Ian Rankin - A Question of Blood

Who was Lee Herdman? A man who’d abandoned career and family to head north. Starting a one-man enterprise, living in a one-bedroom flat. Settling by the coast, his boats providing a means of escape whenever necessary. No close relationships. Brimson was about the only friend he seemed to have who was near his own age. He coveted teenagers instead: because they wouldn’t be hiding anything from him; because he knew he could deal with them; because they’d be impressed by him. But not just any kids: they had to be outsiders, had to be cut from similar cloth… It struck Rebus that Brimson seemed to run a one-man show, too, and had few ties, if any at all. Spent as much time as he liked at one remove from the world. Ex-services, too.

Suddenly, Rebus heard a tapping. He froze, trying to place it. Coming from downstairs? No: the front door. Someone was knocking at the door. Rebus padded back down the hall and put his eye to the peephole. Recognized the face and opened up.

“Evening, James,” he said. “Nice to see you back on your feet.”

It took James Bell a moment to place Rebus. He slowly nodded a greeting, looking past his shoulder and down the hall.

“I saw lights on, wondered if anyone was here.”

Rebus pulled the door open a little wider. “Coming in?”

“Is it all right…?”

“There’s nobody else here.”

“I just thought… maybe you’re doing a search or something.”

“Nothing like that.” Rebus gestured with his head, and James Bell walked in. His left arm was in its sling, his right hand cradling it. A long black woolen Crombie-style coat was draped around his shoulders, flapping to show its crimson lining. “What brings you here?”

“I was just walking…”

“You’re a ways from home, though.”

James looked at him. “You’ve been to my house… maybe you can understand.”

Rebus nodded, closing the door again. “Putting a bit of distance between your mum and yourself?”

“Yes.” James was looking around the hall, as if seeing it for the first time. “And my dad.”

“Keeping busy, is he?”

“God knows.”

“I don’t think I ever got round to asking…” Rebus said.

“What?”

“How many times you’ve been here.”

James shrugged with his right shoulder. “Not that many.” Rebus was leading the way to the living room.

“You still haven’t said why you’re here.”

“I thought I had.”

“Not in so many words.”

“I suppose South Queensferry seemed as good a place as any for a walk.”

“You didn’t walk here from Barnton though.”

James shook his head. “I was hopping buses, just for the hell of it. One of them ended up bringing me here. When I saw the lights…”

“You wondered who was here? Who were you expecting to find?”

“Police, I suppose. Who else would be here?” He was studying the room. “Actually, there was one thing…”

“Yes?”

“A book of mine. Lee borrowed it, and I thought I might retrieve it before everything gets… well, before the place is emptied.”

“Good thinking.”

James’s hand went to his injured shoulder. “Bloody thing itches, if you can believe that.”

“I can believe it.”

James smiled suddenly. “I’m at a bit of a disadvantage here… I don’t think I ever caught your name.”

“It’s Rebus. Detective Inspector.”

The young man nodded. “My dad’s mentioned you.”

“Casting me in a flattering light, no doubt.” It was hard to meet the son’s eyes without being tricked into seeing the father peering from behind them.

“I’m afraid he sees incompetence wherever he looks… kith and kin not excluded.”

Rebus had perched on the arm of the sofa, nodding towards the chair, but James Bell seemed happier on his feet. “Did you ever find the gun?” Rebus asked. James seemed puzzled by the question. “The time I visited,” Rebus explained. “You had a gun magazine, looking for the Brocock.”

“Oh, right.” James nodded to himself. “There were photos of it in the papers. My dad’s been keeping all the stories, thinks he can spearhead a campaign.”

“You don’t sound altogether approving.”

James’s eyes hardened. “Maybe that’s because…” He broke off.

“Because what?”

“Because I’ve become useful to him, not for what I am but because of what happened.” His hand went to his shoulder again.

“You can never trust a politician,” Rebus commiserated.

“Lee told me something once. He said, ‘If you outlaw guns, the only people who have access to them are the outlaws.’” James smiled at the memory.

“Seems he was an outlaw all right. Two unlicensed guns at the very least. Did he ever tell you why he felt the need to keep a gun?”

“I just thought he was interested in them… his background and everything.”

“You never got the sense that he was expecting trouble?”

“What sort of trouble?”

“I don’t know,” Rebus conceded.

“You’re saying he had enemies?”

“Ever wonder why he had so many locks on his door?”

James walked to the doorway and looked down the hall. “I put that down to his background, too. Like when he went to the pub, he always sat in the corner, facing the door.”

Rebus had to smile, knowing he did the selfsame thing. “So he could check whoever came in?”

“That’s what he told me.”

“The two of you sound as if you were pretty close.”

“Close enough for him to end up shooting me.” James’s eyes went to his shoulder.

“Ever steal anything from him, James?”

The young man’s brow furrowed. “Why would I do that?”

Rebus just shrugged. “Did you, though?”

“Never.”

“Did Lee ever mention anything going missing? Ever seem agitated to you?”

The young man shook his head. “I don’t really see what you’re getting at.”

“That paranoia of his, I just wondered how far it extended.”

“I didn’t say he was paranoid.”

“The locks, the corner seat in the pub…”

“That just comes of being careful, wouldn’t you say?”

“Maybe.” Rebus paused. “You liked him, didn’t you?”

“Probably more than he liked me.”

Rebus was remembering his last meeting with James Bell, and what Siobhan had said afterwards. “What about Teri Cotter?” he asked.

“What about her?” James had taken a couple of steps back into the room, but seemed still restless.

“We think Herdman and Teri may have been an item.”

“So?”

“Did you know?”

James made to shrug with both shoulders, ended up flinching in pain.

“Forgot your wound for a moment there, eh?” Rebus commented. “I remember you had a computer in your room. Ever visited Teri’s website?”

“Didn’t know she had one.”

Rebus nodded slowly. “Derek Renshaw never mentioned it, then?”

“Derek?”

Rebus was still nodding. “Seems Derek was a bit of a fan. You were often in the common room, same time as him and Tony Jarvies… thought they might’ve talked about it.”

James was shaking his head, looking thoughtful. “Not that I remember,” he said.

“Not to worry, then.” Rebus made to stand up. “This book of yours, can I help you look for it?”

“Book?”

“The one you’re looking for.”

James smiled at his own stupidity. “Yes, sure. That’d be great.” He looked around the cluttered room, walked over to the desk. “Hang on a sec,” he said, “this is it.” He held up the paperback for Rebus to see.

“What’s it about?”

“A soldier who went off the rails.”

“Tried killing his wife, then leapt from an airplane?”

“You know the story?”