and Johnson was on his feet, fists clenched.
“Let’s settle it now!” he was shouting. Rebus slipped his hands into his pockets.
“I’d prefer to wait for the court case, if that’s all right with you,” he said.
“No way! I’m sick and tired of this!”
“Good,” Rebus said. He saw Siobhan emerging from the corridor, looking at him in disbelief. Probably thought he’d gone to the toilet. Her eyes said it all:
“Any trouble here?” The question coming not from Siobhan but from some sort of doorman, thick-necked and wearing a tight black suit over a black polo neck. He was fitted with an earpiece and microphone. His shaven head shone beneath what light there was.
“Just a little argument,” Rebus assured him. “In fact, maybe you can settle it: name of Elton John’s old record label?”
The doorman looked nonplussed. The barman had his hand raised. Rebus nodded at him. “DJM,” the barman said.
Rebus snapped his fingers. “That’s the one! Chalk up a drink for yourself, anything you like…” He headed for the corridor, pointed back towards Peacock Johnson. “On that little bastard’s tab…”
“You never talk much about your army days,” Siobhan said, bringing two plates in from the kitchen. Rebus had already been provided with a tray, knife and fork. Condiments were on the floor at his feet. He gave a nod of thanks, accepting the plate: a grilled pork chop with baked potato and corn on the cob.
“This looks great,” he said, lifting his wineglass. “Compliments to the chef.”
“I microwaved the potatoes, and the corn came out of the freezer.”
Rebus put a finger to his lips. “Never give away your secrets.”
“A lesson you’ve taken to heart.” She blew on a forkful of pork. “Want me to repeat the question?”
“Thing is, Siobhan, it wasn’t a question.”
She thought back, and saw that he was right. “Nevertheless,” she said.
“You want me to answer?” He watched her nod, then took a sip of his wine. Chilean red, she’d told him. Three quid a bottle. “Mind if I eat first?”
“You can’t eat and talk at the same time?”
“Bad manners, so my mum used to tell me.”
“You always listened to your parents?”
“Always.”
“And took their advice as gospel?” He nodded, chewing on some potato skin. “Then how come we’re talking and eating at the same time?”
Rebus washed the mouthful down with more wine. “Okay, I give in. To answer the question you didn’t ask, yes.” She was expecting more, but he was concentrating on his food again.
“Yes what?”
“Yes, it’s true I don’t talk much about my army days.”
Siobhan exhaled noisily. “I’d get more chat out of one of the clients down at the morgue.” She stopped, squeezed shut her eyes for a second. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay.” But Rebus’s chewing had slowed. Two of the current “clients”: family member and ex-colleague. Strange to think of them lying on adjacent metal trays in the morgue’s chilled lockers. “Thing about my army days is, I’ve spent years trying to forget them.”
“Why?”
“All sorts of reasons. I shouldn’t have signed on the dotted line in the first place. Then I woke up and I was in Ulster, aiming a rifle at kids armed with Molotovs. Ended up trying for the SAS and getting my brain scrambled in the process.” He gave a shrug. “That’s about all there is to it.”
“So why did you join the police?”
He raised the glass to his mouth. “Who else was going to take me?” He put the tray aside, leaned down to pour more wine. Raised the bottle towards Siobhan, but she shook her head. “Now you know why they’ve never got me to front a recruiting drive.”
She looked at his plate. Most of the chop was still left. “You going veggie on me?”
He patted his stomach. “It’s great, but I’m not that hungry.”
She thought for a moment. “It’s the meat, isn’t it? It hurts your hands when you try to cut it.”
He shook his head. “I’m just full, that’s all.” But he could see she knew she was right. She started eating again, while he concentrated on the wine.
“I think you’re a lot like Lee Herdman,” she said at last.
“A backhanded compliment if ever I heard one.”
“People thought they knew him, but they didn’t. There was so much he managed to keep hidden.”
“And that’s me, is it?”
She nodded, holding his stare. “Why did you go back to Martin Fairstone’s house? I get the feeling it wasn’t just about me.”
“You ‘get the feeling’?” He peered down into his wine, seeing his reflection there, red-hued and wavering. “I knew he’d given you that black eye.”
“Which gave you an excuse to go talk to him… but what was it you really wanted?”
“Fairstone and Johnson were friends. I needed some ammo on Johnson.” He paused, realizing “ammo” was not the most subtle choice of word.
“Did you get any?”
Rebus shook his head. “Fairstone and Peacock had had a falling-out. Fairstone hadn’t seen him in weeks.”
“Why had they fallen out?”
“He wouldn’t say exactly. I got the feeling a woman might’ve been involved.”
“Does Peacock have a girlfriend?”
“One for every day of the year.”
“So maybe it was Fairstone’s girlfriend?”
Rebus nodded. “The blonde from the Boatman’s. What was her name again?”
“Rachel.”
“And there’s no good reason we can think of why she was in South Queensferry on Friday?”
Siobhan shook her head.
“But Peacock popped up in town, too, night of the vigil.”
“Coincidence?”
“What else could it be?” Rebus asked wryly. He stood up, taking the bottle with him. “You better help me out with this.” Went forwards to pour some wine into her glass, then emptied what was left into his own. He stayed standing, walked over to her window. “You really think I’m like Lee Herdman?”
“I don’t think either of you ever really managed to leave the past behind.”
He turned to look at her. She raised an eyebrow, inviting a comeback, but he just smiled and turned back to stare out at the night.
“And maybe you’re a bit like Doug Brimson, too,” she went on. “Remember what you said about him?”
“What?”
“You said he collected people.”
“And that’s what I do?”
“It might explain your interest in Andy Callis… and why it pisses you off to see Kate with Jack Bell.”
He turned slowly to face her, arms folded. “Does that make you one of my specimens?”
“I don’t know. What do
“I reckon you’re tougher than that.”
“You better believe it,” she said with just the hint of a smile.
When he’d called for the taxi, he’d given Arden Street as the destination, but that had been for Siobhan’s benefit. He told the driver there’d been a change of plan: they’d be making a short stop at the Leith police station before heading out to South Queensferry. At journey’s end, Rebus asked for a receipt, thinking he could maybe charge it to the inquiry. He’d have to be quick, though: he couldn’t see Claverhouse giving the nod to a twenty-quid
