Ian Rankin - Rather Be the Devil

‘We need to see if Arnott will open up to us. Might help if we have leverage.’

James nodded. ‘So we look at his business dealings, see if there’s anything he’s been hiding. Friends, associates — the usual drill.’ He returned to his desk and fell into his chair, pulling a pad of paper towards him and turning to a fresh sheet. ‘I need five minutes to decide on what order we do this in and which tasks you each get.’ He had already started writing. ‘And in case nobody’s noticed, there’s a member of the public in this room — maybe one of you could escort him out of the building?’

Rebus stared at the top of Alvin James’s head. ‘Your patter’s shite,’ he said.

‘I’d say that’s all you merit,’ James replied, without looking up.

Glancey and Oldfield had risen to their feet, eager to haul Rebus outside, but Clarke placed a hand on his forearm.

‘Come on, John,’ she said. ‘I’ll see you to the door.’

For a moment, he refused to budge, then he allowed her to lead him out into the corridor and down the stairs.

‘We got the result we wanted,’ she reminded him as they reached the ground floor.

‘Bully for us.’

‘He’s good at geeing up his team, though, you have to give him that.’

‘No, you have to give him that — he’s your boss, not mine.’

‘In point of fact, he’s not my boss either.’

‘You just handed him your case, Siobhan.’

‘I suppose that’s true.’ She followed Rebus out of the building on to the pavement. ‘So what now?’ she asked.

‘I’ve got a dog to walk.’

‘And after that? Maybe put some ice on your hip?’

‘It’s not that bad.’

‘Just your body telling you something?’

‘Aye, it keeps doing that — I wish to hell it would shut up. You heading back upstairs?’

‘I think so.’

‘On you go, then. And tell James something from me.’

‘What?’

‘That I’ve seen more arseholes than a proctologist, and he’s a Grade A specimen.’

‘Am I allowed to rephrase that?’

‘I’d rather it was verbatim.’ Rebus stared across the street to where his Saab was parked. ‘And speaking of arseholes...’ He crossed the road and ripped the parking ticket from his windscreen. ‘Almost got the full set,’ he called to Clarke, waving it towards her as he opened the door and got in. He added it to the collection in his glove box and started the engine. If Hank Marvin did end up being the death of him, at least he could say he’d cheated the council out of their pound of flesh...

Rebus drove straight back to the Infirmary and told Christine Esson she could take a break.

‘On whose orders?’ she asked.

‘All I need is five minutes. Maybe you could nip to the loo or something.’

‘It’s nice to see you too, John.’

‘Sorry, I’m forgetting my manners. How are you, Christine? You and Ronnie still an item?’

‘Not for much longer if he doesn’t shave off that moustache.’

‘I thought the hirsute look was in? Want me to drop a hint?’

‘You think I’ve not tried?’

‘I could hold him down while you take a razor to his face?’

She smiled and placed her magazine on the floor before getting to her feet. ‘Five minutes?’

‘Tops.’ Rebus looked at the figure in the bed. The sheet had been pulled up to his neck, but with his arms lifted clear by a framework of splints and clamps, so that his bandaged hands sat mid-air, relieved of any pressure. His eyes were closed, but Rebus got the feeling he was awake. ‘Has he said anything?’

‘Not since I arrived. His other visitor left soon after.’

‘Donny Applecross?’

Esson nodded. ‘A nurse asked Mr Arnott if he wanted a drink. He tilted his head and she fed him through a straw.’ Esson gestured towards the plastic tumbler on the bedside unit.

‘Off you go then and stretch your legs.’

Rebus watched her pick up her shoulder bag and make her exit. The ward was full, but none of the men looked remotely interested in anything around them. Two were asleep, one with his mouth gaping, small snores escaping. Another was wearing headphones while watching a TV monitor. Each bed had a similar screen, but you paid for the privilege. He wondered if it was any more expensive than the car park, but surely that was unfeasible.

Rebus didn’t bother sitting down. He walked around the bed to the other side and poured a little more water from the jug into the tumbler.

‘Fancy some?’ he asked. There was no response. He checked the chart as best he could. An intravenous drip had been fixed to Arnott’s left forearm. Usually they used the back of the hand, but Rebus could appreciate that this would not have been an option with this particular patient.

‘No family, Kenny? No mates other than your young fighter friend? That’s a shame. You look okay, though.’ Rebus paused. ‘In fact, you look good enough to kiss.’ He leaned over so that a shadow fell across Arnott’s face. With their mouths no more than an inch apart, Arnott’s eyes flew open. Rebus smiled and straightened up.

‘I seem to have got your attention,’ he said. ‘So here’s what I have to say. We are going after Cafferty on your behalf, with your help or without it. Either way he’s going to think you talked, so you better start hoping we put together a strong enough case to lock him away for a while. Be a hell of a lot easier if you told us at least a little of what happened. And if you so much as whisper the word “accident”, I swear I’ll squeeze your bandages till you puke.’ He paused again. ‘Okay, that’s me said my piece.’ He rounded the bed again and angled the chair so it was facing the patient. Then he settled on to it slowly. Arnott was blinking. His eyes seemed moist and he was focusing on the ceiling lights.

‘You’re not a cop,’ he said eventually, so softly Rebus almost didn’t catch it.

‘That’s right, Kenny.’

‘Then what are you?’

‘One of Cafferty’s oldest enemies, which is good news for you.’

‘I can’t help you. He’d kill me.’

‘You told him everything, though? Just nod if you did.’

Rebus waited and watched Arnott angle his chin downwards and up again.

‘You know who ordered that attack on Darryl Christie,’ Rebus went on. ‘They used you to find someone. You chose Rab Chatham, gave him the address but nothing else. After Chatham found out it was Darryl, he had a wobble and decided to use Craw Shand as insurance, knowing Craw would take the blame with a gladsome heart and Chatham would be safe from a vengeful Darryl. If I’m right so far, another nod would be nice.’

The head bobbed again.

‘Thank you,’ Rebus said. ‘So now we’re just left with the who and the why. The why isn’t such a problem — I think we’re slowly getting there. A name, Kenny, one little name and we can start building the case against Cafferty, always assuming the name you give me had Rab Chatham done away with... Am I safe to assume that at least?’

Arnott squeezed his eyes shut and a tear rolled down the side of his face towards his ear. ‘He’d kill me,’ he repeated, voice quavering. His whole body seemed to be shivering, and Rebus turned his eyes towards the readout on the monitor next to the drip.

‘You okay, Kenny?’ he asked.

Arnott’s teeth were clenched and his face was turning the colour of beetroot. Rebus rose from his chair and leaned over the bed. Arnott’s breathing had grown ragged.

‘Want me to call for someone? Pain getting a bit much?’ He looked around for a nurse but couldn’t see one. The numbers on the digital readout were climbing. Then Arnott seemed to spasm, his face grimacing.

‘Nurse!’ Rebus yelled.