'Look, Inspector…' Steele glanced at his wristwatch. 'Was it anything important? Only I'm meeting a customer and I've already overslept.'
'Nothing too important, sir,' Rebus said breezily. 'It's just that we've found out your alibi for the Wednesday Mrs Jack died is a pack of lies. Wondered if you'd anything to say to that?'
Steele's face, already long, grew longer. 'Oh.' He looked down at the toes of his well-scuffed shoes. 'I thought it was bound to come out.' He tried a smile. 'Not much you can keep hidden from a murder inquiry, eh?'
'Not much you should keep hidden, sir.'
'Do you want me to come down to the station?'
'Maybe later, sir. Just so we can get everything on record. But for the moment your living room would do.'
'Right.' Steele started to walk slowly back towards the bungalow.
'Nice area this,' commented Rebus.
'What? Oh, yes, yes it is.'
'Lived here long?' Rebus wasn't interested in Steele's answers. His only interest was in keeping the man talking. The more he talked, the less time he had in which to think, and the less time he had to think, the better the chances of him coming out with the truth.
'Three years. Before that I had a flat in the Grassmarket.'
'They used to hang people down there, did you know that?'
'Did they? Hard to imagine it these days.'
'Oh, I don't know…'
They were indoors now. Steele pointed to the hall phone. 'Do you mind if I call the customer? Make my apologies?'
'Whatever you like, sir. I'll wait in the living room, if that's all right.'
'Through there.'
'Fine.'
Rebus went into the room but left the door wide open. He heard Steele dialling. It was an old bakelite telephone, the kind with a little drawer in the bottom containing a notepad. People used to want rid of them; now they wanted them back, and were willing to pay. The conversation was short and innocent. An apology and a rescheduling of the meeting. Rebus opened his morning paper wide in front of him and made show of reading the inside pages. The receiver clattered back into its cradle.
'That's that,' said Steele, entering the room. Rebus read on for a moment, then lowered the paper and began to fold it.
'Good,' he said. Steele, as he had hoped, was staring at the paper.
'What's that about Gregor?' he said.
'Hm? Oh, you mean you haven't seen it yet?' Rebus handed over the paper. Steele, still standing, devoured the story. 'What do you reckon, sir?'
He shrugged. 'Christ knows. I suppose it makes sense. I mean, none of us could think what Gregor was doing in a place like that. I can't think of a much better reason. The photos certainly look similar… I don't remember Gail at all. Well, I mean, she was always around, but I never paid much attention. She never mixed with us.' He folded the paper. 'So Gregor's off the hook then?'
Rebus shrugged. Steele made to hand the paper back. 'No, no, you can keep it if you like. Now, Mr Steele, about this non-existent golfing fixture…'
Steele sat down. It was a pleasant, book-lined room. In fact, it reminded Rebus strongly of another room, a room he'd been in recently…,
'Gregor would do anything for his friends,' Steele said candidly, 'including the odd telling of a lie. We made up the golf game. Well, that's not strictly true. At first, there was a weekly game. But then I started seeing a… a lady. On Wednesdays. I explained it to Gregor. He didn't see why we shouldn't just go on telling everyone we were playing golf.' He looked up at Rebus for the first time. 'A jealous husband is involved, Inspector, and an alibi was always welcome.'
Rebus nodded. 'You're being very honest, Mr Steele.'
Steele shrugged. 'I don't want Gregor getting into trouble because of me.'
'And you were with this woman on the Wednesday afternoon in question? The afternoon Mrs Jack died?'
Steele nodded solemnly.
'And will she back you up?'
Steele smiled grimly. 'Not a hope in hell.'
'The husband again?'
The husband,' Steele acknowledged.
'But he's bound to find out sooner or later, isn't he?' Rebus said. 'So many people seem to know already about you and Mrs Kinnoul.'
Steele twitched, as though a small electric shock had been administered to his shoulder blades. He stared down at the floor, willing it to become a pit he might jump into. Then he sat back.
'How did you…?'
'A guess, Mr Steele.'
'A bloody inspired guess. But you say other people…?'
'Other people are guessing too. You persuaded Mrs Kinnoul to take up an interest in rare books. It makes a good cover, after all, doesn't it? I mean, if you're ever found there with her. I even notice that she's modelled her library on your own room here.'
'It's not what you think, Inspector.'
'I don't think anything, sir.'
'Cathy just needs someone to listen to her. Rab never has time. The only time he has is for himself. Gowk was the cleverest of the lot of us.'
'Yes, so Mr Pond was telling me.'
'Tom? He's back from the States then?'
Rebus nodded. 'I was with him just this morning… at his cottage.'
Rebus waited for a reaction, but Steele's mind was still fixed on Cath Kinnoul. 'It breaks my heart to see her… to see what she's…'
'She's a friend,' Rebus stated.
'Yes, she is.'
'Well then, she's sure to back up your story; a friend in need and all that…?'
Steele was shaking his head. 'You don't understand, Inspector. Rab Kinnoul is… he can be… a violent man. Mental violence and physical violence. He terrifies her.'
Rebus sighed. 'Then we've only your own word for your whereabouts?'
Steele shrugged. He looked as though he might cry – tears of frustration rather than anything else. He took a deep breath. 'You think I killed Liz?'
'Did you?'
Steele shook his head. 'No.'
'Well then, you've nothing to worry about, have you, sir?'
Steele managed that grim smile again. 'Not a worry in the world,' he said.
Rebus rose to his feet. 'That's the spirit, Mr Steele.' But Ronald Steele looked like there was just about enough spirit left in him to fill a teaspoon. 'All the same, you're not making it easy for yourself…'
'Have you spoken to Gregor?' Steele asked.
Rebus nodded.
'Does he know about Cathy and me?'
'I couldn't say.' They were both heading for the front door now. 'Would it make any difference if he did?'
'Christ knows. No, maybe not.'
The day was turning sunny. Rebus waited while Steele closed and double locked the door.
'Just one more thing…?'
'Yes, Inspector?'
'Would you mind if I took a look in the boot of your car?'
'What?' Steele stared at Rebus, but saw that the policeman was not about to explain. He sighed. 'Why not?' he
