“Why?”
“Because he probably doesn’t want to speak to me right now.”
“And what is it I’m phoning him for?” Siobhan had her mobile out.
“To ask if Whiteread was forthcoming with Lee Herdman’s army records. The answer’s probably no, in which case he should have called the army direct. I want to know if they’ve come through.”
Siobhan was nodding, pushing buttons. The conversation from then on was one-sided.
“DI Hogan, it’s Siobhan Clarke…” Listening, she looked up at Rebus. “No, I’ve no idea what that was about… I think he was called to Fettes.” She widened her eyes questioningly, and Rebus nodded to let her know she’d said the right thing. “What I was wondering was, did you get round to asking Ms. Whiteread for the records on Herdman?” She listened to Hogan’s reply. “Well, John mentioned it to me, and I just thought I’d follow up…” She listened again, squeezing her eyes shut tight. “No, he’s not here listening in.” She’d opened her eyes again. Rebus winked, to let her know she was doing fine. “Mmm… hmm…” She was listening to Hogan. “Doesn’t sound like she’s being as cooperative as we’d have liked… Yes, I’ll bet you told her.” A smile. “What did she say?” More listening. “And did you follow her advice?… So what did they say down at Hereford?” Meaning SAS HQ. “So we’re denied access?” Another look at Rebus. “Well, he can be a difficult creature, we both know that.” Talking about Rebus now, Hogan probably saying that he would have told Rebus all this if the scene in the common room hadn’t imploded. “No, I’d no idea he was related to them.” Siobhan made an O of her mouth. “Well, that’s my story and I’m sticking to it.” Her turn to wink at Rebus. He drew a finger across his neck, but she shook her head. She was beginning to enjoy herself. “And I’ll bet you’ve got a few stories about him, too… I know he is.” A laugh. “No, no, you’re absolutely right. God, it’s just as well he’s not here…” Rebus made a move to snatch the phone from her, but she turned away from him. “Really? Well, thanks. No, that’s… Yes, yes, I’d like that. We’ll maybe… yes, after this has all… I’ll look forward to it. Bye, Bobby.”
She was smiling as she ended the call. Picked up her glass and took a sip.
“I think I got the gist of that,” Rebus muttered.
“I’m to call him ‘Bobby.’ He says I’m a good officer.”
“Jesus…”
“And he’s invited me for a meal, once the case is finished.”
“He’s a married man.”
“He’s not.”
“Okay, his wife left him. He’s old enough to be your dad, though.” Rebus paused. “What did he say about me?”
“Nothing.”
“You laughed when he said it.”
“I was winding you up.”
Rebus glowered at her. “I buy the drinks and you do the winding up? Is that the basis of our relationship?”
“I offered to cook you a meal.”
“So you did.”
“Bobby knows a nice restaurant in Leith.”
“Wonder which kebab shop he’s meaning…”
She thumped his arm. “Go get us another round.”
“After what I’ve just been through?” Rebus shook his head. “Your shout.” He sat back in his chair, as if getting comfortable.
“If that’s the way you want to play it…” Siobhan got to her feet. She wanted a closer look at the woman anyway. But the blonde was leaving, tucking cigarettes and lighter into her shoulder bag, head dipped so that Siobhan could make out only part of her face.
“See you later!” the woman called.
“Aye, see you,” McAllister called back. He was wiping the bartop with a damp cloth. The smile slid from his face at Siobhan’s approach. “Same again, is it?” he asked.
She nodded. “Friend of yours?”
He’d turned away to measure out Rebus’s whiskey. “In a way.”
“I seem to know her from somewhere.”
“Oh, aye?” He placed the drink in front of her. “You want the half as well?”
She nodded. “And another lime juice and…”
“… and soda. I remember. Nothing in the whiskey, ice in the lime.” Another order was already coming from farther down the bar: two lagers and a rum and black. He rang up Siobhan’s drinks, was brisk with her change, and started on the lagers, making a show of being too busy for chitchat. Siobhan stood her ground a few moments longer, then decided it wasn’t worth it. She was halfway back to the table when she remembered. Brought up short, some of Rebus’s beer trickled down the side of the glass, dripping onto the scuffed wooden floor.
“Whoa there,” Rebus cautioned, watching from his chair. She got the drinks to the table and set them down. Went to the window and looked out, but there was no sign of the blonde.
“I know who she was,” she said.
“Who?”
“The woman who just left. You must have seen her.”
“Long blond hair, tight pink T-shirt, short leather jacket? Black ski pants and heels slightly too high for their own good?” Rebus took a sip of beer. “Can’t say I noticed.”
“But you didn’t recognize her?”
“Any reason I should?”
“Well, according to today’s front page, you only went and torched her boyfriend.” Siobhan sat back, holding her own glass in front of her, waiting for her words to sink in.
“Fairstone’s girlfriend?” Rebus said, eyes narrowing.
Siobhan nodded. “I only saw her the once, the day Fairstone walked free.”
Rebus was looking towards the bar. “You’re sure it was her?”
“Fairly sure. When I heard her speak… Yes, I’m positive. I saw her outside the court, when the trial finished.”
“Just that once?”
Siobhan nodded again. “I wasn’t the one who interviewed her about the alibi she gave her boyfriend, and she wasn’t in court when I gave my evidence.”
“What’s her name?”
Siobhan narrowed her eyes in concentration. “Rachel something.”
“Where does Rachel something live?”
Siobhan shrugged. “I’d guess not too far from her boyfriend.”
“Making this not exactly her local.”
“Not exactly.”
“Ten miles from her local, to be precise.”
“More or less.” Siobhan was still holding the glass; had yet to take her first sip.
“You had any more of those letters?”
She shook her head.
“Think she could be following you?”
“Not every minute of the day. I’d’ve spotted her.” Now Siobhan looked towards the bar, too. McAllister’s flurry of activity had ended and he was back to washing glasses. “Of course, it might not be me she came here to see…”
Rebus got Siobhan to drop him off at Allan Renshaw’s house. He told her she should go home; he’d take a taxi back into town or get a patrol car to pick him up.
“I don’t know how long I’ll be,” he’d said. Not an official visit, just family. She’d nodded, driven off. He’d rung the doorbell with no success. Peered through the window. The boxes of snapshots were still spread out across the living room. No sign of life. He tried the door handle, and it turned. The door was unlocked.
“Allan?” he called. “Kate?”
He closed the door behind him. There was a buzzing noise from upstairs. He called out again, but without
