Rebus talked right across the pair of them. 'See, the body went into the fireplace same time your boy Barry was there, same time you were finding out that Hastings and Grieve had ripped you off. So my question to you, Mr Callan, is: whose body is it? And why did you have him killed?'
Silence, and then the explosion: Callan screaming: Milligan threatening.
'You lousy conniving--'
'Must strongly object to the--'
'Come on the phone with a load of shit about four hundred grand--'
'Unwarranted attack on someone with no criminal record m this or any other country, a man whose reputation--'
'I swear to God, if I was there you'd need to slap me in chains to stop me smacking you one!'
'I'm waiting,' Rebus said, 'any time you want to hop on a plane.'
'Just you watch me.'
Milligan: 'Now, Bryce, don't let this appalling situation goad you into... Isn't there a senior officer present?' Milligan checked his notes. 'Chief Superintendent Watson, isn't it? Chief Superintendent, I must protest in the strongest terms about these underhand tactics, entrapping my client with tales of an unclaimed fortune 'The story's true,' Watson said into the speaker phone. 'The money's here. But it seems to be part of a wider mystery, and one which Mr Callan could help clear up by flying back here for a proper interview.'
'Any recording made today is, of course, inadmissible in a court of law,' Milligan said.
'Really? Well,' the Farmer said, 'I leave questions like that to the Fiscal's office. Meantime, am I right in thinking that your client has yet to deny anything?'
Callan: 'Deny? What do I need to deny? You can't touch me, you bastards!'
Rebus imagined him on his feet, face turned a colour no hours of tanning would ever match, gripping the receiver in his fist, strangling the tormentor it had become.
'You admit it then?' Watson asked, his voice all naive sincerity. He winked towards the doorway as he spoke. If Rebus didn't know better, he'd say the man was beginning to enjoy himself.
'Piss off!' Callan growled.
'I think you can take that as a denial,' Milligan said tonelessly.
'I think you're probably right,' Watson agreed.
'Away to hell, the lot of you!' Callan yelled. There was a click on the line.
'I think Mr Callan has left us,' Rebus said. 'Are you still there, Mr Milligan?'
'I'm here, and I really do feel the need to protest in the strongest--'
Rebus cut the connection. 'I think we just lost him,' he told the room. There were whoops from the doorway. Rebus got up. Watson reclaimed his chair.
'Let's not get too carried away,' he said as Rebus switched off the tape-recorder. 'Pieces are beginning to fit. but we still don't know who did the killing, or even who was killed. Without those two pieces, all the fun we've just had with Bryce Callan counts for nothing.'
'All the same, sir...' Grant Hood was grinning.
Watson nodded. 'All the same, DI Rebus showed us the way to that man's black heart.' He looked at Rebus, who was shaking his head.
'I didn't get enough.' He hit the rewind button. 'I'm not sure I got anything.'
'We know what we're dealing with, and that's half the battle,' Wylie said.
'We should bring in Hutton,' Siobhan Clarke added. 'It seems to revolve around him, and at least he's here.'
'All he has to do is deny it,' Watson reminded her. 'He's not a man without influence. Drag him in here, it would reflect badly on us.'
'Can't have that,' Clarke grumbled.
Rebus looked to his boss. 'Sir, it's my shout. Any chance you can join us?'
The Farmer glanced at his watch. 'Just the one then.' he said. 'And a packet of mints for the car home - my wife can smell alcohol on my breath at twenty paces.'
Rebus brought the drinks to the table, Hood helping. Wylie just wanted cola from the gun. Hood himself was on a pint of Eighty. For Rebus: a half and a 'hauf'. A single malt for the Farmer, and red wine for Siobhan Clarke. They toasted each other.
'To teamwork,' Wylie said.
The Farmer cleared his throat. 'Speaking of which, shouldn't Derek be here?'
Rebus filled the silence. 'DI Iinford is following up a line of inquiry of his own: a description of Grieve's possible murderer.'
The Chief Super met his eyes. 'Teamwork should mean just that.'
'You don't have to tell me, sir,' Rebus said. 'I'm usually the one out in the cold.'
'Because that's where you've wanted to be,' the Chief Super reminded him. 'Not because we wouldn't let you in.'
'Point taken, sir,' Rebus said quietly.
Clarke put down her glass. 'It's my fault really, sir, blowing up the way I did. I think John just thought there'd be less tension if DI Linford was kept at a distance.'
'I know that, Siobhan,' Watson said. 'But I also want Derek appraised of what's been going on.'
'I'll talk to him, sir,' Rebus said.
'Good.' They sat in silence for a minute. 'Sorry if I put a damper on things,' the Farmer said at last. Then he drained his glass and said he'd better be off. 'Just get my round in first.' They assured him he didn't need to, that it wasn't expected, but he got the round in anyway. When he'd gone, they could feel themselves relax. Maybe it was the alcohol.
Maybe.
Hood brought draughts over from the bar, and commenced a game against Clarke. Rebus said he never played.
'I'm a bad loser, that's my problem.'
'What I hate is a bad winner,' Clarke said, 'the kind that rubs your nose in it.'
'Don't worry,' Hood said, 'I'll be gentle with you.'
The lad was definitely coming out of himself, Rebus thought. Then he watched as Siobhan Clarke took her opponent apart, getting a crown while her own top row was still covered.
'This is brutal,' Wylie said, comforting Hood by ruffling his hair. When a second game was set up, Wylie and Hood swapped places. Hood sat across from Rebus now. and drained his first pint, replacing it with the one the Chief Super had bought.
'Cheers,' he said, taking a sip. Rebus raised his glass to him. 'I can't drink whisky,' Hood confided. 'Gives me blazing hangovers.'
'Me, too, sometimes.'
'Then why do you drink it?'
'The pleasure before the pain: it's a Calvinist thing.' Hood looked at him blankly. 'Never mind,' Rebus told him.
'He had it all wrong, you know,' Siobhan Clarke said, as Wylie concentrated on her next move.
'Who did?'
'Callan. Using a front company so the plans stood a better chance of going through. There was an easier route.'
Wylie glanced over towards the men. 'Wonder if she's going to tell us?'
'I think she wants us to guess first,' Rebus said.
Wylie jumped one of Clarke's draughts; Clarke retaliated. 'Simple really,' she said. 'Why not just pay off the planners?'
'Bribe the council?' Hood smiled at the thought.
'Bloody hell,' Rebus said, staring into his drink. 'Maybe that's it A comment he refused to explain, even when they threatened to make him play draughts.
'I'll never crack,' he said, making light of it. But inside, his mind was buzzing with new possibilities and permutations, some of them including Cafferty's face. He sat there wondering what the hell he could do about
