‘I’m not convinced he’s old enough to get served. Besides, what harm does it do?’
‘Ramsay Meiklejohn is a member of the House of Lords. That makes his disappearance — if that’s what it is — national news, maybe even international. The London tabloids are scenting blood.’
‘I’m still not seeing a downside.’
‘You might when they descend on Naver. You’ve only had the Scottish media to deal with so far — they’re pussycats by comparison. “Anyone seen Lord Strathy?”; “No, but while you’re here, we’ve a murder you might be interested in — victim’s partner lives just up the road.”’
‘Yes?’
‘Christ, John, you’re throwing your own daughter to the...’ Clarke broke off, rising to her feet again and beginning to pace. ‘You think she did it?’ The question was met with silence.
‘No shortage of suspects,’ Rebus eventually answered.
‘You’re not seriously adding Lord Strathy to the list?’
‘Keith went to Strathy Castle, kicked up a stink.’
‘Why?’
‘He wanted Strathy to sell him the camp. Strathy wasn’t inclined to agree.’
‘I’m not seeing grounds for murder.’
‘Wouldn’t mind asking his lordship a few questions, though — and his gardener, come to that.’
‘Haven’t got round yet to checking him for you — sorry.’
‘Never mind. I already know he has a record, along with a history of violence. He hustled Keith off the castle grounds.’ There was silence on the line for a moment. Then: ‘You’ve spoken to the daughter?’
‘She seems very relaxed about things.’
‘Why would that be?’
‘Might be an act.’ Clarke sighed and glanced down in Brillo’s direction. ‘John, if you’re going to be much longer, it’s going to have to be a kennel job.’
‘Nonsense — you spend too much time in the office as it is.’
‘Not as much as Malcolm.’
‘You’re not able to keep tabs on him as much as you’d like?’
‘He’s become friendly with your old sparring partner.’
Another moment’s silence.
‘Has he now?’ Rebus eventually drawled. ‘And why’s that?’
‘Something to do with Stewart Scoular.’
‘The SNP guy? You mentioned him before.’
‘Drummed out of the party and now reinvented as a land developer. He seems to feature in Strathy’s plans for your POW camp.’
‘Is there a connection, do you think?’
‘Only if Keith was killed because of his opposition, and frankly I still think that’s a stretch.’ Clarke paused. ‘Is it possible you’re seeing things that aren’t there, John? You used to say to me that the simple explanation usually turns out to be the right one.’
‘The simple explanation would bring Samantha back into the picture.’
‘Exactly.’ Clarke paused by her window, peering down onto the night-time street below. It all looked so peaceful, so orderly. ‘You never answered my question earlier.’
‘Which one?’
‘You know damn well.’
She listened to Rebus exhale at length and noisily. ‘She’s my daughter, Shiv, and she has a daughter of her own. She can’t do time, guilty or not.’
‘Jesus, John...’
‘I’ve put away innocent people before.’
Clarke pressed her forehead to the glass. ‘I don’t want to hear any of this.’
‘Then don’t ask. You’ve got enough on your plate, notably Malcolm Fox. You can’t let Cafferty get his claws into him — that bastard never, ever lets go.’
‘What do you think’s going on?’
‘Cafferty would do anything to have someone on the inside at Gartcosh, the higher up the better.’
‘Malcolm’s hardly—’
‘But he’s on his way, and it seems he has the ear of the ACC. If and when she lands the top job...’
‘A promotion for Malcolm?’
‘Even without the promotion, he’s still going to look like a prize to Cafferty. I know that sounds ridiculous and I can barely believe I’m saying it, but our slow-moving, slow-thinking DI Fox gets to inhabit spaces closed to the likes of you and me.’
‘The heart of any and all Major Crime investigations?’
‘Anti-terrorism, money laundering, all manner of classified stuff we have no inkling of. And yes, I know it should have been you they came for — staggers me that Fox got the nod.’
‘We both know why, though...’
‘Is this where you point the finger at me? My proximity somehow contaminated you in the minds of the wankers at the Big House?’
‘The thought seems to have crossed your mind,’ Clarke said.
‘But just think how mundane those formative years would have been without me charging into the occasional china shop.’
She was smiling, almost despite herself.
‘So what now?’ Rebus asked into the silence.
‘How many more days do you think you’ll be?’
‘You know as well as I do, it’s sometimes a long game.’
‘Want me to post you some clothes?’
‘I should have thought to buy some when I was in Inverness.’
‘So how are you managing?’
‘Pub landlady, I’ve got her late husband’s cast-offs on standby.’
‘A landlady, eh? You’ve landed on your feet.’
‘Maybe and maybe not.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I’ve got her on my list of suspects.’
‘You’re kidding?’
‘Her and her dad...’
‘Her dad?’
‘He’s in his nineties, so he’s low in the charts.’ Clarke couldn’t help laughing. ‘But he kept an old revolver in the bar and it’s gone walkabout, which maybe puts the barman, Cameron, in the picture. Added to which we have Samantha’s flame from the commune... maybe his partner, Angharad Oates, too — Lord Strathy’s ex, lest we forget — if we’re factoring in her jealousy of Samantha’s fling with Hawkins.’
‘You’re incorrigible.’
‘Is that what I am? How come I feel so tired, then? I could use some of Malcolm’s stamina.’ Clarke didn’t say anything. ‘You’re going to go check, aren’t you, see if he’s still in the office?’
‘Feet up with a good book,’ Clarke corrected him, knowing she was lying. ‘I’ve got the new Karin Slaughter to keep me company.’
‘Not forgetting a faithful pooch.’
‘Kennels, John. I’m not joking.’
‘Try telling him that to his face.’
When Clarke turned from the window, it was as if Brillo had heard every word. His head was cocked, eyes moist.
‘I can hear your resolve crumbling from here,’ Rebus said, ending the call.
‘Thought I’d find you here,’ Clarke said, entering the MIT office.
‘Some of us don’t have Brillo to feed and walk,’ Fox replied.
‘Speaking of which, when did you last eat?’ Clarke reached into the carrier bag she was holding and handed a fish supper to Fox. He began to unwrap it, while she went to the kettle and switched it on.
‘Salt and sauce?’ he asked.
‘Just salt — I wasn’t sure which you were. Got you these, though.’ She dug sachets of ketchup and HP out of her pocket and tossed them towards him.
‘You think of everything,’ Fox said. His desk was strewn with paperwork, so he transported the food to Esson’s obsessively tidy desk and seated himself there. While the kettle got to work, Clarke took a look at his computer.
‘CCTV,’ she commented. Fox nodded, tearing at the fat piece of battered haddock.
‘Christ, this is good,’ he said.
‘Found any interesting bicycles?’
He shook his head. ‘Might be something, though. I’ll tell you after.’
Clarke poured two teas, sniffing the milk before adding a dollop to each stained mug. She carried both to Esson’s desk. Having freed up one hand, she lifted a chip from the pile beneath the fillet.