“Thanks for letting me tag along,” Brimson said.
“It’s me who should be thanking you. Send us the bill for your fuel and your time.”
Brimson just shrugged, turned to squeeze Siobhan’s hand, holding on to it a little longer than necessary. Wagged a finger of his free hand at her.
“Remember, I’ll be expecting you.”
She smiled. “A promise is a promise, Doug. But meantime, I wonder if I can be cheeky…?”
“Go ahead.”
“I just wondered if I could take a peek at the corporate jet, to see how the other half lives.”
He stared at her for a moment, then smiled back. “No problem. It’s in the hangar.” Brimson started to lead the way. “Coming, Inspector?”
“I’ll wait here,” Rebus said. After they’d gone, he managed to get a cigarette lit, sheltering by the side of the Cessna. They reappeared five minutes later, Brimson’s good humor evaporating as he saw the stub of Rebus’s cigarette.
“Strictly forbidden,” he said. “Fire hazard, you understand.”
Rebus gave a shrug of apology, nipped the cigarette and crushed it underfoot. As he followed Siobhan to her car, Brimson was getting into the Land Rover, ready to drive to the gate and unlock it.
“Nice guy,” Rebus said.
“Yes,” Siobhan agreed. “Nice guy.”
“You really think so?”
She looked at him. “Don’t you?”
Rebus shrugged. “I get the feeling he’s a collector.”
“Of what?”
Rebus thought for a moment. “Of interesting specimens… people like Herdman and Niles.”
“He knows the Cotters, too, don’t forget.” Siobhan’s hackles weren’t ready to go down just yet.
“Look, I’m not saying…”
“You’re warning me off him, aren’t you?”
Rebus stayed silent.
“Aren’t you?” she repeated.
“I just don’t want all that corporate jet glamour going to your head.” He paused. “What was it like anyway?”
She glared at him, then relented. “Smallish. Leather seats. They do champagne and hot meals on the flights.”
“Don’t go getting any ideas.”
She gave a twitch of the mouth, asked where he wanted to go, and he told her: Craigmillar police station. The detective there was named Blake. He was a DC, less than a year out of uniform. Rebus didn’t mind that: it meant he’d be keen to prove himself. So Rebus told him what he knew about Andy Callis and the Lost Boys. Blake kept a look of concentration on his face throughout, stopping Rebus from time to time and asking a question, noting everything on a lined legal pad. Siobhan sat in the room with them, arms folded, mostly just staring at the wall ahead. Rebus got the feeling she was thinking of airplane rides…
At the end of the interview, Rebus asked if there’d been any progress. Blake shook his head.
“Still no witnesses. Dr. Curt’s doing the autopsy this afternoon.” He checked his watch. “I might head on down there. You’re welcome to…”
But Rebus was shaking his head. He had no wish to see his friend dissected. “Will you bring Rab Fisher in?”
Blake nodded. “Don’t worry about that, I’ll have a word with him.”
“Don’t expect much in the way of cooperation,” Rebus warned.
“I’ll talk to him.” The young man’s tone told Rebus that he was close to pushing too hard.
“Nobody likes to be told how to do their job,” Rebus acknowledged with a smile.
“At least not until after they’ve screwed it up.” Blake got to his feet, Rebus doing the same. The two men shook hands.
“Nice guy,” Rebus said to Siobhan, as they walked back to her car.
“Too cocky by half,” she responded. “He doesn’t think he’s going to screw anything up… ever.”
“Then he’ll learn the hard way.”
“I hope so. I really do.”
18
The plan had been for them to head back to Siobhan’s flat so she could cook the dinner she’d been promising. They were quiet in the car, and as they got to the junction of Leith Street and York Place, the lights were against them. Rebus turned to her.
“Drink first?” he suggested.
“With me as designated driver?”
“You could take a taxi home after, pick up the car in the morning…”
She was staring at the red light, making up her mind. When it turned green, she signaled to move into the next lane over, heading for Queen Street.
“I’ll assume we’re gracing the Ox with our precious custom,” Rebus said.
“Would anywhere else suit sir’s stringent requirements?”
“Tell you what… we’ll have one drink there, and after that you can choose.”
“Deal.”
So they had their one drink in the smoky front room of the Oxford Bar, the place loud with after-work chat, the late afternoon drifting towards evening. Ancient Egypt on the Discovery Channel. Siobhan was watching the regulars: more entertaining than anything the TV could provide. She noticed that Harry, the dour barman, was smiling.
“He seems unusually chipper,” she commented to Rebus.
“I think young Harry’s in love.” Rebus was trying to make his pint last: Siobhan still hadn’t intimated whether they’d be sticking around for a second drink. She’d ordered a half of cider, already mostly gone. “Want the other half of that?” he asked, nodding towards her glass.
“One drink, you said.”
“Just to keep me company.” He held his own glass aloft, showing how much was left. But she shook her head.
“I know what you’re trying to do,” she told him. He attempted a look of shocked innocence, knowing it wouldn’t fool her for a second. A few more regulars were squeezing into the melee. There were three women seated at a table in the otherwise empty back room, but none in the front bar save Siobhan. She wrinkled her nose at the crush and steady escalation in noise, put her glass to her lips and drained it.
“Come on, then,” she said.
“Where?” Rebus affected a frown. But she just shook her head: not telling. “My jacket’s hanging up,” he told her. He’d taken it off in the hope of gaining a psychological advantage: a sign of how comfortable he felt here.
“Then get it,” she ordered. So he did, and gulped down the remains of his own drink before following her outside.
“Fresh air,” she was saying, breathing deeply. The car was parked on North Castle Street, but they walked past it, heading for George Street. Directly ahead of them, the Castle was illuminated against the ink-dark sky. They turned left, Rebus feeling a stiffness in both legs, the legacy of his trek across Jura.
“Long soak for me tonight,” he commented.
“Bet that was the most exercise you’ve had this year,” Siobhan replied with a smile.
“This decade,” Rebus corrected her. She’d stopped at some steps and was heading down. Her chosen bar was tucked away below sidewalk level, a shop directly above it. The interior was chic, with subdued lighting and music.
