been abandoned.

‘Key left in the ignition,’ Fox explained as they parked next to the spot. ‘Lucky the local kids didn’t decide to take it for a spin.’

‘Why didn’t they?’

Fox just shrugged. ‘Anyway, the owner of the minicab company sent someone this morning to rescue it.’

‘Meaning any evidence will have been contaminated,’ Rebus commented.

‘Evidence?’

‘It’s the stuff we collect to make a case that can go to trial.’

Fox glared at him. ‘You think something could have happened to Saunders?’

‘Not really.’

‘But there’s a chance?’

‘If someone’s going to do a runner, they’d normally head for a train or bus station. Saunders didn’t do that. He left his car in the back of beyond.’

‘To throw us off his scent?’

‘Or it could be he’s got a pal nearby who could fix him up.’ Rebus narrowed his eyes against the smoke from his cigarette.

‘So we talk to family and friends?’

‘And his boss — see what else he might know about the booking from the Gimlet.’

‘And the Gimlet itself — someone there is bound to know who the pick-up was for.’

‘Getting them to tell us might be the problem. It’s not exactly G and Ts and cashmere jumpers in there.’

‘But you’re a known face?’

‘Doesn’t make me a liked face.’

‘Then maybe I should do the talking.’

‘That I’d like to see.’

‘My pleasure,’ Malcolm Fox said, doing everything but puffing out his chest.

But first they visited Billy Saunders’s home, an unassuming mid-terrace pebble-dash in Blackhall. Saunders was still married to Bettina, the woman Douglas Merchant had been killed over.

‘Best if you don’t introduce me,’ Rebus told Fox.

‘In case he’s mentioned you to her?’

Rebus nodded.

The woman was at home, but showed no great enthusiasm to see them. They stood in the living room, since every chair was covered in cats or laundry, including some with cats on top. She was sure Billy would turn up. Reckoned he was just sickened with working nights. He’d be sleeping it off somewhere.

Did he have friends in Niddrie?

He did not.

And things were okay at home?

If they were asking about other women, who would be daft enough?

She knew that a case against Billy was being prepared? Had he seemed worried about that?

Wouldn’t they be?

Any addresses where they might try looking for him? And a copy of his latest mobile bill. .

They didn’t ask for much, did they?

Then Rebus cleared his throat and asked her about Douglas Merchant.

‘What about him?’

‘Billy’s supposed to have done him in for sleeping with you.’

Bettina Saunders gave a pig-like snort. ‘That was a lot of pish — some rumour got started and Billy saw red.’

‘He did kill Merchant, then?’ Fox interrupted.

‘I’m not saying that.’ She glowered at him. ‘Billy might get angry, but he wouldn’t hurt anyone — that’s why the trial collapsed in the first place. Wrong man was in the dock.’

‘Yet he admitted his guilt to a cellmate.’

‘Men in jail say all sorts, don’t they? You let the story get round that you’ve done someone in, you get less grief from the other cons.’

‘You seem to know all about it.’

‘Years of my life spent visiting him inside.’

‘If and when he gets in touch, you’ll let us know?’

‘You’re right at the top of my list.’

‘I’m not entirely sure I believe that.’ But Fox thanked her anyway.

Similar line of questioning at the minicab office. The Ford was parked down the lane, so they were even able to give it the onceover. No signs of damage; nothing to indicate any sort of struggle.

‘My way of thinking,’ Saunders’s boss said, folding his bare meaty arms across his chest, ‘is that the punter hasn’t any cash, so takes off. Billy goes after him — and that’s when something happens. Not the fittest of guys, so he could have keeled over somewhere. Alternatively, he ends up being led into an ambush.’ He shrugged his shoulders as if such eventualities were written into the job description.

Back in the Saab, Fox asked Rebus if it was time for them to try the Gimlet.

‘I think you’re ready,’ Rebus said, starting the engine. ‘Place used to be under the ownership of a thug called Frank Hammell. Good spot to visit if you were in the market for a stolen telly or hi-fi.’

‘Where’s Hammell these days?’

‘Out of the game.’

‘You make it sound like a decision taken out of his hands.’

‘You might say that. .’

When they reached their destination, Fox walked in ahead of Rebus. Rebus placed a hand on his arm.

‘Slight change of plan — maybe let me do the talking to start with.’

He had already been recognised — not by the tattooed barwoman but by the young, well-dressed man seated on a stool, who broke off his conversation with her as Rebus walked in.

‘Darryl Christie,’ Rebus said.

‘Mr Rebus.’ Christie didn’t budge from the stool. He looked Rebus up and down. ‘Something I can do for you?’

Rebus ignored the question and turned towards Fox. ‘This young streak of piss is the reason Frank Hammell gave up this place, and plenty of others like it. I know what you’re thinking — he can’t be long out of school — but don’t let that fool you.’

As if to reinforce the point, Christie rubbed his hand along the acne on his jawline, offering a grin which still seemed to contain some milk teeth. Rebus was searching the room for muscle.

‘Not got your boys with you?’ he asked. ‘Unless the old lad in the corner with the tot of rum is a master of disguise.’

‘City’s nice and calm, Mr Rebus. And personnel come expensive.’

‘Did you happen to be here last night, Mr Christie?’ Fox interrupted. ‘Around eight forty-five one of your clients rang for a cab. We’re trying to trace the driver.’

‘Ask Lavinia here,’ Christie advised, indicating the barwoman.

‘I’m only on days,’ she corrected him.

‘So you are.’ Christie tutted at his mistake. ‘It would have been Colin or Johnny.’

‘Plus someone manning the door?’ Rebus asked.

Christie thought for a moment. ‘That would have been Deano. You’re thinking he would have clocked the cab? What’s the story with the driver anyway?’

‘Not your concern, Mr Christie,’ Fox said, sounding apologetic.

‘I like you,’ Christie told him. ‘You’ve got the right attitude — probably means you’ve not been chumming Rebus long. And because you’ve made an impression. .’ Christie took out his phone and made three calls: both barmen, plus the bouncer. He drew a blank.

Вы читаете Saints of the Shadow Bible
Добавить отзыв
ВСЕ ОТЗЫВЫ О КНИГЕ В ИЗБРАННОЕ

0

Вы можете отметить интересные вам фрагменты текста, которые будут доступны по уникальной ссылке в адресной строке браузера.

Отметить Добавить цитату