‘See you around some time.’
‘You never know your luck...’
Rebus put the phone down and waited, staring at it. But no more calls came. He went to the kitchen to make a mug of tea, and discovered he was out of tea-bags and milk. Without bothering with a jacket, he headed downstairs and out to the local deli, where he added some ham, rolls and mustard to the shopping. Back at the main door to the tenement, someone was trying one of the buzzers.
‘Come on, I know you’re there...’
‘Hello, Siobhan.’
She turned towards him. ‘Christ, you gave me a...’ She put a hand to her throat. Rebus stretched an arm past her and unlocked the door.
‘Because I sneaked up on you, or because you thought I was sitting upstairs with my wrists slashed?’ He held the door open for her.
‘What? No, that’s not what I was thinking.’ But the colour was rising to her cheeks.
‘Well, just to stop you worrying, if I’m ever going to top myself, it’ll be with a lot of drink and some pills. And by “a lot” I mean two or three days’ worth, so you’ll have plenty of warning.’
He preceded her up the stairs, opened his front door.
‘Your lucky day,’ he said. ‘Not only am I not dead, but I can offer tea and rolls with ham and mustard.’
‘Just tea, thanks,’ she said, finally regaining some composure. ‘Hey, the hall looks great!’
‘Take a look around. I may as well get used to it.’
‘You mean it’s on the market?’
‘As from next week.’
She opened a bedroom door, stuck her head round. ‘Dimmer switch,’ she commented, trying it out.
Rebus went into the kitchen and stuck the kettle on, found two clean mugs in the cupboard. One of them said ‘World’s Greatest Dad’. It wasn’t his; one of the sparkies must have left it. He decided Siobhan could have her tea in it, he’d have the taller one with the poppies and the chipped rim.
‘You didn’t paint the living room,’ she said, coming into the kitchen.
‘It was done not so long ago.’
She nodded. There was something he wasn’t saying, but she wasn’t going to force it.
‘You and Grant still an item then?’ he asked.
‘We never were. And that’s the subject closed.’
He got the milk from the fridge. ‘Better be careful, you’ll be getting a rep.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Unsuitable men. One of them was staring daggers at me all morning.’
‘Oh God, Derek Linford.’ She was thoughtful. ‘Didn’t he look awful?’
‘Doesn’t he always?’ Rebus placed a tea-bag in each mug. ‘So, are you here to check up on me or thank me for sticking my neck out?’
‘I’m not about to thank you for that. You could have stayed quiet, and you know it. If you owned up, it was because you wanted to.’ She broke off.
‘And?’ he encouraged her.
‘And you’ll have some agenda going.’
‘Actually I don’t... not particularly.’
‘Then why did you do it?’
‘It was the quickest way, the simplest. If I’d bothered to think for a moment... maybe I’d have kept my mouth shut.’ He poured water and milk into the mugs, handed one over. Siobhan looked at the tea-bag floating there. ‘Spoon it out when it’s strong enough,’ he suggested.
‘Yummy.’
‘Sure I can’t tempt you with a ham roll?’
She shook her head. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’
‘Maybe later,’ he said, leading them through to the living room. ‘Everything calm at base camp?’
‘Say what you like about Carswell, he’s a pretty good motivator. Everyone thinks it was that speech of his that made you feel guilty.’
‘And they’re now working harder than ever?’ He waited till she’d nodded. ‘A team of happy gardeners with no nasty moles to bother them.’
Siobhan grinned. ‘It was pretty bloody corny, wasn’t it?’ She looked around. ‘Where are you going to go when you sell this place?’
‘Got a spare room, have you?’
‘Depends for how long.’
‘I’m just joking, Siobhan. I’ll be fine.’ He took a gulp of tea. ‘So what exactly does bring you here?’
‘You mean apart from checking up on you?’
‘I’m guessing that wasn’t all.’
She reached down to place her mug on the floor. ‘I got another message.’
‘Quizmaster?’ She nodded. ‘Saying what exactly?’
She unfolded some sheets from her pocket, reached over towards him with them. Their fingers touched as he took them. The first was an e-mail from Siobhan:
Still awaiting Stricture.
‘I sent that first thing this morning,’ she said. ‘Thought maybe he wouldn’t have heard.’
Rebus turned to the second sheet. It was from Quizmaster.
I’m disappointed in you, Siobhan. I’m taking my ball home now.
Then Siobhan:
Don’t believe everything you read. I still want to play.
Quizmaster:
And go yapping to your bosses?
Siobhan:
You and me this time, that’s a promise.
Quizmaster:
How can I trust you?
Siobhan:
I’ve been trusting you, haven’t I? And you always know where to find me. I still don’t have the first clue about you.
‘I had to wait a while after that. The final sheet came in about’ — she checked her watch — ‘forty minutes ago.’
‘And you came straight here?’
She shrugged. ‘More or less.’
‘You didn’t show it to Brains?’
‘He’s off on some errand for Crime Squad.’
‘Anyone else?’ She shook her head. ‘Why me?’
‘Now that I’m here,’ she said, ‘I don’t really know.’
‘Grant’s the one with the puzzle mind.’
‘Right now he’s too busy puzzling over how to keep his job.’
Rebus nodded slowly and re-read the final sheet:
Add Camus to ME Smith, they’re boxing where the sun don’t shine, and Frank Finlay’s the referee.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘you’ve shown me it...’ He made to hand the sheets back. ‘And it doesn’t mean a thing to me.’
‘No?’
He shook his head. ‘Frank Finlay was an actor — might still be, for all I know. I think he played Casanova on TV, and he was in something called Barbed Wire and Bouquets... something like that.’
‘Bouquet of Barbed Wire?’
‘Could have been.’ He glanced at the clue a final time. ‘Camus was a French writer. I used to think it was pronounced “came as” until I heard it mentioned on the radio or the box.’
‘Boxing — that’s something you know about.’
‘Marciano, Dempsey, Cassius Clay before he became Ali...’ He shrugged.
‘Where the sun don’t shine,’ Siobhan said. ‘That’s an American expression, isn’t it?’
‘It means out your arse,’ Rebus confirmed. ‘You think suddenly Quizmaster’s American?’
She smiled, but there was no humour to it.
‘Take my advice, Siobhan. Give it to Crime Squad or Special Branch or whoever’s supposed to be tracking this arsehole down. Or just e-mail him back telling him to get stuffed.’ He paused. ‘You said he knows where to find you?’
She nodded. ‘He knows my name, that I’m CID in Edinburgh.’
‘But nothing about where you live? He hasn’t got your phone number?’ She shook her head and Rebus nodded, satisfied. He was thinking of all the numbers pinned to Steve Holly’s office wall.
‘Then let him go,’ he said quietly.
‘Is that what you’d do?’