She glowered at Rebus. ‘Long enough.’
‘You must be about the same age as him — you didn’t go to school together or anything?’
‘Anthony was educated privately. I went to Boroughmuir.’ She paused. ‘And he’s six years older than me.’
Rebus smiled an apology.
‘It seems to me,’ Fox said, ‘that you know him and care about him. We think he’s in some kind of trouble, Ms Sewell, and we want to help. So if you do know anything, this is your chance.’ He paused to let his words sink in, handing her his business card.
She glanced at it. ‘I don’t think I saw your ID,’ she said to Rebus.
‘I don’t have any on me.’
‘Not a police officer then? HMRC? FCA?’
‘Expecting a visit, are you?’
She ignored him and opened a drawer instead, dropping the card into it. ‘I’d like to go home now, if that’s all right with you.’
‘Have you considered reporting him as a missing person?’ Fox asked, as she started getting to her feet and buttoning her short woollen coat.
‘If I don’t hear from him in the next few days.’
‘I’m assuming this is out of character for Mr Brough?’
‘He has been known to take a notion — London for the night, a horse race in France...’
‘He’s a betting man, then?’
‘That’s something you’d have to ask him.’
‘We will — if and when he turns up.’
‘You really can’t think anything’s happened to him? Anything serious, I mean?’
‘If he’s had a falling-out with Darryl Christie,’ Rebus said, ‘it’s entirely possible. Something you’d do well to bear in mind.’
They waited while she turned off the lights again and set the alarm. Rebus reckoned he knew which door must be Brough’s office, so he tried it, but it was locked.
‘Maybe bring a warrant next time,’ Sewell told him.
‘I’ll be sure to,’ he said.
Clarke had guessed that Darryl would have moved his mother and brothers into the boutique hotel he owned on one of the New Town’s steep north — south streets. She explained as much to Alvin James, but when they got there the front desk denied any knowledge.
‘We’re police, remember,’ Clarke told the fashion model who seemed to have ended up working as a receptionist. ‘I know Darryl has to be cagey, but not with us.’
‘They’re really not here — both floors are closed for renovations.’
And sure enough, the carpet leading to the staircase had been covered with clear polythene, as had the staircase itself.
‘Sorry about that,’ Clarke apologised as she marched back out to her car.
‘Not your fault, Siobhan,’ James said. ‘If you’d phoned and been given that story, you’d still have felt the need to come see for yourself.’
She glanced at him. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Any good detective would do the same. Where to now?’
‘Darryl’s house, maybe. It’s five minutes away.’
‘Lead on, then.’
She took him the long way round, so he could take in the Botanic Gardens and Inverleith Park. He gazed at the imposing detached stone houses.
‘Could I get one of these on a CID wage?’ he asked.
‘Not even if you were Chief Constable.’
They parked on the street and got out. There were no cars in the driveway. ‘I don’t see his Range Rover,’ Clarke said, preparing James for another dead end. But when she rang the doorbell, she could hear a noise from inside. The door opened and Gail McKie stood there. While Clarke was trying to hide her surprise, James asked if Cal was home.
‘What’s the story now?’ McKie demanded.
‘Just a couple of questions.’
‘I’ve already told you he didn’t see anything.’
James looked puzzled. ‘She means the attack on Darryl,’ Clarke explained.
‘We’d still like to talk with him,’ James nudged.
‘With me in the room?’ McKie paused. ‘Or our solicitor?’
‘You’re free to sit in, Ms McKie,’ James decided. ‘Though Cal might not be too thrilled...’
They waited in the chintzy living room while she went upstairs to fetch Cal. He walked in looking sulky, shoulders hunched, avoiding eye contact. His black spiky hair looked dyed, and there were acne scars on his cheeks.
‘Didn’t see nothing,’ he stated without preamble. ‘Got nothing to say.’ He dumped himself on one of the chairs, fingers gripping the armrests.
‘That’s not why we’re here,’ James said. Like Clarke, he had remained on his feet. McKie had lowered herself on to the sofa, curling her legs under her, staring hard at the two detectives. ‘We’re here about the Tomahawk Club. The night you and your pals were refused entry.’
Cal was trying to stop his face from reddening as his mother turned her gaze on him.
‘What’s this?’ she asked.
‘They’re lying,’ he spluttered.
James eased the CCTV prints from his pocket. ‘We have evidence to the contrary. We already know one name — a Mr Hodges — but we need the other two.’
‘Why?’
‘Because a threat was made to the doorman, Ms McKie. Rather a serious threat.’
‘By you?’ Her eyes were drilling into her son. He shook his head.
‘It was Dandy,’ he said.
‘I thought I’d told you to stop hanging around with that toerag!’
Cal squirmed.
‘He’s nothing but trouble — always has been!’
‘Can I assume Dandy is a nickname of some kind?’ Clarke interrupted.
‘His name’s Daniel Reynolds. Lives in Lochend. He used to go to school with Cal.’
‘Dandy’s all right,’ Cal added.
‘He threatened to kill the doorman?’ James asked.
Cal squirmed some more. ‘He might’ve said he’d be back to cut him. He was just acting up — putting on a show.’
‘There was one other young male with you?’
‘Roddy Cape. He’s a year above me at college.’
‘Are you the only one who’s underage, Cal?’ Clarke checked.
Cal nodded. ‘He was going to let the rest of them in — just not me. I think he wanted to see what we’d do. Like he was trying to get us worked up. Harry stepped in to keep the peace, and that was that.’
‘Who’s Harry?’ Gail McKie demanded. Cal pursed his lips.
‘He works for Darryl,’ Clarke answered her. ‘He was on babysitting duty — is that right, Cal? Making sure the evening went smoothly?’
‘I suppose,’ Cal admitted.
‘There we are then,’ McKie said. ‘A doorman was given some verbals, but not by my son. So you can go take your witch hunt elsewhere.’
‘The doorman ended up dead, Ms McKie,’ James informed her. For the first time, Cal looked up, his mouth opening soundlessly. ‘So you can see that we have to look at anyone who might have held a grudge. Right now, I’d say that includes Daniel Reynolds.’
‘Cal,’ Clarke asked softly, ‘does Dandy carry a blade?’
‘How would I know?’
‘Because he’s probably the sort who’d want his mates to know.’
‘He’s mouthy, but that’s as far as it goes. Besides, he knows when he’s out with me he’s got all the protection he needs.’
‘Because your brother is Darryl Christie?’ Clarke nodded slowly. ‘But someone got to Darryl, didn’t they? Someone proved he’s human.’
‘And what are the police doing about that?’ Gail McKie snarled, folding her arms. ‘They arrest the guy but then let him go and focus instead on this, because an assault on one of their own always takes precedence.’
‘Murder rather than assault,’ Clarke corrected her.
‘You know what I mean, though — one law for us, one law for you. Always has been and always will.’ She swung her legs off the sofa. ‘Are we done here?’