‘But you need to interview her all the same?’
‘You know we do. And Forensics are going to want to inspect the Volvo.’
‘They’ll find my prints.’
‘And mine,’ Creasey said. ‘So we’ll need yours and Samantha’s for purposes of elimination.’
‘You’ve been to the camp; you’ve seen him?’ Creasey gave a slow nod. ‘The empty satchel — he used to keep his notes and laptop in it, according to the guy who runs the café along the road.’
‘We’re in the process of getting a statement from Mr Travis.’
Rebus realised he had lowered himself onto the arm of one of the chairs — he wasn’t about to get comfortable.
‘Keith slept there a few nights after he found out about Samantha and Jess Hawkins.’
‘We’ll be talking to everyone, John, trust me.’ Creasey paused. ‘You are going to trust me?’
‘Why do you ask?’
‘Because of everything I’ve learned about you; because you’ve worked your whole life in the central belt and you might think those of us based up here are a bit... rustic. I’m here to tell you that we know the job, and we’ll be every bit as thorough as you’d want and expect.’
Rebus was staring at the floor. ‘It has to be something to do with that camp,’ he stated.
‘Why?’
‘The missing laptop.’
‘The one thing any opportunist would take with them — portable and easy to sell on. His phone is missing too.’ Rebus was shaking his head, and Creasey gave him a disappointed look. ‘So what was it about the camp that was so important to Mr Grant?’
‘I don’t know, but the garage here is full of research. You need to talk to the local history group. They might have some answers.’
‘We’ll get round to it.’
‘I suppose the autopsy comes first? Cause of death as starting point? Fingertip search of the camp?’
Creasey was nodding along.
‘With my daughter as a suspect, maybe even the main suspect?’
‘You’ve been in my shoes; you know how this plays out. It doesn’t mean we won’t show discretion. And Victim Support will be here for your daughter and granddaughter as and when they need it.’ Creasey rose to his feet. ‘Volvo keys on the hall table?’ Rebus nodded. ‘I’ll take them with me then. Samantha may have a spare set, but she’d be wise to leave the car untouched until we’re finished with it.’
‘I’ll make sure she knows.’
Creasey reached out his hand and clasped Rebus’s. ‘You need to be a father now, leave everything else to us.’
Rebus met Creasey’s eyes as he nodded. ‘Tell me,’ he said. ‘Did they take his cash and credit cards?’
‘His wallet was in his pocket, untouched by the look of it.’
‘And you still think robbery’s a possible motive?’
‘Everything’s a motive at this point.’
‘Try not to forget that, son. Don’t get lazy.’
He saw the detective to the door, watched through the living room window as he got into his car and drove off, heading in the direction of the crime scene. When the engine noise had faded, he put his coat on and headed out to the garage. Settling himself on the fold-down chair in front of the trestle table, he began to read more thoroughly about Camp 1033.
10
Fox was halfway back to Edinburgh when he decided to answer Siobhan Clarke’s latest attempt at calling him.
‘What’s with the Houdini act?’ she enquired.
‘I was summoned to Gartcosh — boss there needed me.’
‘Must be nice to feel wanted. But meantime I’ve had a text from John.’
‘On his way back?’
‘The exact opposite — a body’s turned up. His daughter’s partner.’
‘Bloody hell. Suicide?’
‘Text didn’t say and I can’t get him to answer his phone — it’s almost like he’s taking lessons from you.’
‘I was in a meeting.’
‘But you’re on your way back now?’
‘Another half-hour or so — where will we meet?’
‘I’m taking Brillo to the Meadows. Need to pick up a couple of things from John’s flat.’
‘I’ll see you there.’ Fox ended the call, checked his mirror, signalled, and pulled out to overtake. Almost thirty years he’d been driving, and never a ticket or a scratch or a dent. Because he was cautious. He stuck to the rules. He knew what he was doing.
He wondered whether he would cross the line — and how far — for Assistant Chief Constable Jennifer Lyon. And for his own prospect of promotion.
‘He’s going to have to go into kennels,’ Clarke said, watching as Brillo tracked yet another of the Meadows’ innumerable scents.
‘You might be right,’ Fox agreed. ‘Still heard nothing more from John?’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t keep him shut up in my flat all day — or his owner’s, come to that.’
‘Is there maybe a neighbour?’ Clarke’s eyes bored into his. Fox lifted both hands. ‘No, no, no. I told you, I’m not an animal person. Besides which, I’m working the same insane hours as you.’
‘And neither of us with much to show for it.’
‘What about someone else in the office — Christine or Ronnie? You could pull rank on either of them.’
‘It’s crossed my mind.’ Clarke dug her phone out of her pocket and checked the screen. ‘Speak of the devil,’ she said, answering. ‘What can I do for you, Christine?’
‘We’ve just had the most colossal break in the case.’
‘Very funny.’
‘Time was you might have fallen for that.’
Clarke could hear the soft clatter of computer keyboards in the background.
‘Getting a bit bored in the office, are we?’
‘Obviously, but I’m phoning to see if you think John Rebus might be up for a night at the theatre.’
‘The theatre?’
‘Remember I told you Lee Child and Karin Slaughter are coming to Edinburgh? Well, it’s tonight and my date’s dropped out, meaning I’ve got a spare.’
‘John’s still up north.’
‘In which case, this is your lucky day.’
‘Have you asked Ronnie?’
‘He only reads comics.’
‘Graphic novels.’ Clarke heard Ronnie Ogilvie correcting Esson from across the desk.
‘I’ll let you know,’ she said. ‘Has my absence been noted yet?’
‘The DCI’s had another summons from our lords and masters. Ronnie and me are about to bask in front of several hours’ worth of CCTV.’
‘I won’t keep you then. Bye, Christine.’ Clarke ended the call and then whistled for Brillo to come to her, readying his leash. She glanced in Fox’s direction. ‘It was nothing earth-shaking then, your trip to Gartcosh?’
‘No,’ he said with a shake of the head.
‘No updates from London about Middle Eastern hit squads jetting in and out again?’
‘Passenger lists have been scoured. Special Branch are nothing if not thorough.’
‘You stressed that we’re all working ourselves to death here?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘That’s fine then.’ Clarke had taken a couple of steps in the direction of Melville Drive, but stopped when she saw that Fox wasn’t about to accompany her.
‘I’m parked that way,’ he said, gesturing in the vague direction of the university buildings beyond the Meadows.
‘That’s miles away,’ Clarke said. He offered a slight wrinkling of his mouth.
‘Catch you back at base,’ he said, turning away from her.
She watched him go. He half turned his head as if to check on her, then quickened his pace. Clarke started walking in the opposite direction, Brillo looking up at her, wondering if she might morph back into his owner. He seemed happy enough when she scooped him up into her arms, turning to follow Fox. There was no good reason that she could think of for him to have parked so far away. He had his phone out, looking at it as he walked. Clarke made a slight detour off the path and onto the grass. There were plenty of pedestrians about, plenty of dog-walkers and students playing with frisbees and footballs. An observant eye might still spot her, but there were no further backward glances from Fox as he headed up Middle Meadow Walk. He took a left at the first café, heading into the Quartermile complex. There was an underground car park there, but it was pricey. Too pricey, she reckoned, for the frugal Malcolm Fox. Reaching the narrow footpath that led down the side of the café, she saw no sign of him. The street ahead was clear. So either he had descended into the car park or...