‘You know I kissed one of them?’
‘You told me.’
‘Even now it makes me want to puke... Taxi!’
Siobhan held the phone further from her ear. ‘Pippa, I just need to know something... the guy you were with that night... could he have been an Australian called Barney?’
‘What?’
‘Australian, Pippa. The guy you were with at Lex’s party.’
‘Do you know... now you come to mention it...’
‘And you didn’t think it worth telling me?’
‘I didn’t think much of it at the time. Must’ve slipped my mind...’ She spoke to Lex Cater, filling him in. The phone changed hands.
‘Is that Little Miss Matchmaker?’ Lex’s voice. ‘Pippa told me you set the pair of us up that night... it was meant to be you, but she was there instead. Female solidarity and all that, eh?’
‘You didn’t tell me Pippa’s guest at your party was an Aussie.’
‘Was he? Never really noticed... Here’s Pippa again.’
But Siobhan had ended the call. ‘Never really noticed,’ she echoed. Rebus was heading back to his chair.
‘People like that, they seldom do. Think the world revolves around them.’ Rebus grew thoughtful. ‘Wonder whose idea it was.’
‘What?’
‘The skeletons weren’t stolen to order. So either Barney Grant had the idea of using them to scare off any uppity immigrants...’
‘Or Stuart Bullen did.’
‘But if it was our friend Barney, that means he knew what was going on — not just barman, but Bullen’s lieutenant.’
‘Which might explain what he was doing with Howie Slowther. Slowther’s been working for Bullen too.’
‘Or more likely for Peter Hill, but you’re right — the end result’s the same.’
‘So Barney Grant should be behind bars, too,’ Siobhan stated. ‘Otherwise, what’s to stop the whole thing starting up again?’
‘A little bit of proof might be useful right about now. All we’ve got is Barney Grant in a car with Slowther...’
‘That and the skeletons.’
‘Hardly enough to convince the Procurator Fiscal.’
Siobhan blew across the surface of her coffee. The hi-fi had gone quiet; might have been that way for some time.
‘Something for another day, eh, Shiv?’ Rebus eventually conceded.
‘Is that me getting my marching orders?’
‘I’m older than you... I need my sleep.’
‘I thought you need less sleep as you get older?’
Rebus shook his head. ‘You don’t need less sleep; you just take it.’
‘Why?’
He shrugged. ‘Mortality closing in, I suppose.’
‘And you can sleep all you like when you’re dead?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Well, I’m sorry to keep you up so late, old-timer.’
Rebus smiled. ‘Not too long now till there’s a younger cop sitting opposite you.’
‘Now there’s a thought to end the night with...’
‘I’ll call you a cab, unless you want to crash here — there’s a spare bedroom.’
She started putting on her coat. ‘We don’t want tongues wagging, do we? But I’ll walk down to the Meadows, bound to find one there.’
‘Out on your own at this time of night?’
Siobhan picked up her bag, slung it over her shoulder. ‘I’m a big girl, John. I think I can manage.’
He shrugged and showed her out, then returned to the living-room window, watching her walk down the pavement.
I’m a big girl...
A big girl afraid of wagging tongues.
Day ten
Wednesday
30
‘I’ve got a lecture,’ Kate said.
Rebus had been waiting for her outside her hall of residence. She’d given him a look and kept walking, heading for the bicycle rack.
‘I’ll give you a lift,’ he said. She didn’t respond, unlocking the chain from her bike. ‘We need to talk,’ Rebus persisted.
‘There’s nothing to talk about.’
‘That’s true, I suppose...’ She looked up at him. ‘But only if we choose to ignore Barney Grant and Howie Slowther.’
‘I’ve got nothing to say to you about Barney.’
‘Warned you off, has he?’
‘I’ve got nothing to say.’
‘So you said. And Howie Slowther?’
‘I don’t know who he is.’
‘No?’
She shook her head defiantly, hands gripping her bike’s handlebars. ‘Now, please... I’m going to be late.’
‘Just one more name then.’ Rebus held up a forefinger. He took her sigh as permission to ask. ‘Chantal Rendille... I’m probably pronouncing it wrong.’
‘It’s not a name I know.’
Rebus smiled. ‘You’re a terrible liar, Kate — your eyes start fluttering. I noticed it before when I was asking about Chantal. Of course, I didn’t have her name then, but I have it now. With Stuart Bullen locked up, she doesn’t need to hide any more.’
‘Stuart did not kill that man.’
Rebus just shrugged. ‘All the same, I’d like to hear her say it for herself.’ He slid his hands into his pockets. ‘Too many people running scared recently, Kate. Time for it to stop, wouldn’t you agree?’
‘It’s not my decision,’ she said quietly.
‘You mean it’s Chantal’s? Then have a word with her, tell her she doesn’t have to be scared. It’s all coming to an end.’
‘I wish I had your confidence, Inspector.’
‘Maybe I know things you don’t... things Chantal should hear.’
Kate looked around. Her fellow students were heading off to classes, some with the glazed eyes of the newly roused, others curious about the man she was talking to — so obviously neither student nor friend.
‘Kate?’ he prompted.
‘I need to speak to her alone first.’
‘That’s fine.’ He gestured with his head. ‘Do we need the car, or is it walking distance?’
‘That depends on how much you like walking.’
‘Seriously now, do I look the type?’
‘Not really.’ She was almost smiling, but still edgy.
‘Then we’ll take the car.’
Even having been coaxed into the passenger seat, it took Kate a while to pull the door closed, and longer still to fasten her seatbelt, Rebus fearing that she might bale out at any time.
‘Where to?’ he asked, trying to make the question sound casual.
‘Bedlam,’ she said, just audibly. Rebus wasn’t sure he’d heard her. ‘Bedlam Theatre,’ she explained. ‘It’s a disused church.’
‘Across the road from Greyfriars Kirk?’ Rebus said. She nodded, and he started to drive. On the way, she explained that Marcus, the student across the corridor from her, was active in the university’s theatre group, and that they used Bedlam as their base. Rebus said he’d seen the playbills on Marcus’s walls, then asked how she had first met Chantal.
‘This city can seem like a village sometimes,’ she told him. ‘I was walking towards her along the street one day, and I just knew when I looked at her.’
‘You knew what?’
‘Where she came from, who she was... It’s hard to explain. Two Senegalese women in the middle of Edinburgh.’ She shrugged. ‘We just laughed and started talking.’
‘And when she came to you for help?’ She looked at him as if she didn’t understand. ‘What did you think? Did she tell you what had happened?’
‘A little...’ Kate stared from the passenger-side window. ‘This is for her to tell you, if she decides to.’
‘You realise I’m on her side? Yours, too, if it comes to it.’