between tunnel and driveway sat the heart of the place, with its roll-call of Edinburgh 's past. Names like Ovenstone, Cleugh, and Flockhart, and professions such as actuary, silk merchant, ironmonger. There were people who'd died in India, and some who'd died in infancy. A sign at the gate informed visitors that the place had been the subject of a compulsory purchase by the City of Edinburgh, because previous private owners had let it fall into neglect. But that same neglect was at least part of its charm. People walked their dogs here, or came to practise photography, or just mused among the tombstones. Gays came looking for company, others for solitude.
After dark, of course, the place had another reputation entirely. A Leith prostitute – a woman Rebus had known and liked – had been found murdered here earlier in the year. Rebus wondered if Joseph Lintz knew about that…
`Mr Lintz?’
He was trimming the grass around a headstone, doing so with a half-sized pair of garden shears. There was a sheen of sweat on his face as he forced himself upright.
`Ah, Inspector Rebus. You have brought a colleague?’
`This is D I Abernethy.’
Abernethy was examining the headstone, which belonged to a teacher called Cosmo Merriman.
`They let you do this?’ he asked, his eyes finally finding Lintz's. `No one has tried to stop me.’
`Inspector Rebus tells me you plant flowers, too.’
`People assume I am a relative.’
`But you're not, are you?’
`Only in so far as we are the family of man, Inspector Abernethy.’
`You're a Christian then?’
`Yes, I am.’
`Born and bred?’
Lintz took out a handkerchief and wiped his nose. `You're wondering if a Christian could commit an atrocity like Villefranche. It's perhaps not in my interest to say this, but I think it entirely possible. I've been explaining this to Inspector Rebus.’
Rebus nodded. `We've had a couple of talks.’
`Religious belief is no defence, you see. Look at Bosnia, plenty of Catholics involved in the fighting, plenty of good Muslims, too. 'Good' in that they are believers. And what they believe is that their faith gives them the right to kill.’
Bosnia: Rebus saw a sharp image of Candice escaping the terror, only to end up more terrified still, and more trapped than ever.
Lintz was stuffing the large white handkerchief into the pocket of his baggy brown cord trousers. In the outfit – green rubber overshoes, green woollen jersey, tweed jacket – he did look like a gardener. Little wonder he attracted so little attention in the cemetery. He blended in. Rebus wondered how artful it was, how deeply he'd learned the skill of invisibility. – `You look impatient, Inspector Abernethy. You're not a man for theories, am I right?’
`I wouldn't know about that, sir.’
`In that case, you must not know very much. Now Inspector Rebus, he listens to what I have to say. More than that, he looks interested. Whether he is or not, I can't judge, but his performance if performance it be – is exemplary.’
Lintz always spoke like this, like he'd been rehearsing each line. `Last time he visited my home, we discussed human duality. Would you have any opinion on that, Inspector Abernethy?’
The look on Abernethy's face was cold. `No, sir.’
Lintz shrugged: case against the Londoner proven. `Atrocities, Inspector, occur by an effort of the collective will.’
Spelling it out; sounding like the lecturer he had once been. `Because sometimes all it takes to turn us into devils is the fear of being an outsider.’
Abernethy sniffed, hands in pockets. `Sounds like you're justifying war crimes, sir. Sounds to me like you might even have been there yourself.’
`Do I need to be a spaceman to imagine Mars?’
He turned to Rebus, gave him the fraction of a smile.
`Well, maybe I'm just a bit too simple, sir,' Abernethy said. `I'm also a bit parky. Let's walk back to the car and carry on our discussion there, all right?’
While Lintz packed his few small tools into a canvas bag, Rebus looked around, saw movement in the distance, between headstones. The crouched figure of a man. Split-second glimpse of a face he recognised.
`What is it?’
Abernethy asked.
Rebus shook his head. `Nothing.’
The three men walked in silence back to the Saab. Rebus opened the back door for Lintz. To his surprise, Abernethy got into the back, too. Rebus took the driver's seat, felt warmth returning slowly to his toes. Abernethy had his arm along the back of the seat, his body twisted towards Lintz.
`Now, Herr Lintz, my role in all this is quite straightforward. I'm collating all the information on this latest outbreak of alleged old Nazis. You understand that with allegations such as these, very serious allegations, we have a duty to investigate?’
`Spurious allegations rather than 'serious' ones.’
`In which case you've nothing to worry about.’
`Except my reputation.’
`When you're exonerated, we'll take care of that.’
Rebus was listening closely. None of this sounded like Abernethy. The hostile graveside tone had been replaced by something much more ambiguous.
`And meantime?’
Lintz seemed to be picking up whatever the Londoner was saying between the lines. Rebus felt deliberately excluded from the conversation, which was why Abernethy had got into the back seat in the first place. He'd placed a physical barrier between himself and the officer investigating Joseph Lintz. There was something going on.
`Meantime,' Abernethy said, `cooperate as fully as you can with my colleague. The sooner he's able to reach his conclusions, the sooner this will all be over.’
`The problem with conclusions is that they should be conclusive, and I have so little proof. This was wartime, Inspector Abernethy, a lot of records destroyed…’
`Without proof either way, there's no case to answer.’
Lintz was nodding. `I see,' he said.
Abernethy hadn't voiced anything Rebus himself didn't feel; the problem was, he'd voiced it to the suspect.
`It would help if your memory improved,' Rebus felt obliged to add.
`Well, Mr Lintz,' Abernethy was saying, `thanks for your time.’
His hand was on the elderly man's shoulder: protective, comforting. `Can we drop you somewhere?’
`I'll stay here a little longer,' Lintz said, opening the door and easing himself out. Abernethy handed the bag of tools to him.
`Take care now,' he said.
Lintz nodded, gave a small bow to Rebus, and shuffled back towards the gate. Abernethy climbed into the passenger seat.
`Rum little bugger, isn't he?’
`You as good as told him he was off the hook.’
'Bollocks,' Abernethy said. `I told him where he stands, let him know the score. That's all.’
He saw the look on Rebus's face. `Come on, do you really want to see him in court? An old professor who keeps cemeteries tidy?’
`It doesn't make it any easier if you sound like you're on his side.’
`Even supposing he did order that massacre – you think a trial and a couple of years in clink till he snuffs it is the answer? Better to just give them all a bloody good scare, stuff the trial, and save the taxpayer millions.’
`That's not our job,' Rebus said, starting the engine.
