‘We’re still checking the machine for deleted messages,’ Siobhan led blithely. ‘Any idea when your last message to or from her would have been?’
‘Maybe as much as a year back.’ Marr started getting to his feet. ‘Now, if we’re quite finished, I really must...’
‘If you hadn’t told her about deleting, we might have him by now.’
‘Who?’
‘Quizmaster.’
‘The person she was playing this game against? You still think that had something to do with her death?’
‘I’d like to know.’
Marr was standing now, smoothing his jacket. ‘Is that possible, without the help of this... Quizmaster?’
Siobhan looked to Bain, who knew a cue when he saw one.
‘Oh, yes,’ he said confidently. ‘It’ll take a bit longer, but we’ll trace him. He’s left enough bits and pieces for us along the way.’
Marr looked from one detective to the other. ‘Splendid,’ he said with a smile. ‘Well, if I can be of further assistance...’
‘You’ve helped us enormously already, Mr Marr,’ Siobhan said, fixing her eyes on him. ‘I’ll have one of the uniformed officers show you out...’
After he’d gone, Bain pulled his chair back around to Siobhan’s side of the desk and sat down next to her.
‘You think it’s him, don’t you?’ he asked quietly.
She nodded, staring at the doorway through which Marr had just left. Then her shoulders slumped. She squeezed shut her eyes, rubbed at them. ‘Truth is, I haven’t a clue.’
‘You also don’t have any evidence.’
She nodded, eyes still closed.
‘Gut feeling?’ he guessed.
She opened her eyes. ‘I know better than to trust it.’
‘Glad to hear it.’ He smiled at her. ‘Some proof would be nice, wouldn’t it?’
When the phone rang, Siobhan seemed in a dream, so Bain answered. It was a Special Branch officer called Black. He wanted to know if he was speaking to the right person. When Bain assured him he was, Black asked how much he knew about computers.
‘I know a bit.’
‘Good. Is the PC in front of you?’ When Bain said that it was, Black told him what he wanted. When Bain came off the phone five minutes later, he puffed out his cheeks and exhaled noisily.
‘I don’t know what it is about Special Branch,’ he said, ‘but they always make me feel about five years old and starting my first day at school.’
‘You sounded okay,’ Siobhan assured him. ‘What do they need?’
‘Copies of all the e-mails between you and Quizmaster, plus details of Philippa Balfour’s ISP account and user names, plus the same for you.’
‘Except it’s Grant Hood’s machine,’ Siobhan said, touching the laptop.
‘Well, his account details then.’ He paused. ‘Black asked if we had any suspects.’
‘You didn’t tell him?’
He shook his head. ‘But we could always send him Marr’s name. We could even provide his e-mail address.’
‘Would that help?’
‘It might. You know the Americans can read e-mails using satellites? Any e-mails in the world...’ She just stared at him, and he laughed. ‘I’m not saying Special Branch have that sort of technology, but you never know, do you?’
Siobhan was thoughtful. ‘Then give them what we’ve got. Give them Ranald Marr.’
The laptop told them they had a message. Siobhan clicked it open. Quizmaster.
Seeker — We meet on completion of Stricture. Acceptable?
‘Ooh,’ Bain said, ‘he’s actually asking you.’
So game isn’t closed? Siobhan typed back.
Special dispensation.
She typed another message: There are questions need answering right now.
An immediate reply: Ask, Seeker.
So she asked: Was anyone playing the game apart from Flip?
They waited a minute for the response.
Yes.
She looked at Bain. ‘He said before that there wasn’t.’
‘He was either lying then, or he’s lying now. Fact that you asked the question again makes me think you didn’t believe him first time round.’
How many? Siobhan typed.
Three.
Pitted against each other? Did they know?
They knew.
They knew who they were playing against?
A thirty-second pause. Absolutely not.
‘Truth or lie?’ Siobhan asked Bain.
‘I’m busy wondering if Mr Marr’s had enough time to get back to his office.’
‘Someone in his profession, wouldn’t surprise me if he kept a laptop and mobile in the car, just to stay ahead of the game.’ She smiled at the unmeant pun.
‘I could call his office...’ Bain was already reaching for the phone. Siobhan recited the bank’s number.
‘Mr Marr’s office, please,’ Bain said into the receiver. Then: ‘Is that Mr Marr’s assistant? It’s DS Bain here, Lothian Police. Could I have a word with Mr Marr?’ He looked at Siobhan. ‘Due back any minute? Thank you.’ Then an afterthought. ‘Oh, is there any way I could contact him in his car? He doesn’t have access to e-mails there, does he?’ A pause. ‘No, it’s okay, thank you. I’ll call again later.’ He put the phone down. ‘No in-car e-mails.’
‘As far as his assistant knows,’ Siobhan said quietly.
Bain nodded.
‘These days,’ she went on, ‘all you need is a phone.’ A WAP phone, she was thinking, just like Grant’s. For some reason her mind flashed to that morning in the Elephant House... Grant busy on a crossword he’d already completed, trying to impress the woman at the next table... She got to work on her next message:
Can you tell me who they were? Do you know who they are? The reply was immediate.
No.
No you can’t or no you don’t?
No to both. Stricture awaits.
One final thing, Master. How did you come to choose Flip?
She came to me, as you did.
But how did she find you?
Stricture clue will follow shortly.
‘I think he’s had enough,’ Bain said. ‘Probably not used to his slaves talking back.’
Siobhan thought about trying to keep the dialogue going, then nodded her agreement.
‘I don’t think I’m quite Grant Hood’s standard,’ Bain added. She frowned, not understanding. ‘In the puzzle-solving department,’ he explained.
‘Let’s wait and see about that.’
‘Meantime, I can get that stuff PDQ’d to SB.’
‘AOK,’ Siobhan said with a smile. She was thinking of Grant again. She wouldn’t have got this far without him. Yet since his transfer he hadn’t shown the least curiosity, hadn’t so much as called to find out if there were some new clue to be solved... She wondered at his ability to switch focus so completely. The Grant she saw on TV was almost unrecognisable from the one who’d paced her flat at midnight, the one who’d lost heart on Hart Fell. She knew which model she preferred; didn’t think it was just professional jealousy. She thought she’d learned something about Gill Templer now. Gill was running scared, terror of her new seniority causing her to dish it out to the juniors. She was targeting the keen and the confident, maybe because she lacked confidence in herself. Siobhan hoped it was just a phase. She prayed it was.
She hoped that when Stricture came through, the busy Grant might spare a minute for his old sparring partner, whether his new sponsor liked it or not.