message in itself. He went home for his car, drove down to Haymarket and along to Shandon. As usual, parking near Sammy's flat was a problem. Everyone was home from work and tucked in front of their televisions. He climbed the stone steps, wondering how treacherous they'd get when the frosts came, and rang the bell. Sammy herself led him into the living room, where Candice was watching a game show.
`Hello, John,' she said. `Are you my wonderwall?’
`I'm nobody's wonderwall, Candice.’
He turned to Sammy. `Everything all right?’
`Just fine.’
At that moment, Ned Farlowe walked in from the kitchen. He was eating soup from a bowl, dunking a folded slice of brown bread into it.
`Mind if I have a word?’ Rebus said.
Farlowe shook his head, then jerked it in the direction of the kitchen.
`Can I eat while we talk? I'm starving.’
He sat down at the foldaway table, got another slice of bread from the packet and spread margarine on it. Sammy put her head round the doorway, saw the look on her father's face, and made a tactical retreat. The kitchen was about seven foot square and too full of pots and appliances. Swinging a cat, you could have done a lot of damage.
`I saw you today,' Rebus said, `skulking in Warriston Cemetery. Coincidence?’
`What do you think?’
`I'm asking you.’
Rebus leaned his back against the sink unit, folded his arms.
'I'm watching Lintz.’
'Why?’
`Because I'm being paid to.’
`By a newspaper?’
'Lintz's lawyer has interim interdicts flying around. Nobody can afford to be seen near him.’
`But they still want him watched?’
`If there's a court case coming, they want to know as much as possible, stands to reason.’
By court case, Farlowe didn't mean any trial of Lintz, but rather of the newspapers themselves, for libel.
`If he catches you…’
`He doesn't know me from Adam. Besides, there'd always be somebody to take my place. Now do I get to ask a question?’
`Let me say something first. You know I'm investigating Lintz?’
Farlowe nodded. `That means we're too close. If you find out anything, people might think it came from me.’
`I haven't told Sammy what I'm doing, specifically so there's no conflict of interests.’
`I'm just saying others might not believe it.’
`A few more days, I'll have enough money to fund the book for another month.’
Farlowe had finished his soup. He carried the empty bowl over to the sink, stood next to Rebus.
`I don't want this to be a problem, but the bottom line is: what can you do about it?’
Rebus stared at him. His instinct was to stuff Farlowe's head into the sink, but how would that look with Sammy? `Now,' Farlowe said, `do I get to ask my question?’
`What is it?’
`Who's Candice?’
`A friend of mine.’
`So what's wrong with your flat?’
Rebus realised he was no longer dealing with his daughter's boyfriend. He was confronted with a journalist, someone with a nose for a story.
`Tell you what,' said Rebus, `say I didn't see you in the cemetery. Say we didn't just have this little chat.’
`And I don't ask about Candice?’
Rebus stayed quiet. Farlowe considered the deal. `Say I get to ask you a few questions for my book.’
`What sort of questions?’
`About Cafferty.’
Rebus shook his head. `I could talk about Tommy Telford though.’
`When?’
`When we've got him behind bars.’
Farlowe smiled. `I could be on the pension by then.’
He waited, saw Rebus was going to give him nothing.
`She's only here till tomorrow anyway,' Rebus said.
`Where's she off to?’
Rebus just winked. Left the kitchen, returned to the living-room. Talked to Sammy while Candice's game show reached its climax. Whenever she heard audience laughter, she joined in. Rebus made arrangements for the following day, then left. There was no sign of Farlowe. He'd either hidden himself in the bedroom or else gone back out. It took Rebus a few moments to remember where he'd parked his car. He drove home carefully; stopped for all the lights. The parking spaces were all taken in Arden Street. He left the Saab on a yellow line. As he approached his tenement door, he heard a car door open and spun towards the sound.
It was Claverhouse. He was on his own. `Mind if I come in?’
Rebus thought of a dozen reasons for saying yes. But he shrugged and made for the door. `Any news of the stabbing at Megan's?’ he asked.
`How did you know we'd be interested?’
`A bouncer gets stabbed, the attacker flees on a waiting motorbike. It was premeditated. And the majority of the bouncers work for Tommy Telford.’
They were climbing the stairs. Rebus's flat was on the second floor.
`Well, you're right,' Claverhouse said. `Billy Tennant worked for Telford. He controlled the traffic in and out of Megan's.’
`Traffic as in dope?’
`The footballer's friend, the one who got wounded, he's a known dealer. Works out of Paisley.’
`Therefore connected to Telford, too.’
`We're speculating he was the target, Tennant just got in the way.’
`Leaving only one question: who was behind it?’
`Come on, John. It was Cafferty, obviously.’
`Not Cafferty's style,' Rebus said, unlocking his door.
`Maybe he's learned a thing or two from the Young Pretender.’
`Make yourself at home,' Rebus said, walking down the hall. The breakfast things were still on the dining table. Siobhan's bag of goodies was down the side of a chair.
`A guest.’
Claverhouse had noticed the two mugs, two plates. He looked around. `She's not here now though?’
`She wasn't here for breakfast either.’
`Because she's at your daughter's.’
Rebus froze.
`I went to settle up with the hotel. They said a police car had come and taken all her things away. So then I asked around, and the driver gave me Samantha's address as the drop-off.’
Claverhouse sat down on the sofa, crossed one leg over the other. `So what's the game, John, and how come you've seen fit to leave me on the bench?’
He sounded calm now, but Rebus could tell there'd been a storm.
`Do you want a drink?’
`I want an answer.’
`When she walked out… she waited beside my car. I couldn't think where to take her, so I brought her here. But she recognised the street. Telford had been watching my flat.’
