Claire Benzie’s stepfather turned out to be Jack McCoist, one of the city’s more able defence solicitors. He asked for ten minutes alone with her before any interview could begin. Afterwards, Siobhan entered the room again, accompanied by Gill Templer who, much to his visible annoyance, had ousted Eric Bain.
Claire’s drink can was empty. McCoist had half a cup of lukewarm tea in front of him.
‘I don’t think we need a recording made,’ McCoist stated. ‘Let’s just talk this through, see where it takes us. Agreed?’
He looked to Gill Templer, who nodded eventually.
‘When you’re ready, DC Clarke,’ Templer said.
Siobhan tried for eye contact with Claire, but she was too busy with the Pepsi can, rolling it between her palms.
‘Claire,’ she said, ‘these clues Flip was getting, one of them came from an e-mail address which we’ve traced back to you.’
McCoist had an A4 pad out, on which he’d already written several pages of notes in handwriting so bad it was like a personal code. Now he turned to a fresh sheet.
‘Can I just ask how you came into possession of these e-mails?’
‘They... we didn’t really. Someone called Quizmaster sent Flip Balfour a message, and it came to me instead.’
‘How so?’ McCoist hadn’t looked up from his pad. All she could see of him were blue pinstriped shoulders and the top of his head, thinning black hair showing plenty of scalp.
‘Well, I was checking Ms Balfour’s computer for anything that might explain her disappearance.’
‘So this was after she’d disappeared?’ He looked up now: thick black rims to his glasses and a mouth which, when not open, was a thin line of doubt.
‘Yes,’ Siobhan admitted.
‘And this is the message you say you’ve traced back to my client’s computer?’
‘To her ISP account, yes.’ Siobhan was noticing that Claire had looked up for the first time: it was that use of “my client”. Claire was looking at her stepfather, studying him. Probably she’d never seen his professional side before.
‘ISP being the Internet service provider?’
Siobhan nodded her answer. McCoist was letting her know that he was up on the jargon.
‘Have there been subsequent messages?’
‘Yes.’
‘And do they belong to the same address?’
‘We don’t know that yet.’ Siobhan had decided he didn’t need to know more than one ISP was involved.
‘Very well.’ McCoist stabbed a full stop on the latest sheet with his pen, then sat back thoughtfully.
‘Do I get to ask Claire a question now?’ Siobhan asked.
McCoist peered at her over the top of his glasses. ‘My client would prefer to make a short statement first.’
Claire reached into the pocket of her jeans and unfolded a sheet of paper which had obviously come from the pad on the table. The writing was different from McCoist’s scrawl, but Siobhan could see scorings-out where the lawyer had suggested changes.
Claire cleared her throat. ‘About a fortnight before Flip went missing, I loaned her my laptop computer. She had some essay she was writing, and I thought it might help her. I knew she didn’t have a laptop of her own. I never got the chance to ask for it back. I was waiting until after the funeral to ask her family if it could be retrieved from her flat.’
‘Is this laptop your only computer?’ Siobhan interrupted.
Claire shook her head. ‘No, but it’s linked to an ISP, same account as my PC.’
Siobhan stared at her; still she didn’t make eye contact. ‘There was no laptop in Philippa Balfour’s flat,’ she said.
Eye contact at last. ‘Then where is it?’ Claire said.
‘I’m assuming you still have the proof of purchase, something like that?’
McCoist spoke up. ‘Are you accusing my daughter of lying?’ She wasn’t just a client any longer...
‘I’m saying maybe it’s something Claire should have told us a bit earlier.’
‘I didn’t know it was...’ Claire began to say.
‘DCS Templer,’ McCoist began haughtily, ‘I didn’t think it was Lothian and Borders Police policy to accuse potential witnesses of duplicity.’
‘Right now,’ Templer shot back, ‘your stepdaughter’s a suspect rather than a witness.’
‘Suspected of what exactly? Running a quiz? Since when was that an offence?’
Gill didn’t have an answer for that. She glanced in Siobhan’s direction, and Siobhan thought she could read at least a few of her boss’s thoughts. He’s right... we still don’t know for sure that Quizmaster has anything to do with anything... this is your hunch I’m going with, just remember that...
McCoist knew the look between the two detectives meant something. He decided to press his point.
‘I can’t see you presenting any of this to the Procurator Fiscal. You’d be laughed back down the ranks... DCS Templer.’ Putting the stress on those three letters. He knew she was newly promoted; knew she’d yet to prove herself...
Gill had already regained her composure. ‘What we need from Claire, Mr McCoist, are some straight answers, otherwise her story’s looking thin and we’ll need to make further inquiries.’
McCoist seemed to consider this. Siobhan, meantime, was busy making a mental list. Claire Benzie had the motive all right — the role of Balfour’s Bank in her father’s suicide. With the role-playing game, she had the means, and luring Flip to Arthur’s Seat would give the opportunity. Now she suddenly invented a loaned laptop, conveniently missing... Siobhan started another list, this time for Ranald Marr, who’d warned Flip early on about how to delete e-mails. Ranald Marr with his toy soldiers, second-in-command at the bank. She still didn’t see what Marr would have gained from Flip’s death...
‘Claire,’ she said quietly, ‘those times you went to Junipers, did you ever meet Ranald Marr?’
‘I don’t see what that’s—’
But Claire interrupted her stepfather. ‘Ranald Marr, yes. I never really knew what she saw in him.’
‘Who?’
‘Flip. She had this crush on Ranald. Schoolgirl stuff, I suppose...’
‘Was it reciprocated? Did it go further than a crush?’
‘I think,’ McCoist said, ‘we’re straying somewhat from the—’
But Claire was smiling at Siobhan. ‘Not until later,’ she was saying.
‘How much later?’
‘I got the feeling she was seeing him pretty much up till she went missing...’
‘What’s all the excitement?’ Rebus asked.
Bain looked up from the desk he was working at. ‘Brought in Claire Benzie for questioning.’
‘Why?’ Rebus leaned down, reached into one of the desk’s drawers.
‘Sorry,’ Bain said, ‘is this your...?’
He was making to get up, but Rebus stopped him. ‘I’m suspended, remember? Just you keep it warm for me.’ He closed the drawer, not having found anything. ‘So what’s Benzie doing here?’
‘One of the e-mails, I got Special Branch to trace it.’
Rebus whistled. ‘Claire Benzie sent it?’
‘Well, it was sent from her account.’
Rebus considered this. ‘Not quite the same thing?’
‘Siobhan’s the sceptical one.’
‘Is she in with Benzie?’ Rebus waited till Bain nodded. ‘But you’re out here?’
‘DCS Templer.’
‘Ah,’ Rebus said, no further explanation needed.
Gill Templer burst into the CID office. ‘I want Ranald Marr brought in for questioning. Who wants to fetch him?’
She got two volunteers straight away — Hi-Ho Silvers and Tommy Fleming. Others were trying to place the name, wondering what it could have to do with Claire Benzie and Quizmaster. When Gill turned round, Siobhan was standing behind her.