Saints of the Shadow Bible

‘But you above all,’ Fox felt the need to clarify. ‘Saunders was your snitch and I reckon you’re the one who got him off. Whether you had any help is neither here nor there.’

‘Douglas Merchant was a scumbag who got what was coming to him. We should be looking at a commendation rather than a jail sentence.’

‘Keep telling yourself that,’ Fox advised. ‘The more often you and your pal Paterson say it, the less convinced you sound.’

‘Are we about done here? Because I’m hearing nothing that’s going to cause me even a sleepless five minutes. Billy Saunders can tell any story he wants; it’s going to be his word against Summerhall CID. Hearsay’s all you’re ever going to have.’ Gilmour jutted out his chin, almost toe to toe with Fox. Fox was opening his mouth, readying a response, when the lift doors shuddered open.

‘You here yet, Big Boy?’ A woman’s sing-song voice. ‘Reception told me to come up and wait. .’ She walked into the room and came to a stop, lips opening into an O.

‘Your next appointment?’ Fox pretended to guess, eyes on Gilmour.

‘I think you should leave,’ Gilmour said, his words edged with frost.

The woman was young — mid twenties maybe. Dyed red hair and a short coat below which was a presumably shorter dress. Rebus thought he recognised her from one of the photos in the lobby. She’d had a footballer’s arm draped around her. Perfume was filling the room, replacing the oxygen.

‘We’re going,’ Rebus stated, making his way towards the hall. Gilmour was avoiding eye contact, but that was just fine. Maybe there was some parting shot from Fox, but if so Rebus didn’t hear it. The two men stood together as the lift doors closed and they began their descent. Nothing was said until Rebus paused by the display from the party, checking that he was right about the visitor.

‘Cheating on a woman like that,’ Fox commented, shaking his head as he pressed the tip of a finger to Gilmour’s girlfriend’s face.

Up in the penthouse, there was a call on Gilmour’s phone. He was going to ignore it until he checked the name on the screen.

‘Back in a minute,’ he barked to his visitor, retreating to the bathroom and closing the door. ‘Long time no hear.’

‘Took you long enough to pick up.’

‘I’m rushed off my feet. What can I do for you?’

‘I’m after a favour. Do you still know anyone on the force in Edinburgh?’

‘I might.’

‘Only a friendly face wouldn’t hurt.’

‘What’s this about, Owen?’

‘I want to know what really happened the night Jessica had her smash.’

‘Enlighten me.’

‘My daughter, Stefan. Her car went off the road and the cops seem to think her boyfriend was behind the wheel. Next thing, his dad’s attacked in his home and they pull me in.’

‘The dad in question being Pat McCuskey?’

‘I just need someone who can keep me in the picture.’

‘Best guy I can think of is called John Rebus.’

‘Anyone but that bastard!’ Traynor snarled.

‘You’ve met him, then?’

‘Enough to know I want to smack his face. So can you help me out?’

‘I’m not sure.’

‘You were a prick back in the day, Stefan, and you’re still being a prick.’

‘I suppose I can ask around, maybe pull some strings.’

‘Try not to sound too thrilled about it. And call me when you get news.’

The phone went dead and Gilmour stared at it. ‘Don’t bother thanking me,’ he scolded it. He could hear his visitor putting on some music in the living room. Instead of joining her, he locked the bathroom door and settled himself on the toilet pan, head in hands, wondering what to do about Billy Saunders.

When Rebus’s phone rang that evening, he knew who it would be. He could still feel the steak pie like a solid weight in his stomach, so had decided on a liquid dinner of a couple of bottles of IPA. He was starting the second of them as he answered.

‘I want to apologise,’ Stefan Gilmour said.

‘For what?’

‘It isn’t what you think, John.’

‘Does she qualify as one of those WAGs I read about in the redtops?’

‘She’s got a knack for getting herself on guest lists.’

‘Your secret’s safe with me.’

There was silence on the line.

‘I mean it,’ Rebus said. ‘On the other hand, I can’t vouch for Fox.’

He listened as Gilmour drew in breath through his teeth. ‘I need to know whose side you’re on, John.’

‘Aye, it seems to be a popular question these days.’

‘I can’t believe you’d want a piece of pond life like Fox cutting me off at the knees.’ Statement rather than question.

‘A bit of trust might help,’ Rebus retorted. ‘So how about you telling me what sort of hold Saunders had over you? See, my guess is that’s why you were phoning him — maybe to tell him it was no longer relevant, or that you had something on him.’

‘There was never any “hold”, John.’

‘I think you’re lying.’

‘Then there’s not much more to say.’ Gilmour paused. ‘And probably no point me asking you to intercede with your new friend Fox?’

‘You mean ask him to forget about the WAG?’

‘It would be worth a case or two of malt — you still like a whisky now and then, don’t you?’

‘You can’t buy everybody, Stefan. And if you considered me a pal, you wouldn’t even feel the need to try. .’

‘Fair enough.’ Gilmour sounded beaten. ‘I just think it’s crazy to waste time and money on a case that’s going to go nowhere. And even if it did go to trial, all it would do is fluff up Elinor Macari’s feathers. Because this is one big ego trip for her — her way of telling the world she was right to bring in the double jeopardy clause. Nothing to do with justice, John — we’re just the same pawns we always were.’

‘You’re not exactly a pawn these days, Stefan.’

‘But she wants to make me one. Know why? Because of the No campaign. She’s an SNP appointment and a lifelong supporter. And suddenly she has the chance to chuck a couple of darts at the No campaign’s public face.’

‘You, in other words?’

‘Of course!’

‘Have you been asked to comment on Pat McCuskey?’

Gilmour seemed disconcerted by the change of tack. ‘Yes,’ he eventually conceded.

‘You must have sparred with him a bit?’

‘All the time. Lovely guy, though. Once we’d finished the public debate, he was always game for a private drink and a bit of a laugh.’

‘Sounds like you knew him pretty well. The family too?’

‘Family were kept out of it.’ Gilmour paused. ‘I did meet Bethany a couple of times.’

‘Have you sent your condolences?’

‘Of course. My point is — that’s what the police should be focusing resources on, not the likes of Billy Saunders.’

‘Can you think of a reason why anyone would want to attack Pat McCuskey?’ Rebus asked.

‘It was a housebreaking, wasn’t it?’