‘What about it?’
‘It was subject to several visits by police officers. Unscheduled visits. But never when your son and Stuart were there.’
‘What are you trying to say?’
‘Just that you were a detective, sir, with friends everywhere, I’m guessing.’
Alex Shankley shifted his gaze from Clarke to Sutherland. ‘I don’t see what any of this has to do with Stuart’s murder.’ Sutherland seemed to agree, his eyes on Clarke.
‘Perhaps Derek could step outside for a moment,’ she said. The son looked to his father, who nodded his agreement. Clarke waited until Derek was on the other side of the door.
‘There’s something I’d like to share with you, but it would have to be in confidence. It’s something you might well find useful, because it’ll help you prepare yourself.’
‘And in exchange?’ Alex Shankley asked.
‘You’ll answer a question I’m going to put to you.’
Shankley weighed up his response. ‘Very well,’ he eventually said.
Clarke moistened her lips. ‘Stuart’s ankles were handcuffed together. Police-issue handcuffs most probably. We’re keeping that to ourselves at present, so please don’t go sharing, even with Derek.’
Shankley nodded his understanding. ‘Public will think it was a cop, and I was a cop.’
‘Now you’ll be prepared,’ Clarke stated.
Shankley nodded again. ‘So ask me your question.’
‘Did someone let you know whenever a police raid was due to be carried out at Rogues?’
‘How would it have looked, a murder squad man’s son being hauled into the back of a police van?’
‘Is that a yes?’
‘It is.’
‘The person who told you, they had to be on the inside, somebody local.’
‘You’ve already had your question, DI Clarke. You’ve got me feeling like a bloody snitch, but that’s as much of my soul as you’re having.’ He leaned back in his chair and folded his arms. For the first time, Clarke saw the son reflected in the father.
‘You didn’t kill Stuart Bloom, did you, Mr Shankley?’ Sutherland asked.
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘And you didn’t order or otherwise facilitate his death?’
‘No.’
‘Happen to keep any old pairs of handcuffs in the house?’ Sutherland watched Shankley nod. ‘Any of them gone AWOL down the years?’
‘Definitely not.’
‘Sure about that?’
Shankley gazed towards the door. ‘It nearly destroyed Derek, you know. For a few months he was almost suicidal. Even now...’ He shook his head and sighed. ‘Took me a long time to understand how much they really cared for one another.’
‘Your wife...?’ Clarke asked.
‘Died when Derek was young.’
‘You brought him up by yourself?’
‘Family helped.’
‘Which is why it’s interesting you’ve never felt able to contact Stuart’s family.’
Shankley glowered at the two detectives across from him. ‘Did you hear the things they said about us? About hard-working cops like you and me? When Stuart went missing, his mum phoned me day and night — CID and home. She never gave it a rest, said I should be shouting from the rooftops, talking to all those bloody journalists.’
‘And now your son is teaching the next generation,’ Clarke commented.
The man snorted. Sutherland shifted on his seat.
‘You will,’ he said, ‘check the situation with those handcuffs, won’t you?’
Shankley slapped the table with the flat of his hand. ‘I’ve told you I had nothing to do with it.’
‘And you’ve no inkling who did?’
‘None.’
‘Then we’re probably done here.’ Sutherland made to rise to his feet.
‘But we may need to talk to you again, sir,’ Clarke cautioned. ‘And in the meantime, while Derek’s here, it would be good to get those contacts from him.’
‘If he’s willing, that’s fine. He might not know everyone, though. If he can’t give you a number or he doesn’t know a name, don’t read anything into it.’ Shankley paused, stabbing a finger into the air between the two detectives. ‘Don’t forget, I know how you think. And I know how wrong that thinking can sometimes be. I’ve always stuck up for the force and I always will — but I know.’
‘Don’t judge us by the past, Mr Shankley,’ Clarke said. ‘Trust me, we’ve learned a lot from the cock-ups and cosy conspiracies of your generation.’
That evening, after just the one drink with Graham Sutherland, Clarke stood in front of Rebus’s tenement and pressed his buzzer, leaning in towards the intercom.
‘Yes?’ his voice crackled.
‘I looked for you on the Meadows.’
‘Already done.’ The door sounded to let her know it had been unlocked. She climbed the two flights. Rebus was waiting on the landing, Brillo at his side, tail wagging. ‘Can I just say, Siobhan, that a woman of your age should have better things to do with her evenings.’
‘Thought I was supposed to keep you in the loop.’
‘A phone call would suffice.’ She followed him down the long hallway into the kitchen.
‘You’ve tidied,’ she commented.
‘Cut to the quick by your critique. Coffee or gin?’
‘Actually I’m fine.’
He lifted a box of tea bags. ‘Turmeric. Guess who from?’
‘A certain pathologist?’
‘She thinks I want to live forever.’ He took a bottle of IPA from the worktop and opened it. They went into the living room, where a CD was playing. Rebus turned it down a notch.
‘Is that classical?’
‘Arvo Pärt.’
‘Our pathologist friend again?’
‘Music to soothe the fevered brow.’ He sank into his chair. ‘How’s it all going, anyway?’
‘Malcolm’s settled in.’
‘He’s good at that.’
‘He had a couple of visitors today — the Chuggabugs.’
‘Sounds about right. They’ll be checking their arses are covered.’
‘You think Malcolm will roll over for them?’
‘It won’t be like that, Shiv. They’ll doubtless have something to offer. Maybe they dug up some dirt on him. Our Malcolm’s not half as shiny as he looks, remember.’ Rebus swallowed a mouthful of beer. ‘Anything else?’
‘I sat and watched one of Ness’s films — Zombies v Bravehearts. Stuart Bloom and Derek Shankley were extras. This was after I’d interviewed both Ness and Brand. Can’t say I was enamoured of either — Ness might stab you in the back, but Brand’s as likely to do it while looking you in the eye. Meantime, the forensic anthropologist reckons the car might not have lain in that spot throughout.’
‘Good news for those of us on the original search team.’
Clarke nodded from her corner of the sofa. Brillo had settled by her feet, curled into a ball. ‘Means there was maybe nothing in those woods for you to miss,’ she agreed.
In the silence that followed, Rebus kept his eyes on her. ‘Any time you’re ready,’ he said.
‘Ready?’
‘To say what you came here to say.’
She stiffened her back. ‘Derek Shankley turned up at Leith along with his father. Definitely the father’s idea, but it got me thinking.’
‘That’s because you’re a detective.’
‘See, Jackie Ness had hinted at something. Police raids on a club Stuart Bloom and Derek Shankley frequented.’
‘Rogues?’
Clarke nodded. ‘Stuart and Derek were never there, which could just be coincidence, of course.’
‘But Ness didn’t think so?’
‘If you ask me, Bloom had maybe bragged about it, or at least let something slip.’