They waited for it to stop.
‘I get the distinct feeling there’s more to you than meets the eye, Detective Inspector Clarke.’
‘Trust me, there really isn’t.’
Sutherland thought for a moment, watching her from behind his raised glass. He smacked his lips when he lowered it. ‘I know Tess has given the Bloom file a first pass, but would you like to take a look too?’
‘Why?’
‘Might be our friends Steele and Edwards will pop up there, something you could tuck away for future use.’
She stared at him. ‘It was you who tipped off Traffic, wasn’t it?’ His left eyebrow was the only part of his face that moved. ‘There’s a prize if you tell me.’
‘Okay, I’m intrigued.’
‘A game of pitch ’n’ putt at Bruntsfield Links.’
‘An offer that’s hard to refuse. But you might be wearing a wire, so...’ He maintained eye contact as he slowly but definitively nodded.
‘Has to be on a warm day, mind,’ Clarke cautioned.
‘And how many of those does Edinburgh get?’
‘We had one a couple of years back.’
They both started laughing.
The Meadows again, illuminated by the street lamps on Melville Drive.
The rain had stopped, but the grass was wet, the cold penetrating their shoes and chilling their toes. Rebus stood with hands in pockets, the collar of his overcoat up, while Clarke had pulled the hood of her waterproof jacket over her head. In front of them, Brillo was busy sniffing some invisible trail. It was like watching an infant take a line for a walk across a sheet of paper.
‘He’s determined,’ Clarke admitted.
‘Not to mention tireless — can’t think who that reminds me of.’
‘I wanted to ask you about Steele and Edwards. How dirty do you think they were back then?’
‘You know that old saying — you need a lang spoon tae sup wi’ the devil?’
‘I thought that was Fifers.’
‘Same thing. All you need to know is, that’s what they were like. Kept everything to themselves. Always sat at a different table from everyone else, heads together. If they had a brain, it was a hundred per cent the property of Brian Steele. Grant Edwards had heft but not much else.’
‘He’s not changed much.’
‘Well, you’ve had more recent dealings with them. But back then, none of us thought they would last too much longer in the force. They’d be up on a charge or else off to greener pastures.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Steele owned a couple of executive cars, chauffeured bigwigs around. That’s probably how he fell in with Adrian Brand. He always said police work was boring.’
‘And Edwards?’
‘Did some of the driving. Worked a lot of his free nights as a club doorman. Was said to have money in a car wash out near the Forth Bridge.’
‘Did they try to influence the investigation?’
‘At Brand’s behest, you mean?’ Rebus thought for a moment. ‘Aye, maybe. They wouldn’t have been above taking a few quid from him, either to keep him posted or else to make sure he wasn’t given too much grief.’
‘We had a visit today from Brand’s PR man. He wants much the same.’
‘I dare say he’s not undercharging for his services either.’ Rebus produced a lighter from his coat and flicked it until a flame appeared. ‘Christ, I wish I still smoked.’
‘Your lungs probably disagree.’
‘Specialist wanted me to get an exercise bike — can you imagine?’
‘Not really, no.’
‘Me in the flat, pedalling away, going nowhere.’
A car had stopped on Melville Drive. They heard its door close and turned to watch as a dark figure approached.
‘The prodigal returns,’ Rebus announced. ‘Or is it the swine that returns? I’m a bit rusty.’
‘Hello to you too, John.’ Malcolm Fox was gesturing towards the cigarette lighter. ‘Thought you’d stopped.’
‘This is just in case I decide to go out in a blaze of glory.’
Fox had leaned in towards Clarke to peck her on the cheek.
‘Steady on,’ Rebus chided him. ‘We’re not in bloody France.’
‘How are you, Siobhan?’
She nodded in the affirmative. ‘How about you, Malcolm?’
He nodded back before turning towards Rebus. ‘I went to the Oxford Bar first off, but they said they hardly see you these days. I’m at the age where nothing should surprise me, but I’ll admit that nearly took my legs from under me.’
‘Aye, they’ve had to announce a profits warning. Stock Exchange isn’t happy. And speaking of happy ships, how are things at Gartcosh? Lost any more high hiedyins lately?’
‘It’s not exactly been plain sailing.’
‘Latest allegations are all to do with bullying — hope none of that’s been happening to you in the playground, Malc. We all know you’re a sensitive soul. See, in my day we just took it on the chin.’
‘Might explain why you ended up with so many bruises.’
Rebus stretched out his arms. ‘Do you see any?’
Fox tapped a finger to his own head. ‘In here, I mean.’
Rebus screwed his eyes shut. ‘Well, despite the brain damage, let’s see if I can still do a bit of mind-reading.’ He pretended to cogitate. ‘I see a skeleton in a car, a lot of media attention, and the top brass anxious about an old case and those who worked on it.’ He opened his eyes again. ‘And here you are.’
‘You’ve not lost it.’ Fox pretended to clap his hands.
‘You’re working at the Big House, you used to be Complaints, who else are they going to send to do their sniffing?’ Rebus looked down to where Brillo was circling the new arrival. Fox bent at the waist and gave the dog a pat.
‘Your name was mentioned in passing,’ he admitted, straightening up again.
‘How about Brian Steele and Grant Edwards?’ Clarke asked.
‘Them too.’ Fox studied her. ‘What’s your interest, Siobhan?’
‘I’m MIT.’
‘Officer in charge?’
She shook her head. ‘That’s DCI Sutherland.’
‘Siobhan has also,’ Rebus said, ‘had a bit of a run-in with ACU.’
‘Meaning Steele and Edwards?’
‘We used to call them the Chuggabugs,’ Rebus commented.
Fox’s eyes were still on Clarke. ‘You’ve requisitioned the 2006 case notes?’
‘Yes.’
‘I need to take a look at them.’
‘That’s DCI Sutherland’s call.’
‘In point of fact, it’s ACC Lyon’s call, and I’m sure the message is on its way from her to your boss.’
‘Isn’t that nice, Siobhan?’ Rebus drawled. ‘You and Malcolm on a case again.’
‘Actually,’ Clarke parried, ‘what I’m doing is investigating a murder.’
‘That’s true, Malcolm,’ Rebus agreed, with the appearance of a sage nod. ‘Whereas you’re back to your old speciality of stirring the shit prior to slopping it over fellow officers, be they serving, retired or long buried. Must give you a nice warm glow.’ He paused. ‘You live in a bungalow, don’t you?’
Fox frowned at the change of subject. ‘Yes,’ he eventually said.
Rebus nodded to himself. ‘That’s why I could never live in one.’ He had a sudden thought and turned his attention back to Clarke. ‘Mind you, just say Malcolm were to find some dirt on the Chuggabugs — might not be a bad result.’
‘Someone’s going to have to explain that nickname to me,’ Fox said.
‘Cartoon characters,’ Clarke obliged.
‘Who recently had a go at Siobhan here,’ Rebus added. ‘Hence the appetite for a bit of dirt on them.’
‘Thing to remember, John,’ Fox cautioned, ‘is that dirt has a way of spreading itself around.’