Ian Rankin - A Question of Blood

“Good thinking,” Rebus said, hoping he sounded calmer than he felt.

Breakfast over, they headed in Rebus’s car to St. Leonard’s. He was trying not to make it seem like a big deal. At the same time, there was no disguising the fact that they were going to be spending most of the day in an interview room, tapes loaded into the dual voice recorder, with another tape for the video.

“Can of juice or anything before we get started?” Rebus asked. Bob had brought a morning tabloid with him and had it spread out on the desk, lips moving as he read. He shook his head. “I’ll be back in a sec, then,” Rebus told him, opening the door and closing it, locking it after him. He climbed the stairs to the CID suite. Siobhan was at her desk.

“Busy day ahead?” he asked her.

“I’ve got my first flying lesson this afternoon,” she said, looking up from her computer.

“Courtesy of Doug Brimson?” Rebus studied her face as she nodded. “How’re you feeling?”

“No visible signs of damage.”

“Has McAllister been let out of the cells yet?”

Siobhan looked up at the clock above the door. “I suppose I better do that.”

“Not charging him, then?”

“You think I should?”

Rebus shook his head. “But before you let him waltz out, maybe you should ask him a few things.”

She rested against the back of her chair and stared up at him. “Like what?”

“I’ve got Evil Bob downstairs. He says Peacock Johnson started the fire. Stuck the heat under the chip pan and left it.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “Does he say why?”

“My idea is, he thought Fairstone had turned rat. Already no love lost between them, then someone calls Johnson and says I’m having a friendly drink with Fairstone.”

“And he murdered him for that? ”

Rebus shrugged. “Must’ve had cause to worry.”

“But you don’t know why?”

“Not yet. Maybe it was just meant to scare Fairstone off.”

“You reckon this Bob character’s the missing link?”

“I think he can be persuaded.”

“How does Rod McAllister enter this food chain of yours?”

“We won’t know that until you use your brilliant detective powers on him.”

Siobhan started sliding her mouse around its mat, saving what she was working on. “I’ll see what I can do. You coming with me?”

He shook his head. “I need to get back to the interview room.”

“This talk you’re having with Johnson’s sidekick… is it formal?”

“Informally formal, you might say.”

“Then you should have someone else present.” She looked at him. “Go by the rule book for once in your life.”

He knew she was right. “I could wait till you’ve finished with the barman,” he suggested.

“Kind of you to offer.” She looked around the suite. DC Davie Hynds was taking a call, writing something down as he listened. “Davie’s your man,” she said. “Bit more flexible than George Silvers.”

Rebus looked towards Hynds’s desk. He’d finished the call and was putting the receiver down with one hand while still scribbling with the other. He saw that he was being stared at, looked up and lifted one eyebrow questioningly. Rebus crooked a finger, beckoning him over. He didn’t know Hynds well, hadn’t really worked with him much. But he trusted Siobhan’s judgment.

“Davie,” he said, laying a companionable arm on the younger man’s shoulder, “take a walk with me, will you? I need to fill you in on the guy we’re about to interview.” He paused. “Best bring that notebook with you…”

Twenty minutes in, however, and with Bob still giving them general background, there was a knock at the door. Rebus opened it, saw a female uniform standing there.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Call for you.” She pointed back towards reception.

“I’m busy here.”

“It’s DI Hogan. He says it’s urgent, and you’re to be pulled out of anything short of triple-bypass surgery.”

Despite himself, Rebus smiled. “His exact words?” he guessed.

“Exact words,” the female officer echoed. Rebus turned back into the room, told Hynds he wouldn’t be long. Hynds switched off the machines.

“Get you anything, Bob?” Rebus asked.

“I’m thinking maybe you should get me my lawyer, Mr. Rebus.”

Rebus stared at him. “That’ll be Peacock’s lawyer, too, will it?”

Bob considered this. “Maybe not just yet,” he said.

“Not just yet,” Rebus agreed, leaving the interview room. He told the officer he could find reception without her help, and entered the comms room, crossing the floor and through an open doorway. Picked up the handset that was lying on the desk.

“Hello?”

“Christ, John, have you gone into purdah or something?” Bobby Hogan sounded not altogether pleased. Rebus was watching the bank of screens in front of him. They showed half a dozen views of St. Leonard’s, exterior and interior, the viewpoints flickering every thirty seconds or so, shifting from one camera to another.

“What can I do for you, Bobby?”

“Forensics has finally come back to us on the shootings.”

“Oh, aye?” Rebus winced. He’d meant to try phoning them again.

“I’m headed down there. Suddenly remembered that I’d have to drive straight past St. Leonard’s.”

“They’ve found something, haven’t they, Bobby?”

“They say they’ve got a bit of a puzzle,” Hogan agreed. Then he broke off. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“Not in so many words. It’s to do with the locus, am I right?” Rebus stared at one of the screens. It showed Detective Chief Superintendent Gill Templer entering the building. She carried a briefcase, with a heavy-looking satchel slung over one shoulder.

“That’s right. A few… anomalies.”

“Good word that: anomalies. Covers a multitude of sins.”

“I just wondered if you fancied coming with me.”

“What does Claverhouse say?”

There was a pause on the line. “Claverhouse doesn’t know,” Hogan said quietly. “The call came direct to me.”

“Why haven’t you told him, Bobby?”

Another pause. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe a certain fellow officer’s pernicious influence?”

“Maybe.”

Rebus smiled. “Pick me up when you’re ready, Bobby. Depending on what Forensics has got to tell us, I might have a few questions for them myself.”

He opened the interview room door, beckoned for Hynds to step into the corridor. “We’ll just be a minute, Bob,” he explained. Closed the door and faced Hynds, arms folded.

“I need to go to Howdenhall. Orders from above.”

“Want him put in the cells till you…?”

But Rebus was already shaking his head. “I want you to keep going. I shouldn’t be too long. If it gets sticky, call me on my mobile.”

“But…”

“Davie”-Rebus laid a hand on Hynds’s shoulder-“you’re doing fine in there. You’ll manage without me.”

“But there needs to be another officer present,” Hynds objected.

Rebus looked at him. “Has Siobhan been coaching you, Davie?” He pursed his lips, thought for a moment and then nodded. “You’re right,” he said. “Ask DCS Templer if she’ll sit in with you.”

Both eyebrows shot up, connecting with Hynds’s fringe. “The boss won’t…”

“Yes, she will. Tell her it’s about Fairstone. Believe me, she’ll be only too happy to oblige.”

“She’ll need to be briefed first.”

The hand that had been resting on Hynds’s shoulder now patted it. “You do it.”

“But, sir…”

Rebus shook his head slowly. “This is your chance to show what you can do, Davie. Everything you’ve learned from watching Siobhan.” Rebus removed his hand and bunched it into a fist. “Time to start using it.”