‘Philippa, God rest her soul.’ Then he drank deeply. Rebus had smelt the whisky on his breath, knew this wasn’t his first of the day. Probably not the first time he’d made the toast either. If they’d been alone together, they would have exchanged information about one another’s home lodge — and Rebus might have been in trouble — but with Siobhan here, he was safe. He rolled a red ball across the table, where it rebounded from the cushion.
‘So,’ Marr said, ‘what is it you want this time?’
‘Hugo Benzie,’ Rebus said.
The name caught Marr by surprise. His eyebrows lifted, and he took another pull on his drink.
‘You knew him?’ Rebus guessed.
‘Not very well. His daughter was at school with Philippa.’
‘Did he bank with you?’
‘You know I can’t discuss the bank’s business. It wouldn’t be ethical.’
‘You’re not a doctor,’ Rebus said. ‘You just keep people’s money for them.’
Marr’s eyes narrowed. ‘We do a sight more than that.’
‘What? You mean lose money for them too?’
Marr leaped to his feet. ‘What the hell has this got to do with Philippa’s murder?’
‘Just answer the question: did Hugo Benzie have his money invested with you?’
‘Not with us, through us.’
‘You advised him?’
Marr refilled his glass. Rebus glanced towards Siobhan. She knew her place in this, was keeping quiet, standing in the shadows beyond the baize.
‘You advised him?’ Rebus asked again.
‘We advised him against taking risks.’
‘But he wouldn’t listen?’
‘What’s life without a bit of risk: that was Hugo’s philosophy. He gambled... and lost.’
‘Did he hold Balfour’s responsible?’
Marr shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Poor bugger just did away with himself.’
‘What about his wife and daughter?’
‘What about them?’
‘Did they bear a grudge?’
He shook his head again. ‘They knew what kind of man he was.’ He put his glass down on the rim of the billiard table. ‘But what’s this got...?’ Then he seemed to realise. ‘Ah, you’re still looking for motives... and you think a dead man has risen from his grave to seek revenge on Balfour’s Bank?’
Rebus rolled another ball across the table. ‘Stranger things have happened.’
Siobhan walked forward now, and handed the sheet of paper to Marr. ‘You remember I asked about games?’
‘Yes.’
‘This clue here.’ She pointed to the one relating to Rosslyn Chapel. ‘What do you make of it?’
He narrowed his eyes in concentration. ‘Nothing at all,’ he said, handing it back.
‘Can I ask if you’re a member of a masonic lodge, Mr Marr?’
Marr glared at her. Then his eyes flickered in Rebus’s direction. ‘I’m not going to dignify that question with a response.’
‘You see, Philippa was given this clue to solve, and so was I. And when I saw the words “mason’s dream”, I had to find a member of a lodge to ask what it meant.’
‘And what did it mean?’
‘That’s not important. What may be important is whether Philippa sought help along the same lines.’
‘I’ve already told you, I knew nothing about any of this.’
‘But she might have slipped something into the conversation...?’
‘Well, she didn’t.’
‘Any other Masons of her acquaintance, Mr Marr?’ Rebus asked.
‘I wouldn’t know. Look, I really think I’ve given you enough time... today of all days.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Rebus said. ‘Thank you for seeing us.’ He held out his hand again, but this time Marr didn’t take it. He walked to the door in silence, opened it, and walked out. Rebus and Siobhan followed him back down the hallway. Templer and Hood were standing in the entrance hall. Marr passed them without a word and disappeared through a door.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Templer asked in an undertone.
‘Trying to catch a killer,’ Rebus told her. ‘How about you?’
‘You looked good on the telly,’ Siobhan said to Hood.
‘Thanks.’
‘Yes, Grant did bloody well,’ Templer said, her attention deflected from Rebus on to Siobhan. ‘I couldn’t be more pleased.’
‘Me neither,’ Siobhan said with a smile.
They left the house and got into their respective cars. Templer’s parting shot: ‘I’ll want a report explaining your presence here. And John? The doctor’s waiting...’
‘Doctor?’ Siobhan asked, doing up her seat-belt.
‘It’s nothing,’ Rebus said, turning the ignition.
‘Has she got it in for you as well as me?’
Rebus turned to her. ‘Gill wanted you by her side, Siobhan. You turned that down.’
‘I wasn’t ready.’ She paused. ‘You know, this is going to sound daft, but I think she’s jealous.’
‘Of you?’
Siobhan shook her head. ‘Of you.’
‘Me?’ Rebus laughed. ‘Why would she be jealous of me?’
‘Because you don’t play by the rules, and she has to. Because despite yourself, you always seem to get people working for you, even when they don’t agree with what you’re asking them to do.’
‘I must be better than I think.’
She looked at him slyly. ‘Oh, I think you know how good you are. At least, you think you do.’
He returned her look. ‘There’s an insult buried in there somewhere, but I can’t quite see it.’
Siobhan sat back in her seat. ‘So what now?’
‘Back to Edinburgh.’
‘And?’
Rebus was thoughtful as he eased the car back down the driveway. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘Back there, you’d almost have thought Marr had lost his own kid...’
‘You’re not saying...?’
‘Did he look like her at all? I’m useless at that.’
Siobhan thought about it, gnawing her lip. ‘Rich people all look the same to me. You think Marr and Mrs Balfour could have had an affair?’
Rebus shrugged. ‘Hard to prove without a blood test.’ He glanced in her direction. ‘Better make sure Gates and Curt keep a sample.’
‘And Claire Benzie?’
Rebus gave a wave to WPC Campbell. ‘Claire’s interesting, but we don’t want to rattle her chain.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because a year or three from now, she could be our friendly local pathologist. I may not be around to see it, but you will, and the last thing you want is...’
‘Bad blood?’ Siobhan guessed with a smile.
‘Bad blood,’ Rebus agreed with a slow nod.
Siobhan was thoughtful. ‘But whichever way you look at it, she has every right to feel pissed off with the Balfours.’
‘Then how come she was still friends with Flip?’
‘Maybe she was playing a game of her own.’ As they drove back down the lane, she kept her eyes open for the tourists, but didn’t see them. ‘Should we check Meadowside, see if they’re all right?’
Rebus shook his head. They were silent once more until they’d left Falls far behind.
‘Marr’s a Mason,’ Siobhan said at last. ‘And he likes playing games.’
‘So now he’s the Quizmaster rather than Claire Benzie?’
‘I think it’s more likely than him turning out to be Flip’s father.’
‘Sorry I spoke.’ Rebus was thinking of Hugo Benzie. Before driving out to Falls, he’d rung a lawyer friend and asked about him. Benzie had specialised in wills and trusts, a quiet and efficient solicitor, part of a large practice in the city. The gambling wasn’t common knowledge, and had never interfered with his work. The rumour was, he’d stuck money into Far East start-ups, guided by tip-offs and the financial pages of his favoured daily paper. If this were true, then Rebus couldn’t see Balfour’s as culpable. Probably all they’d done was channel the money on his instructions, then had to call time when it disappeared up the Yangtze. Benzie hadn’t just lost all his money — as a lawyer he could always earn more. To Rebus’s mind, he’d lost something much more substantiaclass="underline" his faith in himself. Having stopped believing in himself, it was probably easy to start believing in suicide as an option, and sometime thereafter as absolute necessity. Rebus had been there himself once or twice, with the bottle and the darkness for company. He knew he couldn’t leap from a high place: he was scared of heights, had been ever since they’d dropped him from a helicopter during his army days. Warm bath and a razor across the wrists... the problem there was the mess, the thought of someone, friend or stranger, confronted with such a tableau. Booze and pills... it always came down to those essential drugs. Not at home, but in some anonymous hotel room, discovered by the staff. Just another lonely corpse as far as they’d be concerned.