Strip Jack

Rebus nodded. Throwing all those books around the shop in his grief and his anger… 'Not only dead, but murdered. And the last he saw of her, she was waiting for Gregor.'

'So,' said Watson, 'he must know Jack did it? Is that what you're suggesting?'

'You think,' Lauderdale said, 'Steele's run off to protect Gregor Jack?'

'I don't think anything of the sort,' said Rettus. 'But if Gregor Jack is the murderer, then Ronald Steele has known for some time that he is. Why hasn't he done anything? Think about it: how could he come to the police He was in way too deep himself. It would mean explaining everything, and explaining it would make him if anything a bigger suspect than Gregor Jack himself!'

'So what would he do?'

Rebus shrugged. 'He might try persuading Jack to come forward.'

'But that would mean admitting to Jack that -'

'Exactly, that he was Elizabeth Jack's lover. what would you do in Jack's position?'

Holmes dared to supply the answer. 'I'd kill him. I'd kill Ronald Steele.'

Rebus sat all that evening in Patience's living room, an arm around her as they both watched a video. A romantic comedy; only there wasn't much romance and precious little comedy. You knew from reel one that the secretary would go off with the bucktoothed student and not with her bloodsucking boss. But you kept on watching anyway. Not that he was taking much of it in. He was thinking about Gregor Jack about the person he'd seemed to be and the person he really was. You peeled away layer after layer, stripped the bone and beyond… and never found the truth. Strip Jack Naked: a card game, also known as Beggar my neighbour. Patience was a card game, too. He stroked her hair, her forehead.

'That's nice.'

Patience was a game easily won.

The film rolled past him. Another foil had entered the picture, a big-hearted con man. Rebus had yet to meet a con man in real life who was anything but the most predatory shark. What was the phrase? – they'd steal your false teeth and drink the water out of the glass. Well, mabye this con man was in with a chance. The secretary was interested, but she was loyal to her boss too, and he was doing everything short of whipping his sausage out and slapping it on her desk.

'A penny for them."

'They're not worth it, Patience.' They'd find Steele, they'd find Jack. Why couldn't he relax? He kept thinking of a set of clothes and a note, left on a beach. Stonehouse. Lucan had done it, hadn't he, disappeared without trace? It wasn't easy, but all the same…

The next thing he knew, Patience was shaking him by the shoulder.

'Wake up, John. Time for bed.'

He'd been asleep for an hour. 'The con man or the student?' he asked.

'Neither,' she said. 'The boss changed his ways and gave her a partnership in the firm. Now come on, partner…' She held her hands out to help him up on to his feet. 'After all, tomorrow is another day…"

Another day, another dolour. Thursday. Two weeks since they'd found Elizabeth Jack's body. Now all they could do was wait… and hope no more bodies turned up. Rebus picked up his office phone. It was Lauderdale.

'The Chief Super's bitten the bullet,' he told Rebus. 'We're holding a press conference, putting out wanteds on both of them, Steele and Jack.'

'Does Sir Hugh know yet?'

'I wouldn't want to be the one who tells him. He marches in here with his son-in-law, not knowing the bugger killed his daughter? No, I wouldn't want to be the one who tells him.'

'Am I supposed to be there?'

'Of course, and bring Holmes, too. After all, he's the one who spotted the car…'

The line went dead. Rebus stared at the receiver. Alsatian bites man after all…

Spotted it and told Nell about it all last night. Repeating the story, adding missed details, hardly able to sit down. Until she'd screeched at him to stop or else she'd go off her head. That calmed him down a little, but not much.

'You see, Nell, if they'd told me earlier, if they'd let me in on the whole story of the car colours, of why they were needed, well, we'd have nailed him all the sooner, wouldn't we? I don't want to, but really I blame John. It was him who…"

'I thought you said it was Lauderdale who gave you the job in the first place?'

'Yes, true, but even so John should have-'

'Shut up! For God's sake, just shut up!'

'Mind you, you're right, Laud-'

'Shutup!'

He shut up.

And now here he was at the press conference, and there was Inspector Gill Templer, who had such a rapport with the press, handing out sheets of paper – the official release – and generally making sure that everyone knew what was going on. And Rebus, of course, looking the same as ever. Which was to say, tired and suspicious. Watson and Lauderdale hadn't made their entrance yet, but would do so soon.

'Well, Brian,' said Rebus quietly, 'reckon they'll promote you to Inspector for this?'

'No.'

'What then? You look like a kid who's about to get the school prize.'

'Come on, be fair. We all know you did most of the work.'

'Yes, but you stopped me haring after the wrong man.'

'So?'

'So now I owe you a favour.' Rebus grinned. 'I hate owing favours.'

'Ladies and gentlemen,' came Gill Templer's voice, 'if you'll find yourselves a seat we can start…'

A moment later Watson and Lauderdale entered the room. Watson was first to speak.

'I think you all know why we've called this conference.' He paused. 'We're looking for two men we think may be able to help us with a certain inquiry, a murder inquiry. The names are Ronald Adam Steele and Gregor Gordon Jack…'

The local evening paper had it in by its lunchtime edition. The radio stations were broadcasting the names in their hourly news slots. The early evening TV news carried the story. The usual questions were being asked, to which the usual 'no comment's were being appended. But the phone call itself came only at half past six. The call was from Dr Frank Forster.

I'd have known sooner, Inspector, only we don't like to let the patients listen to the news. It just upsets them. It's only when I was getting ready to go home that I turned on the radio in my office…'

Rebus was tired. Rebus was terribly, terribly tired. 'What is it, Dr Forster?'

'It's your man Jack, Gregor Jack. He was here this afternoon. He was visiting Andrew Macmillan.'

13 Hot-Head

It was nine that evening when Rebus reached Duthil Hospital. Andrew Macmillan was sitting in Forster's office, arms folded, waiting.

'Hello again,' he said.

'Hello, Mr Macmillan.'

There were five of them: two 'nurses', Dr Forster, Macmillan and Rebus. The nurses stood behind Macmillan's chair, their bodies less than two inches from his.

'We've sedated him,' Forster had explained to Rebus. 'He may not be as talkative as usual, but he should stay calm. I heard about what happened last time…'

'Nothing happened last time, Dr Forster. He just wanted to have a normal conversation. What's wrong with that?'

Macmillan looked on the verge of sleep. His eyes were heavy-lidded, his smile fixed. He unfolded his arms and rested the hands delicately on his knees, reminding Rebus at that moment of Mrs Corbie…

'Inspector Rebus wants to ask you about Mr Jack,' explained Forster.

'That's right,' said Rebus, resting against the edge of the desk. There was a chair for him, but he was stiff after the drive. I was wondering why he visited. It's unusual after all, isn't it?'

'It's a first,' corrected Macmillan. 'They should put up a plaque. When I saw him come in, I thought he must be here to open an extension or something. But no, he just walked right up to me…" His hands were moving now, carving air, his eyes held by the movements they made. 'Walked right up to me, and he said… he said, "Hello, Mack." Just like that. Like we'd seen one another the day before, like we saw one another every day.'