the bar.

‘Fox has tried taking me down in the past,’ Rebus commented. ‘He never got very far.’

‘How about Steele and Edwards — ever had any run-ins with them?’

‘I have a sneaking suspicion they saw me as one of their own. If we got too close, no way of knowing who would leave the grubbier marks.’

‘They seem to have led charmed lives.’

‘Maybe not for much longer.’ Rebus paused. ‘Siobhan and I both know why you brought her in to MIT. She won’t thank you for the knight-rescues-damsel scenario, but I do. It sent ACU a message, reinforced by the way you’ve stuck up for her since.’

‘I get the feeling you think you might be about to send them another.’

Rebus handed two twenties to the barman.

‘You think of her like a daughter, don’t you?’ Sutherland asked.

‘I’ve got a daughter.’

‘Maybe a favourite niece, then?’

‘Another scenario she wouldn’t thank you for,’ Rebus said, hoisting two of the glasses and making his way to the table.

Eventually people started to drift off — homeward bound or in search of food — until only Rebus, Clarke and Fox were left.

‘Here we are again,’ Rebus commented, raising his glass in a toast. ‘Almost like the old days.’

‘But without the pints and nicotine,’ Fox said. He was drinking sparkling apple juice, same as Rebus.

‘I can appreciate,’ Rebus went on, ‘that while a civilian was present, nobody was ready to open up about the case. But now it’s just the three of us...’

‘How much do you know?’ Fox asked.

‘John’s pretty well up to speed,’ Clarke answered quickly.

‘I won’t ask whose doing that is.’ Fox gave her an arch look. ‘Does he know about the field, though?’

‘What field?’ Rebus enquired.

‘The one where the VW Polo sat for the best part of a decade. It was only moved to the gully two or three years back.’

‘Around the time Ness sold up to Jeff Sellers,’ Clarke clarified. ‘Who in short order sold to Brand.’

‘It sat in a field?’ Rebus didn’t sound as if he quite believed it. ‘With the body inside?’

‘From the condition of the bodywork, Professor Hamilton reckons it had a tarpaulin over it. But nothing underneath, which is why weeds and the like pushed their way up from ground level. They were uprooted when the car was moved, but were still all twisted round the exhaust and had even invaded the interior floor.’

‘Sitting in a field and no one noticed?’

She shook her head slowly. ‘I know.’

‘So now,’ Fox said, ‘we have to look at farms and fields within a twenty-mile radius of Poretoun, which means asking the NFU for help.’

‘You talk like it’s your inquiry, Malcolm,’ Clarke said.

‘I can’t help myself.’ Fox gave a thin smile, staring at the surface of his drink.

‘Almost finished your report?’ Rebus asked him.

‘A result this time round would help shift the focus from previous failings.’

Rebus nodded. He was thinking back to another bar, another conversation.

‘I visited Poretoun,’ he began. ‘Got talking to a local whose son has a farm there. Guess what that farmer did when he was young?’

‘Enlighten us.’

‘Acted as an extra in one of Jackie Ness’s flicks.’

Clarke stared at him. ‘You’re winding us up.’

Rebus lifted a hand. ‘Cross my heart.’

Fox was busy on his phone. He held it up so they could see the screen. ‘Poretoun Glen Farm?’ he said.

‘Maybe,’ Rebus conceded. ‘We could all jump in a car and go see.’

‘Not without Sutherland’s blessing,’ Clarke stated.

‘And what would we see in the dark anyway?’ Fox added.

‘Spoilsports,’ Rebus said. Then, eyes on Fox: ‘Mind if I have a quick word with Siobhan?’

‘For her ears only?’ Fox nodded his understanding. ‘Anyone want another?’

They shook their heads, but he went and stood by the bar anyway, half-filled glass in hand. Clarke moved a little closer to Rebus.

‘I think,’ Rebus explained in an undertone, ‘I’ve got just about enough for us to take to Dallas Meikle.’

‘You know why Ellis did it?’ Her eyes had widened a fraction.

‘Why it happened, yes.’

‘So tell me!’

But he was shaking his head. ‘There’s something I have to do first.’

‘What?’

‘Go see Ellis again.’ She looked to him for an explanation, but he shook his head again. ‘Later,’ he said. ‘Meantime, Cafferty dropped me a name — Graeme with an e. That’s who sold the tainted dope to those ODs.’

‘Graeme was a sole trader?’

‘According to Cafferty. Seems he got out of Dodge when Cafferty started looking for him.’

‘But only as far as Jackie Ness’s film set, by which time he was Gram?’

Rebus shrugged. Fox was looking impatient. ‘If it turns out to be useful,’ Rebus told Clarke quietly, ‘just remember that you didn’t get it from me.’

‘Because that would mean admitting Cafferty confides in you?’

‘That’s not what he does — he plays games, some of them long-term.’

‘You think he’s still playing one that started in 2006?’

‘Maybe.’

Fox was nearing the table. ‘Finished gossiping about me?’

‘I was just telling Siobhan it’s good news Cafferty is cooperating with the inquiry.’

‘He is?’

‘Steele won’t know any different when you tell him.’

‘Why would I tell him when it’s not true?’

‘To shake the kaleidoscope,’ Rebus said with a smile.

‘The two of them know one another?’

‘Cafferty used him as muscle on at least one occasion, that occasion being a meeting with Irish gangster Conor Maloney.’

‘Why are we only hearing this now?’ Clarke asked.

‘Because — surprise, surprise — everyone concerned will doubtless deny it.’

‘So how come you know?’ Fox asked.

‘Grant Edwards got drunk and mouthy one night, couldn’t help telling me. I think he thought I’d be peeved Cafferty hadn’t picked me for the job.’

‘And what does this achieve, kaleidoscope aside?’ Fox wanted to know. It was Clarke who answered.

‘Driving a wedge between Steele and Edwards?’ she guessed.

‘The start of one maybe,’ Rebus acknowledged. ‘Now, if anyone’s hungry, I’m in the mood for a curry.’

Fox shook his head. ‘I’m supposed to be meeting someone for a drink,’ he apologised. His eyes met Clarke’s. Her look confirmed that she hadn’t told Rebus about Tess Leighton.

‘How about you, Shiv?’

‘Sorry, John. I’ve got an appointment too.’

‘I’m being stood up,’ Rebus said, trying to sound as if he could hardly believe it. ‘Don’t think I won’t remember this when you two are old and on your lonesome.’

‘We can’t help it if we’re young and in demand,’ Clarke said, finishing her drink and rising to leave.

A second-floor flat in a tenement on Comely Bank Avenue. Dougal Kelly and Derek Shankley were waiting for Clarke at the main door. Kelly slid the key into the lock and they entered the stairwell. It was well maintained, a couple of children’s bikes chained to the bottom rail of the stone stairs. Clarke had noticed that the name BLOOM was still on one of the buzzers beside the main door. Having climbed the two flights, they stopped at a red-painted door. Just below the spyhole was a brass plaque, again with the name BLOOM on it. It had been polished in recent memory. Derek Shankley ran a finger across it.