‘Because you’ve got other fish to fry?’
‘Stuart Bloom might have had a professional arrangement with a cameraman and sound recordist who worked for Ness.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘They helped him when it came to stuff like taping conversations and filming meetings.’
‘Really?’
‘It’s what Derek Shankley says.’
‘And this was just before Stuart disappeared?’
‘I’m not sure yet. Sounds like it’s coming as a surprise to you.’
‘It is.’
‘Derek says no one on the original inquiry thought to ask.’
‘He could have volunteered the information anyway.’
‘Yes, he could. But he didn’t. I think his feelings were hurt. You had him down as one of the main suspects. Plus you were managing to intimidate any friends of his you questioned.’
‘My heart bleeds.’
‘Do you remember questioning them at all — Colin Speke and Joe Madden?’
‘Not personally. If anyone did, it’ll be in the case notes.’
‘Unless Mary Skelton or Doug Newsome got sloppy...’
‘There is that,’ Rebus conceded. ‘Speke and Madden, you’re going to talk to them?’
‘If I can find them, yes.’
‘Well, in the meantime, maybe I can cheer you up.’
She looked at him. ‘How?’
‘By telling you something you don’t know.’
‘Try me.’
‘Big Ger Cafferty put some money into that zombies film.’
‘Old news.’
‘But he also spent a day watching it being made — at Poretoun Woods. What’s more, Ness tried selling those woods to him later on.’
‘You’ve been speaking to Cafferty.’ It was statement rather than question.
‘He passes along his regards.’
‘You’d love to tie him into this, wouldn’t you?’
‘Of course.’
‘You don’t think it’ll happen, though?’
‘A man can dream, can’t he? At the very least you could pull him in for a few questions, steal an hour or two from his day. It’s new information, Siobhan.’
‘I’ll add it to the list.’
‘You sound tired. You should take a break — nice wee drive to Gayfield Square for a look at the Meikle file.’ She saw that he was smiling a teasing smile. ‘I’m good, aren’t I?’ he said. ‘And with you gone, I can have that parking space.’
17
Fox came out into the reception area.
‘What can I do for you, John?’ he asked.
‘Maybe we could go upstairs and discuss it.’ Rebus’s eyes darted to where the officer behind the desk was pretending not to be interested.
‘Best if we don’t — conflict of interest and all that.’
Rebus pretended to consider this. ‘You’re keeping busy, then? No time for any of those old episodes of Wacky Races?’
Fox glared at him and gave a theatrical sigh. ‘On you come, then.’
He led the way up the staircase. ‘The pair of you need to be very careful,’ he said. ‘Only way Siobhan could have known about my meeting with Steele is if one of the media hanging around outside decided to tell her. My guess is, there’s only one candidate who would have been able to put names to faces.’
‘Laura Smith,’ Rebus stated. Then, when Fox nodded: ‘I just need a way to get in touch with Steele and Edwards.’
‘Why?’
‘Don’t worry, Malcolm, collusion hadn’t crossed my mind. Just been a while since I spoke to them.’
‘Aye, right.’ Fox had stopped outside the MIT office. He turned to face Rebus, arms folded. Rebus made a show of peering towards the room.
‘I’m parched, if you’re offering.’
‘There’s a café round the corner.’
Rebus studied him. ‘Found anything in those files, Malcolm, anything I should be worried about?’
‘See, that’s precisely why you can’t be here.’
The door to the interview room opened, three bodies emerging: Sutherland and Reid ushering Bill Rawlston out ahead of them.
‘All right, Bill?’ Rebus asked casually. ‘Did they torture a confession out of you?’
Rawlston shook Rebus’s hand. ‘I believe the phrase is: every courtesy was extended. Have they got you up next, John?’
‘Always happy to help the police with their enquiries.’
‘Maybe once we’re done with Mr Rawlston,’ Sutherland said. ‘This is by way of a tea break. He’s not feeling quite one hundred per cent.’
‘Sorry to hear that.’
‘Just a bit of a cold.’ The look Rawlston gave Rebus indicated that he didn’t want anything said about his cancer.
‘We were headed the same way,’ Rebus commented, opening the door and gesturing for Rawlston to enter the MIT office ahead of him. ‘Might not be enough mugs, mind...’
Sutherland gave Fox a questioning look, to which Fox had no ready answer. Rebus was playing host, adding a tea bag to a mug, switching on the kettle, asking Rawlston how he took it. Derek Shankley watched for a moment before rising to his feet and heading towards the throng of suits.
‘I know you,’ he said to Rebus.
‘I questioned you,’ Rebus agreed. ‘Just the one time, I think. Obviously I made an impression.’
‘Not a great one,’ Shankley commented. ‘But at least you didn’t call me a poof to my face; you just looked like you might.’
‘Different days now, Mr Shankley. I hope you’re finding that out.’
Shankley scanned the room. ‘Maybe,’ he eventually conceded. His eyes went back to Bill Rawlston. ‘You were in charge, weren’t you? I saw you on TV.’
Rawlston nodded. Shankley moved his attention to Rebus and then back to Rawlston again.
‘So two cops from the original inquiry are right here in the middle of the new one?’
‘It’s not how it looks,’ Sutherland felt compelled to say. ‘Mr Rawlston has been helping us with background—’
‘And him?’ Shankley pointed at Rebus.
‘Well, yes...’ Sutherland turned towards Fox. ‘Why is Mr Rebus here?’
‘Don’t go blaming DI Fox,’ Rebus broke in. ‘Front desk let me past. It was actually DI Clarke I was looking to speak to — nothing to do with this inquiry. DI Fox was trying to escort me off the premises when Mr Rawlston stopped to say hello.’
‘Yet somehow,’ Sutherland said, his irritation evident, ‘here you are in MIT, making cups of tea like you own the place.’
‘Guilty as charged.’ Rebus sought out Bill Rawlston. ‘I think they want you making your own brew.’
‘Malcolm,’ Sutherland said, ‘see that Mr Rebus leaves the building, quick as his legs will carry him.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Fox said, placing a hand lightly on Rebus’s forearm.
‘I’m not being grilled today then?’ Rebus made a show of confirming. ‘Well, you know where to find me when you want me.’
He walked slowly back towards the doorway, taking in what he could. He responded to George Gamble’s sneer with a wink, and heard a snatch of the phone call Phil Yeats was having with what sounded like the forensic lab at Howdenhall.
‘No further forward with the handcuffs?’ he asked Fox in a stage whisper.
‘Don’t suppose you lost a pair back then?’
‘You know fine well, Malcolm, plenty cops hang on to at least one set.’
‘Which neatly sidesteps my question.’
They were at the top of the stairs, the door closing behind them. Rebus stopped and turned to face Fox. ‘You can thank me later,’ he said.
‘For what?’
‘Lying about the front desk.’
‘You know Sutherland will give them a roasting? And when they deny letting you in, he’ll want me to explain myself.’