“Gaelic.”
“Your accent’s not…”
“My accent’s not what I’m here to talk about.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Why didn’t you come forward?” she asked. He seemed not to understand. “After the shooting, some of Mr. Herdman’s friends called to talk to us.”
“Did they? What for?”
“All kinds of reasons.”
He considered his answer. “I didn’t see the point, Siobhan.”
“Let’s save first names for later, eh?” Brimson tilted his head in apology. There was a sudden burst of static, then transistorized voices.
“The tower,” he explained, reaching down behind his desk to tweak the volume on the radio set. “That’s Charlie requesting a slot.” He glanced at his watch. “Should be okay this time of day.”
Siobhan listened to a voice warning the pilot to watch out for a helicopter over the city center.
“Roger, control.”
Brimson turned the volume lower still.
“I’d like to bring a colleague out here to talk to you,” Siobhan said. “Would that be all right?”
Brimson shrugged. “You can see how hectic life is around here. Only really busy on weekends.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not busy on weekends? Good-looking young woman like you?”
“I meant…”
He laughed again. “I’m only teasing. No wedding ring, though.” He nodded towards her left hand. “Do you think I’d make the grade in CID?”
“I notice you don’t wear a ring either.”
“Eligible bachelor, that’s me. Friends say it’s because I’ve got my head in the clouds.” He pointed upwards. “Not too many singles bars up there.”
Siobhan smiled, then realized that she was enjoying the conversation-always a bad sign. There were questions she knew she should be asking, but they weren’t coming into focus.
“Maybe tomorrow, then,” she said, getting up from the chair.
“Your first flying lesson?”
She shook her head. “Talking to my colleague.”
“But you’ll come, too?”
“If I can.”
He seemed satisfied, came around the desk, hand outstretched. “Good to meet you, Siobhan.”
“Good to meet you, Mr…” She faltered as he raised a warning finger. “Doug,” she relented.
“I’ll see you out.”
“I can manage.” Opening the door, wanting a little more space between them than he was allowing.
“Really? You’re good at picking locks, then, are you?”
She remembered the padlocked gate. “Right enough,” she said, following Doug Brimson outside just as Charlie’s machine came to the end of its run-up and lifted its wheels clear of the ground.
“Has Gill tracked you down yet?” Siobhan asked, speaking into her phone as she drove back into the city.
“Affirmative,” Rebus replied. “Not that I was hiding or anything.”
“So what’s the outcome?”
“Suspended from duty. Except that Bobby doesn’t see it that way. He still wants me helping out.”
“Which means you still need me, right?”
“I think I could just about drive myself if I had to.”
“But you don’t have to…”
He laughed. “I’m just teasing, Siobhan. The gig’s yours if you want it.”
“Good, because I’ve tracked down Brimson.”
“I’m impressed. Who is he?”
“Runs a flying school out at Turnhouse.” She paused. “I went to see him. I know I should have checked first, but your phone was engaged.”
“She’s been out to see Brimson,” she heard Rebus tell Hogan. Hogan muttered something back. “Bobby’s of the opinion,” Rebus told her, “that you should have sought permission before doing that.”
“Are those his exact words?”
“Actually, he rolled his eyes and uttered a few oaths. I’m choosing to extrapolate.”
“Thanks for saving my maidenly blushes.”
“So what did you get out of him?”
“He was friends with Herdman. They share similar backgrounds: army and RAF.”
“And how does he know Robert Niles?”
Siobhan’s mouth twitched. “I forgot to ask him that. I did say we’d go back.”
“Sounds like we’ll have to. Did he offer anything at all?”
“Says he didn’t know Herdman kept guns and doesn’t know why he went to the school. What about Niles?”
“Sod all use to us.”
“So where do we go from here?”
“Let’s rendezvous at Port Edgar. We need to have a proper talk with Miss Teri.” There was silence on the line, and Siobhan thought she’d lost him, but then he asked: “Any more messages from our friend?”
Meaning the notes, keeping it vague in front of Hogan.
“There was another one waiting for me this morning.”
“Yes?”
“Much the same as the first.”
“Sent it to Howdenhall?”
“Didn’t see the point.”
“Good. I’ll want a look at it when we meet up. How long will you be?”
“Fifteen minutes, give or take.”
“A fiver says we beat you.”
“You’re on,” Siobhan said, pressing her foot a little harder to the accelerator. It was a few moments before she realized she didn’t know where Rebus had been calling from…
True to form, he was waiting for her in the car park of Port Edgar Academy, leaning against Hogan’s Passat, one foot crossed over the other, arms folded.
“You cheated,” she said, getting out of her car.
“Caveat emptor. That’s five quid you owe me.”
“No way.”
“You took the bet, Siobhan. A lady always pays up.”
She shook her head, reached into her pocket. “Here’s that letter, by the way,” she said, producing the envelope. Rebus held out his hand. “Cost you a fiver to read it.”
Rebus looked at her. “For the privilege of giving you my expert opinion?” His hand stayed outstretched, the envelope just out of reach. “All right, it’s a deal,” he said, curiosity winning in the end.
In the car, he read it through several times while Siobhan drove.
“A fiver wasted,” he finally offered. “Who’s Cody?”
“I think it means ‘Come On Die Young.’ It’s a gang thing, from America.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s a Mogwai album. I loaned you their stuff.”
“Might be a name. Buffalo Bill, for example.”
“The connection being…?”
“I don’t know.” Rebus refolded the note, examining its creases, peering inside the envelope.
“Good Sherlock Holmes impression,” Siobhan said.
