“Redford Barracks maybe? Or the Castle: there’s a garrison there, isn’t there?”
Rebus nodded: they were decent enough answers. He just didn’t think they were right. “Does Whiteread look as though she roughs it? Besides, she’d want to stick close to the action.”
“Fair enough: a local hotel, then.”
Rebus nodded. “That’s what I reckon. Either that or bed-and-breakfast.” He gnawed at his bottom lip.
“The Boatman’s has a couple of rooms, doesn’t it?”
Rebus nodded slowly. “Let’s start there, then.”
“Am I allowed to ask why?”
Rebus shook his head. “Less you know, the better-that’s a promise.”
“You don’t think you’re in enough trouble?”
“Room for a bit more, I think.” He tried a reassuring wink, but Siobhan looked far from convinced.
The Boatman’s wasn’t yet open for business, but when the barman recognized Siobhan, he let them in.
“It’s Rod, isn’t it?” Siobhan said. Rod McAllister nodded. “This is my colleague, DI Rebus.”
“Hello,” McAllister said.
“Rod knew Lee Herdman,” Siobhan reminded Rebus.
“Did he ever sell you any Eckies?” Rebus asked.
“Pardon?”
Rebus just shook his head. Now that they were inside the bar, he breathed deeply: last night’s beer and cigarettes, failing to be masked by furniture polish. McAllister had been busy with paperwork, piled on top of the bar. He was running a hand beneath his baggy T-shirt, scratching his chest. The T-shirt had faded badly, its seam broken at one shoulder.
“You a Hawkwind fan?” Siobhan asked. McAllister looked down at the front of the shirt. The faint print showed the cover of
Rebus butted in to provide the names, but McAllister shook his head. He was looking at Siobhan, didn’t seem interested in Rebus.
“Anywhere else in the town that might put up visitors?” Siobhan asked.
McAllister scratched at his stubble, reminding Rebus that the shaving he himself had carried out this morning had been tentative at best.
“There’s a few,” McAllister admitted. “You said someone might come to talk to me about Lee…?”
“Did I?”
“Well, it’s just that nobody has.”
“Any idea why he did it?” Rebus asked abruptly. McAllister shook his head. “Then let’s concentrate on those addresses, shall we?”
“Addresses?”
“B and Bs, other hotels…”
McAllister understood. Siobhan took out her notebook, and he started reciting the names. After half a dozen, he shook his head to let them know he was finished. “Might be more,” he admitted with a shrug.
“Enough to be going on with,” Rebus said. “We’ll let you get back to the important work, Mr. McAllister.”
“Right… thanks.” McAllister made a little bow, and held the door open for Siobhan. Outside, she consulted her notebook.
“This could take all day.”
“If we want it to,” Rebus said. “Looks like you’ve got an admirer.”
She looked up in the direction of the hotel window, saw McAllister’s face there. He shrank back, turned away. “You could do a lot worse-just imagine, never having to pay for another drink in your life…”
“Something you’ve striven towards.”
“That’s a low blow. I pay my share.”
“If you say so.” She waved the notebook at him. “There’s an easier route, you know.”
“Name it.”
“Ask Bobby Hogan. He’s bound to know where they’re staying.”
Rebus shook his head. “Best keep Bobby out of it.”
“Why am I getting such a bad feeling about this?”
“Let’s get back in the car and you can start making those calls.”
Sliding into her seat, she turned to him. “A sixty-grand yacht-where did the money come from?”
“Drugs, obviously.”
“You think so?”
“I think it’s what we’re supposed to be thinking. Nothing we’ve learned about Herdman makes him look like a drug baron.”
“Except his magnetic attraction for bored teenagers.”
“Didn’t they teach you anything at college?”
“Such as?”
“Not jumping to conclusions.”
“I forgot-that’s your department.”
“Another one below the belt. Careful, or the referee will step in.”
She stared at him. “You know something, don’t you?”
He held her stare and shook his head slowly. “Not until you make those calls…”
13
They got lucky: the third address was a hotel just outside town, overlooking the Road Bridge. Its car park was blustery and deserted. Two telescopes were waiting forlornly for tourists. Rebus tried one but couldn’t see anything.
“You have to put money in,” Siobhan explained, indicating the coin slot. Rebus didn’t bother, made for reception instead.
“You should wait out here,” he warned her.
“And miss all the fun?” She followed him in, trying not to show how worried she was. He was on painkillers… and looking for trouble. A bad combination. She’d seen him cross the line before, but he’d always been in control. But with his hands still blistered and pink, and the Complaints about to investigate him for involvement in a possible murder… There was a member of the staff behind the reception desk.
“Good morning,” the woman said brightly.
Rebus already had his ID out. “Lothian and Borders Police,” he said. “You’ve got a woman named Whiteread staying here.”
Fingers clacked against a computer keyboard. “That’s right.”
Rebus leaned across the desk. “I need access to her room.”
The receptionist looked confused. “I’m not…”
“If you’re not in charge, can I speak with whoever is?”
“I’m not sure…”
“Or you could save us the trouble and just give me a key.”
The woman looked more flustered than ever. “I’ll have to find my supervisor.”
“You do that, then.” Rebus placed his hands behind his back, as though impatient. The receptionist picked up her phone, tried a couple of numbers, but didn’t find who she was looking for. The lift sounded, doors slid open. One of the cleaners got out, carrying a duster and a can of aerosol spray. The receptionist put down the phone.
“I’ll just have to find her.” Rebus sighed and checked his watch. Then stared at the receptionist’s back as she pushed open some swing doors and disappeared. He leaned over the desk again, this time pulling the computer screen around so he could see it.
“Room two-twelve,” he told Siobhan. “You staying here?”
She shook her head, followed him to the lift. He pushed the button for the second floor. The doors closed with a
