‘He didn’t take his car, did he?’
‘What?’
‘It was raining that night.’
‘When you go for a walk, do you take your car?’
‘I wouldn’t head up Salisbury Crags in a downpour, day or night.’
‘Well, Jim did, didn’t he?’
‘Yes, he did... and I still don’t understand why.’
‘Well, Mr Rebus, I’ve enough to worry about, so if you’ll excuse me...’ She looked over his shoulder and her face brightened.
‘Amanda, darling!’
A young woman had breezed through the door, completely ignoring the woman at the desk. She now came forward with arms open, shopping bags swinging from both hands, and embraced Katherine Margolies.
‘Sorry I’m late, Katy. Traffic was murder. Tell me I haven’t missed her.’
‘Afraid so.’
‘Oh, fuck it!’ Loud enough for heads to turn. From a distance of four feet, Rebus could smell the cigarettes and booze. The shopping bags: Jenners, Cruise, Body Shop. ‘How was she? I’ll bet she was brilliant...’ Looking around. ‘Where is she anyway?’
Hannah was coming towards them, leading her grandmother by the hand, her grandfather following. Her face lit up at the sight of her new visitor. Amanda crouched down and opened her arms again, and Hannah ran into them.
‘Careful with her make-up, Ama,’ Katherine Margolies warned.
‘You look like an angel,’ Amanda told Hannah. ‘Not that angels ever wore lipstick.’
Katherine Margolies was looking at Rebus. ‘I’m sorry, I thought we’d finished chatting.’ A polite dismissal.
‘We had,’ Rebus said. ‘But it’s Miss Petrie I’ve come here to see.’
Amanda Petrie stood up. She was wearing a clinging black mini-dress and black leather jacket with zips to spare. Black high heels and bare legs. She looked Rebus up and down.
‘Who do I owe money to?’ she asked. Her attention shifted to Dr and Mrs Margolies. ‘Hello, you two.’ She kissed and embraced both of them. ‘How are you bearing up?’
‘Well, you know, dear,’ Mrs Margolies said.
‘Hannah was splendid,’ Dr Margolies said. ‘We haven’t been introduced.’ He held a hand towards Rebus.
‘DI Rebus,’ Rebus said, watching the old man’s face fall. And now Ama Petrie was studying him. He smiled. ‘I’ve been taken for worse things than a loan-shark’s muscle,’ he told her. ‘Maybe we could have a drink at the bar...?’
But Amanda Petrie wasn’t that stupid. Rebus’s thinking: a couple more drinks would loosen her up even more. Amanda, however, had insisted on a pot of tea and several glasses of orange juice. Rebus, Janice and Ama Petrie: just the three of them, seated in the hotel lounge. Ama tucking a strand of blonde hair behind one ear. Rebus looking at her, knowing what Janice was thinking: could she be the mystery blonde? He didn’t think so; her build was different, not so tall, narrower at the shoulders. He couldn’t see any resemblance to her father...
She played with one of the shoulders of her dress. Her eyes kept scanning the lounge, looking for anyone more interesting, more glamorous, anyone she should know.
‘I want to be back for the judging,’ she reminded them. ‘Hannah’s bound to win.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘She’s got breeding. It’s not something you can paint on to a face or run up with a sewing-machine.’
‘Ever done any sewing yourself?’ Rebus asked.
She pulled her attention back to him. ‘Needlework and home economics. My school wanted to make little women of us.’ She lit a cigarette, tucked her legs under her. Since she hadn’t offered, Rebus made a show of taking out his own pack, lighting one for himself and offering another to Janice.
‘Sorry,’ Ama Petrie said, offering them her pack. Rebus waved his already lit cigarette at her. ‘How did you find me?’ she asked.
‘Phoned your number.’
‘You probably spoke to Nick.’ She blew out smoke. ‘He’s my brother. Always ready to shop his sis to the filth.’
Rebus let that one go. ‘How do you know Hannah?’ he asked.
‘We’re cousins or something. Twice removed, you know how it is with families.’
Rebus knew Jim Margolies had married someone with ‘society connections’. He hadn’t known Katherine was related to Lord Justice Petrie.
‘Not that I’d have anything to do with most of my family,’ Ama Petrie went on, ‘but Hannah’s just adorable, don’t you think?’ She asked the question of Janice, who nodded.
‘I’m not sure about these shows, though,’ Janice said.
Ama seemed to agree. ‘Yes, but Katy loves them, and I think Hannah does too.’
‘All those mothers...’ Janice mused. ‘Pushing their daughters.’
‘Yes, well...’ Ama tapped her cigarette against the ashtray. ‘What is it you want, anyway?’
Rebus explained the situation. As he talked, Ama’s attention moved to Janice. At one point, she leaned forward and took her hand, squeezing it.
‘You poor dear.’
An agony aunt’s look on her face; someone who’d been touched by loss only at one remove.
‘I did have a party that night,’ she agreed. ‘Not that I remember it too well. Bit too much to drink, too many people... as per. Word gets around, I do get the occasional gatecrasher. I don’t mind, so long as they’re interesting, but the boat’s owner goes on about overcrowding. He’s always asking me if I know this or that person, did I invite them?’ She drained her second glass of orange. ‘Christ knows why I bother.’
‘Why do you bother?’
A smirk. ‘Because it’s fun, I suppose. And because while I’m doing it, I’m somebody.’ She thought about this, shrugged the thought aside as if it were the wrong jacket. ‘You’re sure he was coming to my party?’
‘It’s the last time he was seen,’ Janice confirmed.
Rebus got out the photographs: Damon; Damon and the mystery blonde. As Ama studied them, he asked casually if she’d ever been to Gaitano’s.
‘Do people call it Guiser’s?’ He nodded confirmation. ‘Yes, once or twice. Lots of sweaty job-creation-schemers and dole-fiddlers. Off their faces on happy-hour cocktails, dropping E in the lavs.’ She smiled. ‘Not my scene, I’m afraid.’ She handed back the photos. ‘Sorry, don’t mean a thing to me.’
‘Not even the woman?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Looks a bit tarty.’
‘It couldn’t be someone you know?’
‘Inspector.’ A throaty laugh. ‘That’s hardly narrowing things down. I know everybody.’
‘But you don’t know my son,’ Janice said grimly.
‘No,’ Ama said, face making a show of contrition. ‘I’m very much afraid I don’t.’ She sprang to her feet. ‘I’d better get back. They’ll have started the judging.’
Rebus and Janice followed her, stood in the doorway as the prizes were handed out. Hannah was runner-up. As the winner was announced, and went forward to receive a sparkling tiara, everyone clapped and cheered. Everyone except Ama Petrie, who bounced on her toes, booing at the top of her voice as she gave an enthusiastic thumbs-down to the little girl With voluminous black hair, shimmering with glitter.
Katherine Margolies tried to stop Ama making a scene, but to Rebus’s eyes she didn’t try very hard...
‘Where the hell have you been?’
Stevens found Cary Oakes in the bar, where he was drinking orange juice and talking to the staff.
‘Walking, thinking.’ Oakes looked at him. ‘Want to make sure I don’t forget anything.’
Stevens picked up Oakes’s glass. ‘Then don’t forget this: that’s my juice you’re drinking, my money paying for it. We’ve lost a whole session.’