There was nowhere in Ronnie’s bedroom for them to sit, but that didn’t matter, since neither could have sat still for more than a second or two anyway. They were filled with energy: Neil needing to tell his story, Rebus needing to be told. Rebus chose in front of the window as his territory, and paced backwards and forwards without seeming to, his head down, stopping from time to time to lend more concentration to Neil’s words. Neil stayed by the door,
swinging the handle to and fro, listening for that moment before the whole door creaked, and then pulling or pushing the door through that slow, rending sound. The torch served the scene well, casting unruly shadows over the walls, making silhouettes of each man’s profile, the talker and the listener.
‘Sure, I knew what he was up to,’ Neil said. ‘He may have been older than me, but I always knew him better than he knew me. I mean, I knew how his mind worked.’
‘So you knew he was a junkie?’
‘I knew he took drugs. He started when we were at school. He was caught once, almost expelled. They let him back.in after three months, so he could do his exams. He passed the lot of them. That’s more than I did.’
Yes, Rebus thought, admiration could make you turn a blind eye. …
‘He ran away after the exams. We didn’t hear anything from him for months. My mum and dad almost went crazy. Then they just shut him out completely, switched off. It was like he didn’t exist. I wasn’t supposed to mention him in the house.’
‘But he got in touch with you?’
‘Yes. Wrote a letter to me care of a pal of mine. Clever move that. So I got the letter without Mum and Dad knowing. He told me he had come to Edinburgh. That he liked it better than Stirling. That he had a job and a girlfriend. That was it, no address or phone number.’
‘Did he write often?’
‘Now and then. He lied a lot, made things seem better than they were. Said he couldn’t come back to Stirling until he had a Porsche and a flat, so he could prove something to Mum and Dad. Then he stopped writing. I left school and joined the police.’
‘And came to Edinburgh.’
‘Not straight away, but yes, eventually.’
‘Specifically to find him?’
Neil smiled.
‘Not a bit of it. I was forgetting him, too. I had my own life to think about.’
‘So what happened?’
‘I caught him one night, out on my regular beat.’
‘What beat is that exactly?’
‘I’m based out at Musselburgh.’
‘Musselburgh? Not exactly walking distance of here, is it? So what do you mean “caught him”?’
‘Well, not caught, since he wasn’t really doing anything. But he was high as a kite, and he’d been bashed up a bit.’
‘Did he tell you what he’d been doing?’
‘No. I could guess though.’
‘What?’
‘Acting as a punchbag for some of the rough traders around Calton Hill.’
‘Funny, someone else mentioned that.’
‘It happens. Quick money for people who don’t give a shit.’
‘And Ronnie didn’t give a shit?’
‘Sometimes he did. Other times. … I don’t know, maybe I didn’t know his mind as well as I thought.’
‘So you started to visit him?’
‘I had to help him home that first night. I came back the next day. He was surprised to see me, didn’t even remember that I’d helped him home the previous night.’
‘Did you try to get him off drugs?’
Neil was silent. The door creaked on its hinges.
‘At the beginning I did,’ he said at last. ‘But he seemed
to be in control. That sounds stupid, I know, after what
I’ve said about finding him in such a state that first night,
but it was his choice, after all, as he kept reminding me.’
‘What did he think of having a brother in the force?’
‘He thought it was funny. Mind you, I never came
round here with my uniform on.’
‘Not till tonight.’
