Ian Rankin - Exit Music

Morgan's lips were the same pale colour as her cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered, and for a moment he thought she might faint.

'I don't know what you mean,' she said.

'I wouldn't give up those lessons just yet – looks to me like you've got a few things to learn about delivering a line. The blood's left your face, your voice is shaking, and you're blinking like you've been caught in someone's headlights.' Rebus sat back again. He'd been here five minutes, but he thought he could read the whole of Gill Morgan's life in what he'd seen of her so far: cushy upbringing, parents who poured money and love over her, schooled in the art of confidence and never having faced a challenge she couldn't sweet talk her way out of.

Until now.

'Let's take it slowly,' he said in a softening voice, 'ease you into it. How did you meet Nancy?'

'At a party, I think.'

Tou think?'

'I'd been to a few bars with some friends… we ended up at this party and I can't remember if Nancy was already there or if she'd somehow attached herself to the group along the way.'

Rebus nodded his understanding. 'How long ago was this?'

'Three or four months. Around Festival time.'

'I'm guessing the two of you come from different backgrounds.'

'Absolutely.'

'So what did you find in common?' She didn't seem to have a ready answer. 'I mean, something must have helped you bond?'

'She's just good fun.'

'Why do I get the feeling you're lying again? Is it the shaky voice or the fluttering eyelids?'

Morgan leapt to her feet. 'I don't have to answer any of your

questions! Do you know who my mother is?'

'Wondered how long it would take,' Rebus said with a satisfied smile. 'Go on then, impress me.' He clasped his hands behind his head.

'She's the wife of Sir Michael Addison.'

'Meaning he's not your actual father?'

'My father died when I was twelve.'

'And you kept his surname?' Colour had flooded back into the young woman's cheeks. She'd decided to sit down again, but keeping her feet on the floor this time. Rebus unclasped his hands and rested them on the chair arms. 'So who's Sir Michael Addison?' he asked.

'Chief executive of First Albannach Bank.'

'A useful sort to know, I'm guessing.'

'He rescued my mother from alcoholism,' Morgan stated, eyes boring into Rebus's. 'And he loves both of us very much.'

'Nice for you, but it doesn't help the poor sod who ended up dead on King's Stables Road. Your friend Nancy found the body, then lied to us about where she'd been heading home from. She gave your name, Gill, and your address. Meaning she must think you're one hell of a friend, the kind who'd go to jail on her behalf rather than tell the truth…'

He didn't realise his voice had risen, but when he stopped, there was a moment's reverberation from the walls.

“You think your stepdad would want you doing that, Gill?' he went on, voice softening again. 'You think your poor mum would want that?'

Gill Morgan had bowed her head and seemed to be analysing the backs of her hands. 'No,' she said quietly.

'No,' Rebus agreed. 'Now tell me, if I were to ask you right now where Nancy lives, could you give me an answer?'

A single tear dropped into the young woman's lap. She squeezed her eyes with thumb and forefinger, then blinked any further tears back. 'Somewhere off the Cowgate.'

'Doesn't sound to me,' Rebus said, 'as if you really know her all that well. So if the two of you aren't what you might call bosom buddies, why are you covering for her?'

Morgan said something he didn't catch. He asked her to repeat it. She glared at him, and this time the words were unmistakable.

'She was buying me drugs.' She let the words sink in. 'Buying us drugs, I should say – some for her, and some for me. Just a bit of pot, nothing to send civilisation crashing to its knees.'

'Is that how you became friends?'

'I dare say it's part of the reason.' But Morgan couldn't really see the point of lying. 'Maybe quite a lot of the reason.'

'The party you met her at, she brought dope with her?'

Tes.'

'Was she sharing or selling?'

We're not talking about some Medellin cartel here, Inspector…'

'Cocaine, too?' Rebus deduced. Morgan realised she'd said too much. 'And you had to protect her because otherwise she was going to – pardon the pun – grass you up?'

'Is that the punchline you were talking about?'

'I didn't think you'd heard that.'

'I heard.'

'So Nancy Sievewright wasn't here that night?'

'She was supposed to turn up at midnight with my share. It annoyed me at the time, because I'd had to rush home.'

'Where from?'

'I've been helping out one of my drama teachers. He has a sideline running one of those nighttime walking tours of the city.'

'Ghost tours, you mean?'

'I know they're preposterous, but the tourists like them and it's a bit of a giggle.'

'So you're one of the actors? Jumping out from the shadows and going “Boo!”?'

'I have to play several roles, actually.' She sounded hurt by his glibness. 'And between set-ups, I have to run like blazes to the next location, changing costume as I go.'

Rebus remembered Gary Walsh saying something about the ghost tours. 'Where does it happen?' he asked now.

'St Giles to the Canongate, same route each night.'

'Do you know of any tours that take in King's Stables Road?'

'No.'

Rebus nodded thoughtfully. 'So who exactly do you play?'

She gave a puzzled laugh. 'Why the interest?' 'Indulge me.'

She puckered her lips. 'Well,' she said at last, 'I'm the plague doctor… I have to wear a mask like a hawk's beak – the doctor would fill it with potpourri to ward off the stench from his patients.'

'Nice.'

'And then I'm a ghost… and sometimes even the Mad Monk.'

'Mad Monk? Bit of a challenge for a woman, isn't it?'

'I only have to do a bit of moaning and groaning.'

'Yes, but they can see you're not a bloke.'

'The hood covers most of my face,' she explained, smiling again.

'Hood?' Rebus echoed. 'I wouldn't mind having a look at that.'

'The costumes stay with the company, Inspector. That way, when one actor's off sick, they can use another as cover.'

Rebus nodded as if satisfied by the explanation. 'Tell me,' he asked, 'did Nancy ever come to see you perform?'

'A couple of weeks back.'

'Enjoy herself, did she?'

'Seemed to.' She gave another nervy little laugh. 'Am I walking into some trap here? I can't see what any of this has to do with your case.'

'Probably nothing,' Rebus assured her.

Morgan grew thoughtful. 'You're going to talk to Nancy now, aren't you? She'll know I've told you.'

'Afraid you may be in the market for another supplier, Miss Morgan. Shouldn't worry, though – there are plenty of them about.'

Rebus got to his feet. She followed suit, standing on tiptoe and still below the height of his chin.

'Is there…' She swallowed back the rest of the question but decided she had to know. 'Is there any reason why my mother might get to hear of this?'

'Depends, really,' Rebus said, after a moment's pretend thought.

'We catch the killer… it comes to trial… the time-line is gone through minute by minute. Defence is going to want some doubt in the jury's minds, and that means showing any witnesses to be less than trustworthy. They show Nancy 's original statement to be a pile of dung, and it all starts to smell from then on in…' He gazed down at her. 'That's the worst-case scenario,' he offered. 'Might never happen.'

'Which is another way of saying it might.'

Tou should have told the truth from the start, Gill. Lying is all very well for an actor, but out here in the real world we tend to call it perjury.'