‘Of course,’ said Rebus. He turned towards the barman. ‘Gin and tonic,’ he said. Then he turned again to watch her pass through the large hallway towards the main door.
‘Hello, John.’ A much firmer hand slapped Rebus’s shoulder. It belonged to Tommy McCall.
‘Hello, Tommy.’ Rebus accepted a drink from the
barman, and McCall handed over his own empty glass for a refill.
‘Glad you could make it. Of course, it’s not quite as lively as usual tonight. Everyone’s a bit subdued.’
‘Subdued?’ It was true, the conversations around them were muted. Then Rebus noticed a few black ties.
‘I only came along because I thought James would have wanted it that way.’
‘Of course,’ Rebus said, nodding. He’d forgotten all about James Carew’s suicide. Christ, it had only happened this morning! It seemed like a lifetime ago. And all these people had been Carew’s friends or acquaintances. Rebus”’s nostrils twitched.
‘Had he seemed depressed lately?’ he asked.
‘Not especially. He’d just bought himself that car, remember. Hardly the act of a depressed man!’
‘I suppose not. Did you know him well?’
‘I don’t think any of us knew him well. He kept himself pretty much to himself. And of course he spent a lot of time away from town, sometimes on business, sometimes staying on his estate.’
‘He wasn’t married, was he?’
Tommy McCall stared at him, then took a large mouthful of whisky. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe he ever was. It’s a blessing in a way.’
‘Yes, I see what you mean,’ said Rebus, feeling the gin easing itself into his system. ‘But I still don’t understand why he would do it.’
‘It’s always the quiet ones though, isn’t it? Malcolm was just saying that a few minutes ago.’
Rebus looked around them. ‘I haven’t seen our host yet.’
‘I think he’s in the lounge. Shall I give you the tour?’
‘Yes, why not?’
‘It’s quite a place.’ McCall turned to Rebus. ‘Shall we
start upstairs in the billiards room, or downstairs at the swimming pool?’
Rebus laughed and shook his empty glass. ‘I think the first place to visit is the bar, don’t you?’
The house was stunning, there was no other word for it. Rebus thought briefly of poor Brian Holmes, and smiled. You and me both, kid. The guests were nice, too. He recognised some of them by face, some by name, a few by reputation, and many by the titles of the companies they headed. But of the host there was no sign, though everyone claimed to have spoken with him ‘earlier in the evening’.
Later, as Tommy McCall was becoming noisy and inebriated, Rebus, by no means on his steadiest legs himself, decided on another tour of the house. But alone this time. There was a library on the first floor, which had received cursory attention on the first circuit. But there was a working desk in there, and Rebus was keen to take a closer look. On the landing, he glanced around him, but everyone seemed to be downstairs. A few guests had even donned swimsuits, and were lounging by (or in) the twenty-foot-long heated pool in the basement.
He turned the heavy brass handle and slipped into the dimly lit library. In here there was a smell of old leather, a smell which took Rebus back to past decades - the ‘twenties, say, or perhaps the ‘thirties. There was a lamp on the desktop, illuminating some papers there. Rebus was at the desk before he realised something: the lamp had not been lit on his first visit here. He turned and saw Lanyon, standing against the far wall with his arms folded, grinning.
‘Inspector,’ he said, his voice as rich as his tailoring. ‘What an interesting jacket that is. Saiko told me you’d arrived.’
Lanyon walked forward slowly and extended a hand, which Rebus took. He returned the firm grip.
‘I hope I’m not …” he began. ‘I mean, it was kind of you. . ..’
‘Good lord, not at all. Is the Superintendent coming?’
Rebus shrugged his shoulders, feeling the jacket tight across his back.
‘No, well, never mind. I see that like me you are a studious man.’ Lanyon surveyed the shelves of books. ‘This is my favourite room in the whole house. I don’t know why I bother holding parties. It is expected, I suppose, and that’s why I do it. Also of course it is interesting to note the various permutations, who’s talking with whom, whose hand just happened to squeeze whose arm a touch too tenderly. That sort of thing.’
‘You won’t see much from here,’ Rebus said.
‘But Saiko tells me. She’s marvellous at catching that sort of thing, no matter how subtle people think they are being. For example, she told me about your jacket. Beige, she said, cord, neither matching the rest of your wardrobe nor quite fitting your figure. Therefore borrowed, am I right?’
Rebus applauded silently. ‘Bravo,’ he said. ‘I suppose that’s what makes you such a good lawyer.’
‘No, years and years of study are what have made me a good lawyer. But to be a known lawyer, well, that demands a few simple party tricks, such as the one I’ve just shown you.’
Lanyon walked past Rebus and stopped at the writing desk. He sifted through the papers.
‘Was there anything special you were interested in?’
