A Question of Blood

“I’ll see you at the boatyard then.”

She ended the call and came off the highway at the last off-ramp before the Forth Road Bridge. Drove down the hill into South Queensferry and turned left on Shore Road. Her phone trilled again.

“Change of plan?” she asked into the mouthpiece.

“Not until we’ve got a plan to change, which is the very reason I’m calling.”

She recognized the voice: Doug Brimson. “Sorry, I thought you were someone else. What can I do for you?”

“I was just wondering if you’re ready to take to the skies again.”

She smiled to herself. “Maybe I am.”

“Great. How about tomorrow?”

She considered for a moment. “I could probably sneak out for an hour.”

“Late afternoon? Just before the sun goes down?”

“Okay.”

“And you’ll take the controls this time?”

“I think I could be persuaded.”

“Great. How does sixteen hundred hours sound?”

“It sounds like four in the afternoon.”

He laughed. “I’ll see you then, Siobhan.”

“Good-bye, Doug.”

She placed the phone back on the passenger seat, staring at the sky through her windshield. Imagined herself flying a plane… Imagined having a panic attack in the middle of it. But she didn’t think she’d panic. Besides, Doug Brimson would be there with her. No need for her to worry.

She parked outside the marina’s cafeteria, went in and reappeared with a Mars bar. She was throwing out the wrapper when Rebus’s Saab arrived. He passed her and stopped at the far end of the car park, fifty yards closer to Herdman’s shed. By the time he’d got out and locked his door, she’d caught up with him.

“So what are we doing here?” she asked, swallowing the last cloying mouthful.

“Apart from ruining our teeth?” he said. “I want one last look at the shed.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”

The doors to the boathouse were closed but not locked. Rebus slid them open. Simms was crouching on the deck of the parked dinghy. He looked up at the interruption. Rebus nodded towards the crowbar in his hand.

“Taking the place apart?” he guessed.

“Never know what you’ll find,” Simms said. “Our record in that department is rather better than yours, after all.”

Hearing the voices, Whiteread had emerged from the office. She was holding a sheaf of papers.

“All getting a bit frantic, isn’t it?” Rebus said, walking towards her. “Claverhouse is getting ready to call it a day, and that’s not what you’d call music to the ears, is it?”

Whiteread managed a thin, cold smile. Rebus wondered what it would take to faze her, thought he had a pretty good idea.

“I assume it was you who put that journalist on to us,” she said. “He wanted to ask about a helicopter crash on Jura. Which got me wondering…”

“Do tell,” Rebus said.

“I had an interesting chat this morning,” she drawled, “with a man named Douglas Brimson. Seems the three of you took a little trip together.” Her eyes flitted towards Siobhan.

“Did we?” Rebus said. He’d stopped walking, but Whiteread hadn’t, not until her face was inches from his.

“He took you to Jura. From there, you went looking for a crash site.” She was studying his face for any sign of weakness. Rebus’s eyes flickered in Siobhan’s direction. Bastard didn’t need to tell them! A red tint had appeared on her cheeks.

“Did we?” was all Rebus could think to say.

Whiteread had risen on her toes, so her face was level with his. “The thing is, DI Rebus, how could you possibly have known about that?”

“About what?”

“Only way you could have known was if you had access to confidential files.”

“Is that right?” Rebus watched Simms climb down from the boat, still holding the crowbar. He gave a shrug. “Well, if these files you’re talking about are confidential, I can’t have seen them, can I?”

“Not without a spot of breaking and entering…” Whiteread turned her attention to Siobhan. “Not to mention photocopying.” She angled her head, pretending to examine the younger woman’s face. “Caught a touch of the sun, DS Clarke? Only, your cheeks seem to be burning.” Siobhan didn’t move, didn’t say anything. “Cat got your tongue?”

Simms was smirking, enjoying the detectives’ discomfort.

“I hear tell,” Rebus said to him, “you’re scared of the dark.”

“Eh?” Simms frowned.

“Explains why you like to keep your door ajar.” Rebus gave a wink, then turned back to Whiteread. “I don’t think you’re going anywhere with this. Not unless you want everyone on the inquiry knowing why you’re really here.”

“From what I hear, you’re already on suspension. Could be facing a murder charge anytime soon.” Whiteread’s eyes were dark points of light. “Added to which, the psychologist at Carbrae says you went behind her back, looked up records without permission.” She paused. “Seems to me you’re already shoulder-deep in shit, Rebus. I can’t think why you’d want more trouble than you’ve already got. Yet here you are, ready and willing to pick a fight with me. Let me try to get through to you.” She leaned forwards so her lips were an inch from his ear. “You’ve not got a prayer,” she said quietly. She pulled back slowly, ready to measure his response. Rebus had one gloved hand held up. She wasn’t sure what the gesture meant. A frown furrowed her brow. And then she saw what he was holding between thumb and middle finger. Saw it glint and sparkle in the light.

A single diamond.

“What the hell…?” Simms muttered.

Rebus closed his hand around the diamond.

“Finders keepers,” he said, turning, starting to walk away. Siobhan fell into step with him, waited till they were back outdoors before she spoke.

“What was all that about?”

“Just a fishing expedition.”

“But what does it mean? Where did the diamond come from?”

Rebus smiled. “Friend of mine, he runs a jeweler’s shop on Queensferry Street.”

“And?”

“I persuaded him to let me borrow it.” Rebus was tucking the diamond back into his pocket. “Thing is, they don’t know that.”

“But you’re going to explain it to me, right?”

Rebus nodded slowly. “Just as soon as I find out what I’ve caught with my hook.”

“John…” Half warning, half pleading.

“We going for that drink now?” Rebus asked.

She didn’t reply, tried staring him down as they walked back to his car. She was still staring as he unlocked his door and got in. He started the engine, put it in gear, then rolled down his window.

“I’ll see you there, then” was all he said, making to drive off. Siobhan stood her ground, but he just gave her a wave. Cursing silently, she started stalking towards her own car.

21

Rebus was seated at a window table in the Boatman’s, checking a text message from Steve Holly.