‘You’ve been in the house?’
Rebus shook his head. ‘But I’ve visited plenty like it.’
‘And if they are sleeping together?’
‘Ellis might not have been happy about it. Maybe he sees his mum cheating on his dad, and gets the notion his own girlfriend might not be all sugar and spice.’ Rebus lowered himself on to his armchair, still holding both coffee and croissant. ‘He’d been hanging out with his mates that day; maybe one of them said something. He lied to his mum about where he was going. Seems to me that might not be the only lie coming out of that house. Then there’s Kristen. Her pals say she hadn’t said anything about splitting up from Ellis, but maybe she’d made up her mind. Her parents had told her often enough they thought she could do better. I’m wondering if she took up with Ellis specifically to piss off her God-fearing parents — hardly the basis for a strong and stable romance.’
Clarke frowned in concentration. ‘Was any of that in the files?’
‘Some of it I was told.’
‘Who by?’
‘A couple of lads who know Ellis.’
‘So you have been to Restalrig?’
‘Never said I hadn’t. Bumped into the uncle while I was there. Another thing about Kristen, she liked to flirt — again, according to the word on the street. And when she was round at Ellis’s house...’
‘Her and Dallas?’
‘He told her there was a drink waiting behind the bar at McKenzie’s for her.’
‘He said that in front of Ellis?’
‘According to the two lads.’
‘She was only seventeen; she’d never have been served.’
‘Sure.’ Rebus bit into the croissant and chewed. Clarke had pulled out one of the dining table chairs and sat down. She sipped her coffee and gazed towards the piles of paper.
‘So now we have Ellis jealous of his uncle?’
‘Maybe.’
‘I’m not sure this is what Dallas wants to hear.’
‘He’s come to the wrong place for fairy tales and happy endings.’
She nodded. ‘So is that what I tell him?’
‘He won’t be thrilled.’
‘Which means he won’t give me Steele and Edwards.’ She looked at Rebus. ‘You’ve had no time at all, John. Maybe another few days?’
Rebus offered a shrug. ‘I’m not sure how many more spadefuls are there, Shiv. Unless...’
She put her cup down. ‘What?’
‘A visit to the prisoner.’
‘He won’t talk to you.’
‘A risk I’m willing to take.’
‘Maybe if you took Dallas with you...?’
But Rebus was shaking his head. ‘Could mean me getting a story rather than the story.’
‘Worth a shot,’ Clarke eventually conceded. Her phone was vibrating. She dug it from her pocket. ‘Got to take this,’ she said. Then, pressing the phone to her ear: ‘Yes, Graham?’
She listened for a moment. ‘No, that’s fine. Absolutely. Yes, of course I’ll come in. I can be there in twenty minutes.’ After ending the call, she stared at the screen.
‘I’m all for a bit of suspense,’ Rebus nudged her.
‘A potential break. Looks like my day off is buggered.’
‘Spit it out then.’
‘A fingerprint on the handcuffs. Well, a partial. It’s fragile but it’s there.’
‘And do we know who it belongs to?’
She looked at him but didn’t answer.
‘Christ’s sake, Siobhan, you can trust me not to blab!’
‘I know I can. And it’s Jackie Ness. The print seems a good match for Jackie Ness.’
‘Well, well,’ Rebus muttered, staring towards the window. ‘Don’t let me keep you then — not when you’ve justice to dispense.’
In the MIT office, Graham Sutherland was in conference with a fiscal depute. Clarke recognised the woman. Her name was Gillian Ramsay and Clarke had worked several previous cases with her. She was questioning Sutherland about the tests on the handcuffs. The partial had been identified because Ness had been fingerprinted during the original inquiry. Why? Because he had visited Bloom’s flat, and even been given a lift in his car once. When they dusted the flat, and if they tracked down the car... well, the prints were useful. Weren’t prints supposed to be expunged from the records after a time, though? It seemed these weren’t.
‘Defence counsel won’t like that,’ Ramsay said, making a note to herself.
‘We’re looking to see what else might be in the car; maybe a hair or something.’
‘But DCI Sutherland, we already know that Mr Bloom gave Mr Ness a ride home one night. A hair left behind doesn’t prove anything. Say the cuffs belonged to the victim, say they were lying there on the passenger seat and Mr Ness merely moved them?’
‘Why would Bloom keep handcuffs in his car?’
‘Wasn’t his partner the son of a serving police officer? Could the partner have acquired them, perhaps to be used during role play in the bedroom?’
‘I doubt it, but we can ask.’
‘You certainly will ask. Meantime, I’m minded to advise that there’s precious little here to form a serious criminal charge.’
‘But we can still bring him in?’
‘Of course. Accompanied by his solicitor and then asked some serious questions under caution, to be recorded for posterity.’
‘But not charged?’ Some of the air had escaped from Clarke’s boss. He’d sounded elated on the phone. Now, the balloon had sunk back to earth. Ramsay was gathering together her things.
‘Not quite yet,’ she answered, rising to her feet.
After she’d left, there was silence in the room until Sutherland collected himself, clearing his throat. ‘Forensic lab had the fingerprint by close of play Friday. Sat on it all bloody weekend while they swanned off to watch the football or rugby and go for long afternoon rambles. Don’t think I won’t be taking that to DCS Mollison. But meantime, we do have a positive ID. It’s not nothing — don’t go thinking it is. Procurator fiscal needs everything to be watertight pre-trial. Means they’re always sceptical. But this is something, and we need to run with it.’ He looked to Clarke. ‘What time do you think Ness gets to the office?’
‘Probably not before ten.’
‘So he’ll be at home until nine thirty, nine forty? It’s just gone nine now...’ He sought out Callum Reid. ‘Take George with you. Go wait at his office.’ To Clarke again: ‘Is there a receptionist?’ She nodded. ‘If she gets in first, don’t let her warn him. In fact, stay in the car till you see him.’
‘What does he look like?’ Gamble asked.
‘Like that photo there.’ Sutherland pointed to where Reid was standing, next to the map and the headshots. Reid tapped Ness’s.
‘He’s actually changed a bit since then,’ Clarke felt it necessary to qualify.
‘Fine,’ Sutherland said. ‘George, you stay. Siobhan, go with Callum.’ He saw the disappointment on Gamble’s face. ‘No need to be glum — if you’re a good boy, I might let you sit in on the interview.’ Then, switching his attention between Reid and Clarke: ‘Why in God’s name are you two still here?’
‘We’re not,’ Reid said, grabbing his coat on his way to the door.
Detective Constable Christine Esson made her way out of Gayfield Square police station and looked both ways before crossing the road and climbing into Rebus’s Saab.
‘Still got this old thing, I see,’ she said, closing the door.
‘Are you talking to me or the car?’
Esson decided this was worth a smile. Her hair was short and dark; Rebus had always seen a resemblance to Audrey Hepburn, though Siobhan Clarke had never agreed.