‘And you too, maybe.’
Rebus nodded. ‘So what now?’
‘Our first interview needs to be sent for transcribing. I’ll leave that to you, if you don’t mind — I’m meeting Elinor Macari at the top of the hour.’
‘To hear what else Billy Saunders has been saying?’
‘That’s right.’
‘So do you want me to lock up?’
Fox studied Rebus, then shook his head.
‘Still don’t trust me?’ Rebus tried to sound hurt.
Fox didn’t answer. He placed a thick file in his briefcase, where it joined his notepad. ‘It’s good you finally got rid of that lipstick,’ he said, closing the clasps.
10
Some of the same faces Clarke had seen outside the McCuskeys’ home were now huddled on the narrow pavement on Torphichen Place. Cars and vans parked illegally were being ticketed by wardens, but without the owners seeming to mind. Those same vehicles had narrowed the road from three lanes to one, and traffic was backed up, giving drivers plenty of time to stare at the media circus.
Once inside the police station, having ignored all the questions yelled in her direction, Clarke showed her ID and was buzzed through a locked door into the body of the building. Every bit of space on the first floor seemed to be in the process of being taken over by the Major Incident Team — desks moved, extra chairs sought, communications established. Clarke squeezed her way through the melee until she reached its still centre and introduced herself to DCI Ralph. He was over six feet tall, his dark hair parted in the centre, and sporting a neatly trimmed beard. He didn’t bother with a handshake or words of welcome, telling her instead that there would be a briefing in ten minutes’ time and she should make herself useful until then.
‘Olivia will show you the ropes,’ he explained, nodding towards a young woman who was carrying a computer printer past him.
‘Olivia Webster,’ the officer said by way of introduction, as Clarke followed her. ‘I’m a DC.’
‘I’m DI Clarke.’
‘Siobhan Clarke — I know who you are.’
‘Have we met before?’
Webster shook her head. She had long brown hair and grey eyes, her skin pale. ‘I’ve just heard you mentioned.’ She placed the printer on one of the desks, next to a monitor. ‘I’ve only been here six weeks — transferred from Dundee.’ She stared at the set-up on the desk.
‘Keyboard?’ Clarke suggested.
Webster smiled. ‘Knew something wasn’t quite right.’ She scanned the room. ‘Must be one around here somewhere. .’ Then she was off again, leaving Clarke without any sense of what she could or should be doing. She peered from a window until the press pack below noticed her and started waving.
‘Not much room here for media conferences.’ DCI Ralph was standing next to her. ‘We’re using the hotel on the corner instead.’
‘Good thinking.’
He studied her. ‘You were at the scene soon after Mr McCuskey was found.’ Statement rather than question. ‘That’s why I want you focusing on the break-in itself — the nuts and bolts, if you like.’
Clarke nodded her acceptance. ‘There’s already an officer working on the stolen goods — putting word out.’
‘Good.’
‘Maybe we could bring him in?’
‘As part of the team, you mean?’ He wafted a hand in the general direction of the chaos behind him. ‘You think we’re short-staffed?’
‘Just seems rational, since he’s been involved in the preliminary investigation.’
‘This wouldn’t be your old friend, would it? The infamous John Rebus?’
‘John not only has contacts, he was also with me when we attended the scene of a crash not far from the McCuskey home. The young woman pulled from the wreckage happens to be Forbes McCuskey’s girlfriend. We’re not sure she was alone in the car at the time.’
Ralph grew thoughtful. ‘That’s quite the coincidence.’
‘Our thinking exactly. Again, if DS Rebus is brought in, he’s already done a lot of the groundwork. .’
‘Let me think about it, once I’ve got the pep talk out of the way.’ He glanced at his watch, then concentrated on the movement in the room, seeming pleased with the progress. Olivia Webster had located a grubby-looking keyboard and was plugging it in. Another officer, having wiped clean a large whiteboard, was attaching photos of the crime scene to it. McCuskey had been moved before any pictures could be taken of him, but there was a typed description of how he had been found on the sitting room floor, face down and with his legs at an awkward angle. There was a close-up of the smashed patio door, and another of the ransacked bedroom. Two bedrooms, in fact. Clarke walked over and studied the photograph of what had to be the son’s old room — she hadn’t checked it at the time, and chided herself now. There were band posters on its walls, shelves of novels, a double bed with a bright red duvet. The duvet had been thrown to the floor, some of the books scattered, one poster torn in half. Drawers sat half open. Yet there had been nothing in the room worth taking. Was this evidence of anger? As if Forbes McCuskey were as much of a target as his parents? Clarke thought back to Owen Traynor again. Did they need to bring him in for a more formal chat?
DCI Ralph was clapping his hands, calling out for everyone to stop what they were doing. All eyes turned towards him. Officers filed in from the corridor and the other rooms off. Clarke found herself with her back pressed against the whiteboard, unable to see anything except the very top of Nick Ralph’s head. Around her, phones were pinging and vibrating.
‘Maybe we could have those off,’ Ralph ordered.
She slid her own from her pocket. She had a message from Malcolm Fox, but she could read it later. For now, she powered down the phone and concentrated on the job at hand.
‘Let’s begin,’ Nick Ralph said.
Early evening, Rebus left his tenement flat and headed for a shop on Marchmont Road where he could buy cigarettes and bacon. He was almost at the top of Arden Street when he spotted Forbes McCuskey on the other side of the road. McCuskey had recognised him. He stood there for a moment, then strode towards Rebus.
‘You following me? Stalking me?’
‘Just passing,’ Rebus said, reluctant to let him know they lived on the same street.
‘I could call this harassment.’
‘It’s not. Sorry to hear about your dad, by the way.’
The young man’s anger abated a little, good manners taking over. ‘Thanks,’ he said.
‘We’ll be doing everything we can to find his attacker.’
Forbes McCuskey nodded distractedly. Now that he had confronted the detective, he seemed not to know what to do next.
‘Including interviewing Jessica’s father,’ Rebus continued matter-of-factly.
‘What for?’
‘Because his daughter had just been in a car smash and he wasn’t convinced it was her fault. Because, historically, he has a temper on him.’
‘So he attacks
‘Only when he fails to find
McCuskey started to shake his head, but then stopped. ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I suppose you have to explore all the avenues. .’
‘You can be sure we’ll do that.’ Rebus gestured towards McCuskey’s building. ‘I’d have thought your mum might be needing you.’
