Выбрать главу

She paid up and got back in her car, continuing up the slope. The diversion was still in place as work continued on flattening the St James Centre and the offices around it. She remembered when it had been a shopping destination. Clothes and gifts and CDs. But she didn’t recall a bookshop. As she crossed North Bridge, she looked to her right, admiring the view towards Castle Rock, illuminated against the night sky. Turning left at the lights, she was on Canongate and considering her options. It wasn’t too cold out there, and parked cars were thin on the ground, meaning she might stand out if she stayed in the car. So she turned into a side street and found a space.

She had her phone in her hand as she walked past the two empty phone boxes. Twenty paces on, she paused to study a shop window. Then she crossed the road and passed McKenzie’s, keeping on until she had reached the junction. Across the road and back down towards the phone boxes. It suddenly struck her: he might not even be working tonight. She could go in and see, but that might entail being recognised and scaring him off. So she ambled to the same shop window, then across the road and past the pub once more. Not too cold out? Had she really thought that? The chill was finding chinks in her armour at neck and wrist and ankle. Her breath clouded the air in front of her as she walked. A few more minutes and she would resort to plan B: her parked car.

She was crossing at the lights again when she saw a figure emerge from McKenzie’s, making for the call boxes. She had her own phone in her hand as she picked up the pace. She was making as if to pass the figure in the first box when her phone vibrated. She placed it against the glass, causing him to turn his head towards her. It was Dallas Meikle, tattoos and all. He looked startled for a moment before regaining his equilibrium, replacing the receiver in its cradle and pushing open the door.

‘Something you wanted to talk to me about, Mr Meikle?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Stalking is a criminal offence, if you didn’t know. Stalking a police officer can get you in even more trouble.’

‘I was just calling a mate.’ His eyes were everywhere but on hers.

‘I just filmed you making that call,’ she improvised. ‘It went straight to my phone. I’ve got logs of all the other times, too. Well over a dozen of them, all made while you were working your shift. Then there are your visits to my flat, the graffiti on my door — your car was caught on CCTV.’ She watched him accept the lie. ‘No way you’re not going to court,’ she stressed.

Suddenly his eyes met hers. There was a fire in them. ‘So how come you’re not arresting me?’

‘Maybe because I know who you are, which means I think you’re hurting.’

‘Hurt? You don’t know the first thing about it.’

‘This is because of Ellis, yes?’

‘It’s because you put a young kid in Saughton! Christ knows how he’ll survive!’

‘I wasn’t the only detective who worked that case.’

‘You’re the one I remember, though. It was always your name in the papers.’

‘Doesn’t explain how you got your hands on my number.’

A humourless grin spread across Dallas Meikle’s face. ‘Maybe you’re not as well-liked as you think, even among your own kind.’

Suddenly Clarke knew. ‘A couple of ACU officers called Steele and Edwards?’

Who had just failed to get the result they wanted, and needed to feel they’d come away with something, no matter how petty.

‘Phone number and address — I see you wiped the door clean.’ The grin was still in place. ‘Might need another visit.’

‘Just try it.’ The grin slipped slowly from Meikle’s face. ‘What did you hope to gain?’ Clarke asked into the silence.

He considered for a moment before answering. ‘I watched you lot in court. I saw what goes on behind the scenes. Little chats with the lawyers, because it’s just a job to you. Going through the motions with a tidy salary at the end of each month and fuck the consequences. Ellis is a good kid; you treated him like he was something you’d stepped in.’

‘I don’t agree with that. Besides which, he confessed.’

Meikle was shaking his head. ‘He told you he did it, but that’s not the same thing. He couldn’t lie to me when I asked him, so he just said nothing.’

‘The evidence was put to the jury...’

‘Fuck all of them, too. Let me tell you what they saw — they saw a kid from a broken home, no job and no college degree. They saw the picture your fiscal painted for them. They didn’t see Ellis.’ He seemed to be studying her, as if seeing her for the first time. ‘I’m not saying you didn’t do your job, any of you — I’m saying that was all you did.’

They were silent for a few moments. ‘So what happens now?’ Clarke asked. ‘Do I have to change my phone number and move house?’

‘Tell me this, do you ever give them a minute’s thought, Ellis and all the others you’ve put inside?’

‘It’s not really...’ Clarke broke off. ‘Maybe not as much as I could,’ she conceded.

He took this in, nodding slowly, looking her up and down, his face softening. ‘I really don’t think he stands a chance in there, and I’m positive he didn’t do it.’

Clarke had heard the words so many times from loved ones, friends, colleagues. She nodded slowly as an idea formed. ‘Say I got someone to take another look — a fresh pair of eyes. Just to convince you we played fair.’

‘But I don’t think you did play fair, Inspector.’

She held up a finger. ‘But if someone took another look...’

‘What?’

‘Would you go on the record with those names, the ones who gave you my number?’

‘I suppose I might.’

‘That’s not quite good enough.’

He fixed her with a look. ‘I’ll have to think.’

‘You do that — while I think about having you arrested.’

His mouth twitched. ‘All right then, yes, as long as you convince me you’ve been thorough.’

‘And meantime you’ll stop the calls and visits and I won’t press charges.’

She was waiting for him to nod his head in agreement, so he did, and when he looked down, he saw that her hand was waiting for him. He took it and shook, slow to release his grip.

‘How do I know I can trust you?’

‘You don’t,’ she answered, wresting her fingers free.

22

Rebus was in his kitchen when the call came: Bill Rawlston.

‘Hiya, Bill,’ he said, answering. ‘How did the rest of the interview go?’

‘Nothing I wasn’t expecting.’

‘Is that you done, do you think?’

‘Unless you’ve heard anything to the contrary.’

‘Maybe if you got your doctor to have a word, they wouldn’t bother you any further.’

‘I don’t want anyone’s pity, John. Sutherland phrased it perfectly — a result after all these years would taste all the sweeter.’

‘He’s got a way with words.’

‘So you’ve nothing new to tell me?’

Rebus had placed the handcuffs on the worktop in front of him. He pushed them around with a finger as he spoke. ‘Not really, Bill. It’s been one of those days where not much happens.’

Apart from Cafferty, Poretoun Woods, house and village, Steele and Edwards, Alex Shankley...

‘Well, keep me posted, eh?’

‘Will do, Bill. And look after yourself.’

He ended the call only for another to replace it.

‘Not interrupting anything?’ Clarke asked him.

‘Just my dinner.’

‘Cordon bleu, I don’t doubt.’

‘Does microwaved stovies count?’

‘Probably not.’