University. …”
‘James,’ Finlay Andrews warned, ‘you’re talking shop.’
‘Am I?’ Carew seemed genuinely surprised. He gave Rebus that smile again. ‘Sorry.’
‘I recommend the sirloin,’ said Andrews. When the
waiter returned to take their order, Rebus made a point of ordering sole.
He tried to be casual, not to stare at the other diners, not to examine the minutiae of the tablecloth, the implements unknown to him, the finger bowls, the hallmarked cutlery. But then this was one of those once-in-a- lifetime things, wasn’t it? So why not stare? He did, and saw fifty or so well-fed, happy faces, mostly male, with the occasional decorative female for the sake of decency, of elegance. Prime fillet. That’s what everyone else seemed to be having. And wine.
‘Who wants to choose the wine?’ said McCall, flourishing the list. Carew looked eager to snatch, and Rebus held back. It wouldn’t do, would it? To grab the list, to say me, me, me. To look with hungry eyes at the prices, wishing….
‘If I may,’ said Finlay Andrews, lifting the wine list from McCall’s hand. Rebus studied the hallmark on his fork.
‘So,’ said McCall, looking at Rebus, ‘Superintendent Watson has roped you in on our little mission, eh?’
‘I don’t know that any rope was needed,’ said Rebus. ‘I’m glad to help if I can.’
‘I’m sure your experience will be invaluable,’ Watson said to Rebus, beaming at him. Rebus stared back evenly, but said nothing.
As luck would have it, Andrews seemed to know a bit about wine himself, and ordered a decent ‘82 claret and a crisp Chablis. Rebus perked up a bit as Andrews did the ordering. What was the name of the gaming club again? Andrews? Finlay’s? Yes, that was it. Finlay’s. He’d heard of it, a small casino, quiet. There had never been any cause for Rebus to go there, either on business or for pleasure. What pleasure was there in losing money?
‘Is your Chinaman still haunting the place, Finlay?’ asked McCall now, while two waiters ladled a thin
covering of soup into wide-circumferenced Victorian soup plates.
‘He won’t get in again. Management reserves the right to refuse entry, et cetera.’
McCall chuckled, turned to Rebus.
‘Finlay had a bad run back there. The Chinese are terrible for gambling, you know. Well, this one Chinaman was taking Finlay for a ride.’
‘I had an inexperienced croupier,’ Andrews explained. ‘The experienced eye, and I do mean experienced, could tell pretty much where the ball was going to land on the roulette wheel, just by watching carefully how this youngster was flicking the ball.’
‘Remarkable,’ said Watson, before blowing on a spoonful of soup.
‘Not really,’ said Andrews. ‘I’ve seen it before. It’s simply a matter of spotting the type before they manage to lay on a really heavy bet. But then, you have to take the rough with the smooth. This has been a good year so far, a lot of money moving north, finding there’s not so much to do up here, so why not simply gamble it away?’
‘Money moving north?’ Rebus was interested.
‘People, jobs. London executives with London salaries and London habits. Haven’t you noticed?’
‘I can’t say I have,’ Rebus confessed. ‘Not around Pilmuir at any rate.’
There were smiles at this.
‘My estate agency has certainly noticed it,’ said Carew. ‘Larger properties are in great demand. Corporate buyers in some cases. Businesses moving north, opening offices. They know a good thing when they see it, and Edinburgh is a good thing. House prices have gone through the roof. I see no reason for them to stop.’ He caught Rebus’s eye. ‘They’re even building new homes in Pilmuir.’
‘Finlay,’ McCall interrupted, ‘tell Inspector Rebus where the Chinese players keep their money.’
‘Not while we’re eating, please,’ said Watson, and when McCall, chuckling to himself, looked down at his soup plate, Rebus saw Andrews flash the man a hateful look.
The wine had arrived, chilled and the colour of honey. Rebus sipped. Carew was asking Andrews about some planning permission to do with an extension to the casino.
‘It seems to be all right.’ Andrews tried not to sound smug. Tommy McCall laughed.
‘I’ll bet it does,’ he said. ‘Would your neighbours find the going as smooth if they tried to stick a big bloody extension on the back of their premises?’
Andrews gave a smile as cold as the Chablis. ‘Each case is considered individually and scrupulously, Tommy, so far as I know. Maybe you know better?’
‘No, no.’ McCall had finished his first glass of wine, and was reaching for a second. ‘I’m sure it’s all totally above board, Finlay.’ He looked conspiratorially at Rebus. ‘I hope you’re not going to tell tales, John.’
‘No.’ Rebus glanced towards Andrews, who was finishing his soup. ‘Over lunch, my ears are closed.’
Watson nodded agreement.
‘Hello there, Finlay.’ A large man, heavily built but with the accent on muscularity, was standing by the table. He was wearing the most expensive-looking suit Rebus had ever seen. A silken sheen of blue with threads of silver running through it. The man’s hair was silvered, too, though his face looked to be fortyish, no more. Beside him, leaning in towards him, stood a delicate Oriental woman, more girl than woman. She was exquisite, and everyone at the table rose in a kind of awe. The man waved an elegant hand, demanding they be seated. The woman hid her pleasure beneath her eyelashes.
