Rebus had let that one go unanswered.
Now, as Reagan opened the door to its fullest extent, they saw that the place was a ready-made bric-a-brac shop, lacking only the cash register.
'Nice, neat job we made of it,' Reagan said, admiring his self-storage handiwork.
'Oh, dear heavens,' Siobhan gasped. Rebus was already punching numbers into his mobile phone.
'Who are you calling?' she asked.
He said nothing, straightening up when the call was answered. 'Grant? Is Wylie with you?' He grinned wickedly. 'Get a pen in your mitt, I'll give you directions. Little job here that's just perfect for the Time Team.'
Linford was back at Fettes, seated in ACC Carswell's office. He sipped his tea - china cup and saucer - while Carswell took a call. When the call was finished, Carswell lifted his own cup, held it to his lips and blew.
'Bit of a mess at St Leonard's, Derek.'
'Yes, sir.'
'I told Watson to his face, if he's got no control over his officers...'
'With respect, sir, a case like this one, tempers are bound to flare.'
Carswell nodded. 'I admire you for that, Derek.'
'Sir?'
'You're not the kind to drop fellow officers in the soup, even when they're at fault.'
'I'm sure I was partly to blame, sir. Nobody likes it when someone comes into an inquiry from outside.'
'So you become the scapegoat?'
'Not exactly, sir.' Linford was looking at his cup. Small blobs of oil dotted the surface. He wasn't sure if the tea, the water or the milk was to blame.
'We could transfer the investigation here,' Carswell was saying. 'Lock, stock and barrel if need be. Use Crime Squad officers to--'
'With respect, sir, it's late on in the investigation to start over from scratch. We'd lose a lot of time.' He paused. 'And it would send the budget rocketing.'
Carswell was known to like a nice, tidy budget. He frowned, took a sip from his cup. 'Don't want that,' he said. 'Not if we can help it.' He stared across the desk at Linford. 'You want to stay put, that's what you're telling me?'
'I think I can win them over, sir.'
'Well, you're braver than most, Derek.'
'Most of the team are absolutely fine,' Linford went on. 'It's just a couple...' He broke off, lifted his cup again.
Carswell looked at the notes he'd made for himself back in St Leonard's. 'Would that be DI Rebus and DC Clarke, by any chance?'
Linford said nothing; made sure his eyes didn't meet CarsweH's.
'No one's irreplaceable, Derek,' the ACC said quietly. Believe me, no one.'
'It's deja vu all over again,' Wylie said, as she and Hood inspected the contents. The concrete store was full almost to its roof. Desks, tables, chairs, rugs. Cardboard boxes, framed prints, a stereo system.
'This'll take days,' Hood complained. And with no Mrs Coghill to make coffee, no inviting kitchen. Just this bleak wasteland, the wind forcing tears from his eyes, rain threatening.
'Nonsense,' Rebus said. 'We're looking for paperwork. All the big items, we just put to one side. The interesting-looking stuff goes into the back of the car. We'll work shifts of two.'
Wylie looked at him. 'Meaning?'
'Meaning two clearing out the junk, and two sorting through all the papers. We'll take the stuff back to St Leonard's.'
'Fettes is closer,' Wylie reminded him.
He nodded. But Fettes was Linford's home turf. It was as though Siobhan could read his mind.
'That's even closer,' she said, nodding towards the glorified Portakabin which acted as Gerry Reagan's office.
Rebus nodded. 'I'll go square it with him.'
Grant Hood carried a portable TV out of the garage and placed it on the ground. 'Ask him if he's got a tarp, too.' He looked up. 'Rain's not far off.'
Half an hour later, the first showers blew in off the Forth, jabbing their faces and hands with needles of cold, and bringing a thick haar which seemed to cut them off from the world. Reagan had provided a large sheet of thick translucent polythene, which was going to blow-away given half a chance. They'd fixed down three of its corners with bricks, leaving one open, flapping entrance. Then Reagan had a better idea: the garage two along was currently out of use. So the three of them - Hood, Wylie and Siobhan Clarke - carried the goods along to this new site while Reagan attempted to fold up his polythene sheet.
'What's the boss up to?' Hood asked Reagan.
Slitting his eyes against the rain, Reagan peered back towards his office, its lit windows like beacons of warmth and shelter against the darkening afternoon. 'Setting up the command post, that's what he told me.'
Hood and Wylie exchanged a look. 'And did that involve a kettle and a seat by the heater?' Wylie asked.
Reagan laughed.
'He said shifts,' Siobhan reminded them. 'You'll get your turn.' All the same, she wished they'd find some files or something, so she, too, would have an excuse to visit the Portakabin.
'I knock off at five,' Reagan said. 'No point staying here in the dark.'
'Any lamps we could use?' Siobhan asked. Wylie and Hood looked disappointed: a five o'clock homer sounded good to them. Reagan was looking doubtful, but for different reasons.
'We'd lock up after us,' Siobhan reassured him. 'Set the alarms or whatever.'
'I'm not sure my insurance company would be happy.'
'When are they ever?'
He laughed again, rubbed his head. 'I could stick around till six, I suppose.'
She nodded. 'Six it is then.'
Soon afterwards, they started finding the box-files. Reagan had produced a wheelbarrow, with the folded-up sheet of polythene covering its base. They loaded the files into the barrow, and Siobhan wheeled it towards the office. She pushed open the door and saw that Rebus was just finishing clearing one of the room's two desks. He'd piled all the stuff on the floor in a corner.
'Reagan said we could use this one,' he told her. He pointed to a door. 'There's a chemical toilet through there. Plus sink and kettle. Boil the water before you drink it.' She noticed there was a mug of coffee on the chair by Rebus.
'I think we could all do with a cup,' she said. She found a socket and plugged in her mobile phone, letting it charge while she filled the kettle and switched it on. Rebus went outside and started bringing the box-files in.
'It's getting pretty dark,' she said.
'How are you coping?'
'There's a light inside the garage. That's pretty much it. Mr Reagan says he can stay till six.'
Rebus checked his watch. 'So be it.'
'Just one thing,' she reminded him, 'this is the Grieve case we're working on now, right?'
He looked at her. 'We can probably swing overtime, if that's what you're thinking.'
'Might help pay for the Christmas shopping... if I ever get time to do any.'
'Christmas?'
'You know, festive time of year, coming up fast.'
He looked at her. 'You can just switch off like that?'
'I don't think you have to be obsessed to make a good detective.'
