“I hear tell,” Rebus said to him, “you’re scared of the dark.”
“Eh?” Simms frowned.
“Explains why you like to keep your door ajar.” Rebus gave a wink, then turned back to Whiteread. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere with this. Not unless you want everyone on the inquiry knowing why you’re really here.”
“From what I hear, you’re already on suspension. Could be facing a murder charge anytime soon.” Whiteread’s eyes were dark points of light. “Added to which, the psychologist at Carbrae says you went behind her back, looked up records without permission.” She paused. “Seems to me you’re already shoulder-deep in shit, Rebus. I can’t think why you’d want more trouble than you’ve already got. Yet here you are, ready and willing to pick a fight with me. Let me try to get through to you.” She leaned forwards so her lips were an inch from his ear. “You’ve not got a prayer,” she said quietly. She pulled back slowly, ready to measure his response. Rebus had one gloved hand held up. She wasn’t sure what the gesture meant. A frown furrowed her brow. And then she saw what he was holding between thumb and middle finger. Saw it glint and sparkle in the light.
A single diamond.
“What the hell…?” Simms muttered.
Rebus closed his hand around the diamond.
“Finders keepers,” he said, turning, starting to walk away. Siobhan fell into step with him, waited till they were back outdoors before she spoke.
“What was all that about?”
“Just a fishing expedition.”
“But what does it mean? Where did the diamond come from?”
Rebus smiled. “Friend of mine, he runs a jeweler’s shop on Queensferry Street.”
“And?”
“I persuaded him to let me borrow it.” Rebus was tucking the diamond back into his pocket. “Thing is, they don’t know that.”
“But you’re going to explain it to me, right?”
Rebus nodded slowly. “Just as soon as I find out what I’ve caught with my hook.”
“John…” Half warning, half pleading.
“We going for that drink now?” Rebus asked.
She didn’t reply, tried staring him down as they walked back to his car. She was still staring as he unlocked his door and got in. He started the engine, put it in gear, then rolled down his window.
“I’ll see you there, then” was all he said, making to drive off. Siobhan stood her ground, but he just gave her a wave. Cursing silently, she started stalking towards her own car.
21
Rebus was seated at a window table in the Boatman’s, checking a text message from Steve Holly.
Wot u got 4 me? Mite av 2 refresh chip pan story if u dont help.
Rebus debated whether to reply or not, then started pressing keys:
jura crash herdman there took sth army want back u could ask whiteread again
He wasn’t sure that Holly would understand, Rebus not having worked out how to add punctuation or capitals to his text messages. But it would keep the reporter busy, and if he did end up confronting Whiteread and Simms, so much the better. Let them think the world was closing in on them. Rebus picked up his half-pint and made a little toast to himself with it just as Siobhan arrived. He’d been debating whether to pass on Teri’s news: Brimson and her mum. Thing was, if he told her, she probably couldn’t keep it to herself. Next time she met Brimson, he’d see it in her face, the way she spoke to him, a reluctance to meet his eyes. Rebus didn’t want that, couldn’t see it doing anyone any good, not at this juncture. Siobhan slung her bag onto the table and looked towards the bar, where a woman she’d never seen before was pulling pints.
“Don’t worry,” Rebus said. “I had a word. McAllister’s shift starts in a few minutes.”
“Just long enough for you to enlighten me, then.” She slipped off her coat. Rebus was rising to his feet.
“Let me get you a drink first. What’ll it be?”
“Lime and soda.”
“Nothing stronger?”
She frowned at his near-empty glass. “Some of us are driving.”
“Don’t worry, I’m only having the one.” He made his way to the bar, came back with two drinks: lime and soda for her, cola for him. “See?” he said. “I can be all smug and virtuous, too, when I want to be.”
“Better that than drunk at the wheel.” She lifted the straw from her glass and deposited it in the ashtray, sat back and placed her hands on her thighs. “Right, then… I’m ready if you are.”
At which, the door creaked open.
“Speak of the devil,” Rebus said as Rod McAllister walked in. McAllister saw that he was being stared at. When he looked, Rebus beckoned him over. McAllister was unzipping a scuffed leather jacket. He pulled the black scarf from around his neck and stuffed it into a pocket.
“I’ve got to start work,” he said when Rebus patted an empty stool.
“This’ll only take a minute,” Rebus offered with a smile. “Susie won’t mind.” He nodded towards the barmaid.
McAllister hesitated, then sat down, elbows pressing against his thin legs, hands cupped below his chin. Rebus mimicked the posture.
“It’s about Lee, then?” McAllister guessed.
“Not strictly speaking,” Rebus said. Then he glanced towards Siobhan.
“We may come back to that,” she told the barman. “But right now, we’re more interested in your sister.”
He looked from Siobhan to Rebus and then back again. “Which one?”
“Rachel Fox. Funny you’ve got different surnames.”
“We haven’t.” McAllister’s eyes were still shifting between the two detectives, unable to decide whom he should be addressing. Siobhan answered with a click of her fingers. He focused on her, narrowed his eyes slightly. “She changed her name a while back, trying to get into modeling. What’s she got to do with you lot?”
“You don’t know?”
He shrugged.
“Marty Fairstone?” Siobhan prompted. “Don’t tell me she never introduced you?”
“Yeah, I knew Marty. I was gutted when I heard.”
“What about a fellow named Johnson?” Rebus asked. “His nickname’s Peacock… friend of Marty’s…”
“Yeah?”
“Ever come across him?”
McAllister seemed to be thinking. “Not sure,” he said at last.
“Peacock and Rachel,” Siobhan began, angling her head to catch his attention again, “we think they might’ve had a thing going.”
“Oh, aye?” McAllister raised an eyebrow. “That’s news to me.”
“She never mentioned him?”
“No.”
“The pair of them have been hanging about town.”
“Plenty of people hanging about recently. Take you two, for example.” He sat back, stretching his spine, glancing at the clock above the bar. “Don’t want to get in Susie’s bad books…”
“Rumor is, Fairstone and Johnson had a falling-out, maybe over Rachel.”
“Oh, aye?”
“If you’re finding the questions too awkward, Mr. McAllister,” Rebus said, “feel free to say…”
Siobhan was staring at McAllister’s T-shirt, revealed now that he wasn’t slouched forwards anymore. It showed an album cover, an album she knew.
“Mogwai fan, eh, Rod?”
“Anything that’s loud.” McAllister examined his shirt.
“It’s their Rock Action album, isn’t it?”
“That’s the one.”
McAllister made to stand up, turning towards the bar. Siobhan locked eyes with Rebus and nodded slowly. “Rod,” she said, “that first time we met… you remember I gave you my card?”
McAllister nodded, walking away from her. But Siobhan was on her feet, following him, her voice rising.
“It had the St. Leonard’s address on it, didn’t it, Rod? And when you saw my name, you knew who I was, didn’t you? Because Marty had mentioned me… or maybe it was Rachel. You remember that Mogwai album, Rod, the one before Rock Action?”
McAllister had lifted the hatch so he could move behind the bar. He slammed it shut after him. The barmaid was staring at him. Siobhan lifted the hatch.
“Hoi, staff only,” Susie said. But Siobhan wasn’t listening, was hardly aware that Rebus had risen from his chair and was approaching the bar. She grabbed McAllister by the sleeve of his jacket. He tried to shake her off, but she turned him to face her.