‘What do you think?’
‘I’ve seen the trial reports. She comes over like Princess Diana.’ Rebus paused. ‘Sorry, that’s way before your time.’
‘I know who you’re talking about. Kristen wasn’t exactly a princess, though.’
‘No?’
Meikle shook his head slowly. Rebus waited, but no more words came.
‘You finding your feet okay?’ he enquired.
‘Workshops and stuff, they keep us as busy as they can.’
‘Not enough warders though; hours spent in your cell?’
The young man nodded again, slowly lowering his arms and folding them.
‘Do you see your mum and sister?’
‘Once a week.’
‘They doing okay?’
‘What do you think?’
Rebus folded his own arms. An old trick. Copy the actions of the person opposite and they might begin to sense similarities rather than differences.
‘You got kids?’ Meikle asked into the silence.
‘Grown-up daughter. I’m a grandad these days. Do you see your dad?’
‘Not got a lot to say to him.’
‘I hear you two used to like a bit of a dust-up.’
‘Now and again,’ the young man conceded.
‘I’d have thought taking you to watch Hearts would have been punishment enough.’
This elicited a thin smile. ‘You a Hibbie?’
‘I’m agnostic.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘I try not to take sides.’
‘So are you a cop or what?’
‘Used to be. Retired now.’
‘How do you know Uncle Dallas?’
‘I’m not sure I really do. We’re both ex-army, so there’s that in common if nothing else. I’ve not met your dad yet, or your sister.’
‘They’ve got fuck all to do with this!’ Meikle’s voice had risen a notch, his throat tightening.
‘Easy, son,’ Rebus cautioned. One of the warders was moving in their direction. Rebus waved him away. Ellis Meikle angled his body forward, elbows on the table. Rebus did the same.
‘What’s done is done,’ Meikle said hoarsely.
‘That why you were okay with me visiting?’
‘Nobody can change what happened. I’m in here and that’s all there is to it. Best you go tell Dallas that.’
‘You wouldn’t rather be outside, though? There might be something that could help you, something you’ve not told anyone. Mitigating factors, we call them.’
‘Lawyer said the same thing — didn’t do any good.’
‘Keeping your mouth shut didn’t exactly help your case, Ellis. Did something happen that day at home? Something that got your dander up, kept you seething all the way to the golf course? Did Kristen tell you something? Or your mum or Uncle Dallas? Had to be to your face — your phone was checked and there was nothing there. But this Jekyll and Hyde thing sometimes happens; a person’s fine until they’re not. Something changes them, and they go and do something, and then they’re back to normal again.’
‘Normal? You don’t know us at all, do you?’
‘Your family, you mean?’ Rebus shook his head. ‘I’ve talked to some of your mates, though, and they all gave me pretty much the same answer.’
‘What?’
‘She made you do it.’
‘Kristen?’
Rebus nodded, maintaining eye contact. ‘The not-quite-princess we didn’t hear about at the trial.’
‘I heard they made a shrine for her. Have you seen it?’
‘At the bunker?’ Rebus nodded again.
‘It’s still there after all these months...’ The young man nodded to himself. ‘That’s who she is then. It’s all over the net so it must be true.’
‘Plenty of shite on the internet, Ellis. I hardly ever use it and even I know that.’ Rebus paused. ‘Just do one thing for me — look me in the eye and tell me you did it.’
Meikle focused on him, unblinking. ‘I did it,’ he said.
Rebus found himself nodding once more, and puckering his lips as he did so.
‘I think you’re lying,’ he commented.
‘I stabbed her in the neck. She bled out on to the sand, her knees going from under her.’
‘Then tell me why.’
Meikle blinked twice. ‘What else was I going to do?’ he said, rising to his feet as the warder appeared behind him.
‘Time’s up,’ the warder announced.
Rebus got up from the table, watching as Ellis Meikle was led away. What else was I going to do? What the hell did that mean? The other visitors were saying their goodbyes to loved ones. As the prisoners headed one way, the visitors were escorted back down the corridor. A warder was waiting halfway, resting against a door. He stopped Rebus with a gesture.
‘Got a minute?’ he asked. Rebus watched as the corridor emptied.
‘What’s up?’
‘Someone wants a word.’ The warder pulled open the door and Rebus stepped inside the prison library, a small room with half-filled shelves of well-used books. The door closed behind him, the warder staying outside. Rebus didn’t see anyone at first. There was no one behind the desk. But then he heard a noise and half turned as a familiar face appeared from behind a stack. Darryl Christie had changed since his trial, his face puffy, skin sallow and with an unhealthy sheen to it. Warders as well as prisoners took on the same complexion eventually. A prison tan, it was called.
‘Mr Rebus,’ Christie said, holding out a hand for Rebus to shake.
‘Thought you were in Barlinnie, Darryl.’
‘They moved me. Closer to my family here. I can still pull a string or two when I want.’
‘That how you knew I was here?’
Christie just smiled. ‘Keeping out of mischief yourself?’
‘Just barely.’
‘I’ve been reading about the Bloom case. Going to be a few spankings there, eh?’
‘You’re well informed.’
Christie stretched his arms wide. ‘The university of life.’
Rebus glanced towards the door. It remained closed. ‘You seem to have made friends.’
‘A few quid here and there keeps people sweet. So what brings you to this neck of the swamp?’
‘Just visiting someone.’
‘Ellis Meikle.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Why, though?’
‘I’m a friend of the family.’
‘No you’re not.’
‘His uncle Dallas and me were in the army together.’
‘Dallas Meikle? You’re old enough to be his dad. Want to try spinning me another?’
Rebus thought for a moment. ‘They’ve got him in with the sex offenders — would you be able to pull a string or two there?’
‘I might.’
‘Or keep an eye on the lad at least, make sure trouble doesn’t find him?’
Christie took his time answering, pulling a book from a shelf and studying its jacket before returning it.
‘Answer me this first — is Cafferty your bestie or your enemy?’
The scene played out suddenly in Rebus’s memory: Cafferty’s flat; Christie with a gun pointed at Rebus’s face; knocked cold by the hammer Cafferty swung at him.
‘He tried visiting you,’ Rebus answered.
‘To rub it in my face. He goes to my club every night, sits in my chair, orders my people around.’ Christie’s anger was growing, his whole body tensing. Rebus had shuffled back a few steps so he was close to the door. Christie had noticed.
‘I’m not going to do anything to you! It’s him I want.’ He gestured towards a computer behind the reception desk. ‘They let me use it for research. I know as much about Morris Gerald Cafferty as anyone — except maybe you, John. So tell me what I need to know — are you two bosom buddies or what?’