The hospital was quiet. When he pushed open the door to Sammy's room, he saw that another bed had been added, a middle-aged woman sleeping in it. Her hands lay on the bedcovers, a white identity tag around one wrist. She was hooked up to a machine, and her head was bandaged.
Two women were sitting by Sammy's bed. Rhona, and Patience Aitken. Rebus hadn't seen Patience in a while. The women were sitting close together. Their whispered conversation stopped as he came in. He lifted a chair and placed it beside Patience's. She leaned over and squeezed his hand.
`Hello, John.’
He smiled at her, spoke to Rhona. `How is she?’
`The specialist says those last tests were very positive.’
`What does that mean?’
`It means there's brain activity. She's not in deep coma.’
`Is that his version?’
`He thinks she'll come out of it, John.’
Her eyes were bloodshot. He noticed a handkerchief gripped in one hand.
`That's good,' he said. `Which doctor was it?’
`Dr Stafford. He's just back from holiday.’
`I can't keep track of them all.’
Rebus rubbed his forehead.
`Look,' Patience said, checking her watch, `I really should be going. I'm sure the two of you…’
`Stay as long as you like,' Rebus told her.
`I'm already late for an appointment, actually.’
She got to her feet. `Nice to meet you, Rhona.’
`Thanks, Patience.’
The two women shook hands a little awkwardly, then Rhona got up and they hugged, and the awkwardness vanished. `Thanks for coming.’
Patience turned to Rebus. She looked radiant, he decided. Light really seemed to emanate from her skin. She was wearing her usual perfume, and had had her hair restyled.
`Thanks for looking in,' he said.
`She's going to be fine, John.’
She took his hands in hers, leaned towards him. A peck on the cheek, a kiss between friends. Rebus saw Rhona watching them.
`John,' she said, `see Patience out, will you?’
`No, that's all -'
`Of course, yes,' Rebus said.
They left the room together. Walked the first few steps in silence. Patience spoke first.
`She's great, isn't she?’
'Rhona?’
`Yes.’
Rebus was thoughtful. `She's terrific. Have you met her paramour?’
`He's gone back to London. I've… I asked Rhona if she wanted to come stay with me. Hotels can be…’
Rebus smiled tiredly. `Good idea. Then all you'd have to do is invite my brother over and you'd have the whole set.’
Her face cracked into an embarrassed grin. `I suppose it must look a bit like I'm collecting you all.’
`The perfect hand of Unhappy Families.’
She turned to him. They were at the main doors of the hospital. She touched his shoulder. `John, I'm really sorry about Sammy. Anything I can do, you've only got to ask.’
`Thanks, Patience.’
`But asking for things has never been your strong point, has it? You just sit in silence and hope they come to you.’
She sighed. `I can't believe I'm saying this, but I miss you. I think that's why I took in Sammy. If I couldn't be close to you, at least I could be close to someone who was. Does that make any sense? Is this where you say something about not deserving me?’
`You've seen the script.’
He pulled back a little from her, just so he could look at her face. `I miss you, too.’
All the nights slumped at the bar, or in his chair at home, the long midnight drives so he could keep his restlessness alive. He'd have the TV and the hi-fi on at the same time, and the flat would still feel empty. Books he tried reading, finding he was ten pages in and couldn't remember anything. Gazing from his window at the darkened flats across the street, imagining lives at rest.
All because he didn't have her.
They embraced in silence for a while. `You're going to be late,' he said.
`God, John, what are we going to do?’
`See one another?’
`That sounds like a start.’
`Tonight? Mario's at eight?’
She nodded and they kissed again. He squeezed her hand. Her head was turned to look at him as she pushed open the doors.
Emerson, Lake and Palmer: `Still… You Turn Me On.’
Rebus felt a little giddy as he walked back to Sammy's room. Only it wasn't any more, wasn't 'Sammy's room'. Now there was another patient there. They'd said there was always that possibility shortage of space, cutbacks. The woman was still asleep or unconscious, breathing noisily. Rebus ignored her and sat where Patience had been sitting.
`I've got a message for you,' Rhona said. `From Dr Morrison.’
`Who's he when he's at home?’
`I've no idea. All he said was, could he have his t-shirt back?’
The ghoul with the scythe… Rebus picked up Pa Broon, turned the bear in his hands. They sat in silence for a while, until Rhona shifted in her chair.
`Patience is really nice.’
`Did the two of you have a good chat?’
She nodded. `And you told her what a perfect husband I'd been?’
`You must be crazy, walking out on her.’
`Sanity's never exactly been my strong point.’
`But you used to know a good thing when you saw it.’
`Trouble is, that's never what I see when I look in the mirror.’
`What do you see?’
He looked at her. `Sometimes I don't see anything at all.’
Later, they took a coffee-break, went to the machine.
`I lost her, you know,' Rhona said.
`What?’
'Sammy, I lost her. She came back here. She came back to you.’
`We hardly see one another, Rhona.’
`But she's here. Don't you get it? It's you she wants, not me.’
She turned away from him, fumbled for her handkerchief. He stood close behind her, then couldn't think of anything to say. He was all out of words; every line of sympathy rang hollow to him, just another cliche. He touched the back of her neck, rubbed it. She lowered her head a little, didn't resist. Massage: there'd been a lot of massage early on in their relationship. By the end, he hadn't even given her time for a handshake.
`I don't know why she came back, Rhona,' he said at last. `But I don't think she was running away, and I don't think it had much to do with seeing me.’
A couple of nurses ran past, urgency in their movements.
`I'd better get back,' Rhona said, rubbing a hand over her face, pulling it into something resembling composure.
Rebus went with her to the room, then said he had to be going. He bent down to kiss Sammy, feeling the breath from her nostrils against his cheek.
`Wake up, Sammy,' he cajoled. `You can't stay in bed all your life. Time to get up.’
When there was no movement, no response, he turned and left the room.
17
David Levy was no longer in Edinburgh. At least, he wasn't at the Roxburghe Hotel. Rebus could think of only one way of contacting him. Seated at his desk, he called the Holocaust Investigation Bureau in Tel Aviv and asked to speak with Solomon Mayerlink. Mayerlink wasn't available, but Rebus identified himself and said he needed to contact him as a matter of urgency. He got a home telephone number.
`Is there news on Linzstek, Inspector?’
Mayerlink's voice was a harsh rasp.
`Of a kind, yes. He's dead.’
Silence on the line, then a slow release of breath. `That's a pity.’
`It 1s?’
`People die, a little bit of history dies with them. We would have preferred to see him in court, Inspector. Dead, he's worthless.’ Mayerlink paused. `I take it this ends your inquiry?’
`It changes the nature of the investigation. He was murdered.’
Static on the line; an eight-beat pause. `How did it happen?’
`He was hung from a tree.’
There was a longer silence on the line. `I see,' Mayerlink said at last. There was a slight echo on his voice. `You think the allegations led to his murder?’