police. Now why should that fact frighten you so much?
The waiter turned, seeming to read Rebus’s mind, and headed stiffly back to the bar.
‘So what brings you two here?’ McCall was lighting a cigarette, glad to have found some company and ready to make a night of it.
‘It was John’s idea,’ Watson said. ‘He wanted to come, so I fixed it with Finlay, then reckoned I might as well come along, too.’
‘Quite right.’ McCall looked around him. ‘Nobody much in tonight though, not yet leastways. The place is usually packed to the gunnels with faces you’d recognise, names you’d know like you know your own. This is tame tonight’
He had offered round his pack of cigarettes, and Rebus had taken one, which he now lit, inhaling gratefully, regretting it immediately as the smoke mixed with the alcohol fumes in his chest. He needed to think fast and hard. Watson and now McCall: he had planned on dealing with neither.
‘By the way, John,’ Tommy McCall said, ‘thanks for the lift last night.’ His tone made the subtext clear to Rebus. ‘Sorry if it was any trouble.’
‘No trouble, Tommy. Did you sleep well?’
‘I never have trouble sleeping.’
‘Me neither,’ interrupted Farmer Watson. ‘The benefits of a clear conscience, eh?’
Tommy turned to Watson. ‘Shame you couldn’t get to Malcolm Lanyon’s party. We had a pretty good time, didn’t we, John?’
Tommy smiled across at Rebus, who smiled back. A group at the next table were laughing at some joke, the men drawing on thick cigars, the women playing with their wrist jewellery. McCall leaned across towards them, hoping perhaps to share in the joke, but his shining eyes and uneven smile kept him apart from them.
Had many tonight, Tommy?’ Rebus asked. McCall, bearing his name, turned back to Rebus and Watson.
One or two,’ he said. ‘A couple of my trucks didn’t deliver on time, drivers on the piss or something. Lost me two big contracts. Drowning my sorrows.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Watson said with sincerity. Rebus nodded agreement, but McCall shook his head theatrically.
It’s nothing,’ he said. ‘I’m thinking of selling the business anyway, retiring while I’m still young. Barbados, Spain, who knows. Buy a little villa.’ His eyes narrowed, his voice dropping to a whisper. ‘And guess who’s interested in buying me out? You’ll never guess in a million years. Finlay.’
‘Finlay Andrews?’
The same.’ McCall sat back, drew on his cigarette, blinking into the smoke. ‘Finlay Andrews.’ He leaned forward again confidentially. ‘He’s got a finger in quite a few pies, you know. It’s not just this place. He’s got this and that directorship, shares here there and everywhere, you name it.’
Your drinks.’ The waiter’s voice had more than a note of disapproval in it. He seemed to want to linger, even after McCall had pitched a ten-pound note onto the tray and waved him away.
Aye.’ McCall continued after the waiter had retreated. Fingers in plenty of pies. All strictly above board, mind. You’d have a hellish job proving otherwise.’
And he wants to buy you out?’ Rebus asked.
McCall shrugged. ‘He’s made a good price. Not a great price, but I won’t starve.’
Your change, sir.’ It was the waiter again, his voice cold as a chisel. He held the salver out towards McCall, who stared up at him.
I didn’t want any change,’ he explained. ‘It was a tip. Still.” he winked at Rebus and Watson, scooping the coins
from the tray, ‘if you don’t want it, son, I suppose I might as well have it back.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Rebus loved this. The waiter was giving McCall every kind of danger signal there was, but McCall was too drunk or too naive to notice. At the same time, Rebus was aware of complications which might be about to result from the presence of Superintendent Watson and Tommy McCall at Finlay’s, on the night Finlay’s erupted.
There was a sudden commotion from the entrance hall, raised voices, boisterous rather than angry. And Pau- lette’s voice, too, pleading, then remonstrative. Rebus glanced at his watch again. Eight fifty. Right on time.
‘What’s going on?’ Everybody in the bar was interested, and a few had risen from their seats to investigate. The barman pushed a button on the wall beside the optics, then made for the hall. Rebus followed. Just inside the front door Paulette was arguing with several men, dressed in business suits but far the worse for wear. One was telling her that she couldn’t refuse him, because he was wearing a tie. Another explained that they were in town for the evening and had heard about the club from someone in a bar.
‘Philip, his name was. He told us to say Philip had said it was okay and we could come in.’
‘I’m sorry, gentlemen, but this is a private club.’ The barman was joining in now, but his presence was unwanted.
‘Talking to the lady here, pal, okay? All we want is a drink and maybe a wee flutter, isn’t that right?’
Rebus watched as two more ‘waiters’, hard young men with angular faces, came quickly down the stairs from the first floor.
‘Now look -’
‘Just a wee flutter -’
