‘This’ll take all day,’ he complained, looking over towards Esson.
‘All the sweeter when you get a result,’ she answered.
Fox, having seen something on his phone, was on his feet again and crossing the floor towards Clarke.
‘Yes, Malcolm?’ she said.
‘There’s someone I’m seeing later. I’d like it if you came with me.’
‘Your pal Geoff Dickinson?’
She watched him shake his head.
‘I’d rather you had no preconceptions.’
She stared at him, but he’d said all he was going to. ‘As long as it’s not dogging or Scottish country dancing,’ she warned him.
‘I think we’re probably safe then,’ he said, turning away.
When Rebus heard the news, he tried calling Laura Smith, but it went to a recorded message.
‘It’s John. Just checking up. Get back to me when you can.’ He stood in the bay window of his living room. Brillo had had his morning walk and seemed content, curled in his basket. Rebus, on the other hand, had been unable to relax since his encounter with Beth Mackenzie. He studied his phone again, then called Siobhan Clarke, who picked up on the fifth ring.
‘Let me guess,’ was her opening gambit.
‘The hell happened to Laura?’
‘Firebomb.’
‘Petrol through the letter box?’
It took her a moment to answer. ‘No, but that’s an interesting point. It would have been a lot quieter, and a burning hallway and front door make escape that bit less likely.’
‘So what was this?’
‘A bottle thrown through the downstairs window. She actually got it under control pretty well by herself.’
‘So she’s all right?’
‘Apart from still coughing her guts up.’
‘I take it that means she’s staying at yours?’
‘Elementary.’
‘Who does she think did it?’
‘Well, she did post a photo online that couldn’t have made your chums at Tynecastle too happy.’
‘She’s the Courant?’ He rolled his eyes. ‘Of course she is.’
‘We’ve seen how downright reckless some of the Tynie lot are — breaking into Francis Haggard’s flat, to give one example.’
‘And getting on the wrong side of you, for another?’
‘Bingo.’
‘So who’s working the case?’
‘Ronnie Ogilvie.’
‘Neighbours any help?’
‘Heard a car pull away. Road cameras are being checked as we speak.’
‘No one in the frame apart from Tynecastle? Must be plenty others she’s pissed off in one guise or another.’
‘Well, there’s James Pelham. She was the one who put it front and centre when he was playing away from home.’
‘Sounds like a long shot.’
‘Except that she spotted him hanging around her house. Drives a white car, so if it was him, we’ll not find proving it too onerous.’
‘White car, eh?’
‘Mean something?’
‘I don’t think so. Pelham’s got everything to lose, though, no?’
‘Most of which might already have slipped through his fingers. He’s pals with the Mackenzies — did you know that? His ex, Stephanie, sometimes works for them, decorating their flats.’ Rebus remained silent. ‘You still there?’ Clarke eventually asked. ‘Listen, I’d better go. We’re starting to get traction regarding Haggard’s movements. How about you — not found your man yet?’
‘I’m not sure that was ever the point, Siobhan.’
She was asking him what he meant when he ended the call. He was thinking about the white car parked across from QC Lettings when he’d interrupted Marion’s lunch break. Tinted windows, meaning anyone could have been inside, up to and including James Pelham. Pelham: friend of the Mackenzies. Pelham: whose ex-wife was Francis Haggard’s sister-in-law. Rebus knew the man from newspaper stories and photographs taken at high-society events. He even thought he remembered Haggard joking about how he’d married into money. Not that he hadn’t married for love, too, but it didn’t do any harm to have a brother-in-law who could give you investment tips.
Had Francis Haggard had money to invest? Obviously, judging by his visible bank accounts. But the messy divorce had pitted the sisters against Pelham, meaning Haggard would have had to choose a side. Stood to reason he’d stand by Cheryl and Stephanie, meaning he’d have wanted his money out. But did Pelham still have enough in the bank to repay him?
If it turned out he didn’t, what would Haggard have done?
Rebus returned to his armchair and reached for his cigarettes. It took him a few moments to remember he’d stopped. His doctor had suggested chewing gum as a replacement.
‘I can never get the bits to catch light,’ Rebus had answered, after which his doctor, with a smile, had apologised for trying to keep him alive.
He was still allowed a drink, however, in that it had not as yet been strictly prohibited. He’d wandered down to the Oxford Bar a few times during lockdown, always finding the door bolted shut. It was open again now, though. Still a bit early, but so what? He needed to process everything he knew, half knew and suspected. A quiet corner table and a pint had always helped him in the past. But then he heard a pattering against the window and knew that the forecast rain had started. Sounded heavy, too. Brillo opened one eye, seemingly happy in the dry.
‘Okay, then,’ Rebus told the dog. Tea would have to do instead.
‘Are we working you too hard, lover boy?’
Tommy Oram looked up from the workbench and saw that Beth Mackenzie was standing in the lane, leaning against his van with one foot crossed over the other. She levered herself upright and walked into the lock-up on precipitous heels. She was wearing oversized sunglasses and had draped a wispy scarf around her neck. Digging into her bag, she produced a pack of cigarettes and a gold lighter. She offered the pack to him.
‘Oh, I forgot,’ she teased him, ‘your generation doesn’t like to have fun.’
‘I just think there’s stuff here that shouldn’t meet a lit cigarette.’ He lifted a jar of white spirit from a shelf and added it to the brown canvas bag he was filling. ‘Was there anything in particular you wanted, Beth?’
‘I’m always after something, Tommy, you know that.’ She had removed her sunglasses and folded them closed, keeping the unlit cigarette between her fingers. ‘As it happens, I was wondering how you got on with the police.’
‘It was fine.’ He busied himself looking for something.
‘Fine as in...?’
He rested the knuckles of both hands against the edge of the workbench. ‘They just wanted to know if I had a key to the flat, whether I’d met the guy, that kind of thing.’
‘That tone of voice tells me you’ve not quite forgiven me. What can I do to repair the damage?’ She had taken a step towards him, close enough that he could smell her perfume and feel her breath. He shook his head, his eyes avoiding hers. But she angled her face in front of him. ‘Tommy,’ she said, ‘he couldn’t stay here, you know he couldn’t. It wasn’t safe for him.’
‘It was safe.’
‘Maybe I should have offered to help, done things differently, but my temper got the better of me.’ She reached out and touched the back of his nearer hand. ‘I’m a hot-blooded creature, what can I say?’
He drew the hand away, grabbed the bag and took it out to his van. Once it was inside, he turned back towards the lock-up. Beth Mackenzie’s demeanour had changed. She glowered at him as she lit the cigarette she’d been holding.
‘You need to be very careful,’ she warned him. ‘I mean very careful. You’ve got a good job here and we look after you. Gaby’s fond of you, too. But that doesn’t mean you’re indispensable. In my experience, no one is.’