Saints of the Shadow Bible

She was dressed in black, and wore sunglasses which obscured half her face.

‘Only that you’re making a mistake, John. Sounds very much as if you’ve decided you’re not part of the Saints any more.’

‘Let me tell you something, Stefan. I spoke to Porkbelly and he was all for letting Frazer take the rap for that gun, same as you just did. Seems to me you’ll shit on anyone to save your own necks.’

‘Maybe you think you’re clean, but you’re not,’ Gilmour retorted. ‘You knew we hung on to that gun — why didn’t you take it to the bosses at the time? Remember Interview Room B, that time I walked in and you had your hands around a suspect’s throat? I forget the name now, but it’ll come back to me if necessary. The drugs we planted on that barman we didn’t like? The prossies we let off after an hour in the holding cell, once they’d slipped us a few quid or a promise? The restaurant tabs that never arrived at the end of a meal? Two hundred cigarettes here, a case of malt there. . The stories we could tell, eh?’

Gilmour’s eyes were boring into Rebus’s.

‘I took the fall, John,’ he went on. ‘And I did it for all of us. Remember that, when you’ve got the tin-opener poised above the can marked “worms”.’

He started walking towards the chapel, manoeuvring his way delicately but determinedly through the throng. Finding himself in front of Forbes McCuskey, he shook the young man’s hand and said a few words. McCuskey turned his head and seemed to recognise Rebus. But by then Gilmour was working the crowd, knowing which flesh deserved to be pressed. A pat on the shoulder from the First Minister, even though they were adversaries. A slight bow of the head from the Lord Provost. A warm smile from the outgoing Chief Constable. And then everyone was heading indoors, organ music beginning to emerge from the PA. Rebus backed away towards the memorial garden and lit a cigarette. He spotted a pair of crutches amongst the mourners. Jessica Traynor was making for the chapel, with the help of Alice Bell. Neither of them noticed Rebus, but when they reached Forbes McCuskey, Jessica burst into tears, resting her head on his shoulder. Her boyfriend ran a hand through her hair, and seemed to mouth a few words, words very like ‘Don’t worry.’

Don’t worry.

And with his eyes focused not on Jessica Traynor but Alice Bell.

Rebus arrived at Wester Hailes police station to find that they’d just brought in Deano. He was being taken from reception to the interview room.

‘Thanks for nothing,’ he spat, seeing Rebus.

‘Just say your piece and don’t worry about anything,’ Rebus advised.

He showed his ID to the desk and asked for directions to the Major Incident Team.

‘Whole station’s the Major Incident Team,’ came the terse reply.

He poked his head around the doors of a couple of rooms before finding what he was looking for — the Summerhall boxes. They were on a desk in a small office. One of the boxes was open, and Rebus reckoned it was the one he wanted. The custody ledger sat open at the same torn page, other paperwork piled atop it. Rebus closed the door quietly, so he would have some privacy. Then he got to work.

After only a few minutes the door swung open and Malcolm Fox stood there, transfixed.

‘Couldn’t keep away?’ he eventually commented.

‘Just something I need to check.’

‘Without anyone knowing?’

Rebus stopped reading and looked up. ‘Siobhan says you might be okay. I’m going to see if she’s right.’

‘By taking me into your confidence?’

‘Slippery Phil Kennedy,’ Rebus stated.

Fox’s eyes narrowed. ‘That name’s in the Summerhall records.’

‘Vicious wee bugger we never quite managed to put away. Charged and taken to trial, but the jury couldn’t be convinced.’

‘Not proven?’ Fox guessed.

‘Which pissed some of us off mightily.’

‘Stefan Gilmour?’

Rebus nodded. ‘Week before Douglas Merchant was killed, Kennedy took a tumble down the stairs at home.’

‘Natural causes, then?’

‘Our old friend Professor Cuttle performed the autopsy.’ Rebus broke off, remembering his conversation. ‘Or rather, he helped out. It was Professor Donner who did the slicing. .’ He broke off again. Something Cuttle had said? Or hadn’t said?

I was on hand for corroboration. .

Fumes from his stomach had us reeling. .

‘I went back to see Cuttle,’ Rebus admitted. ‘To ask him about the autopsy. I’m not sure now I got everything out of him that I could have.’

‘Want a return bout? With me in the corner?’

‘Fixing my cuts?’ Rebus said with a smile, playing along. ‘You sure Siobhan can spare you?’

‘She’s busy with Dean Grant.’

‘That’s Deano’s real name? I never thought to ask.’

Fox raised an eyebrow. ‘You’re the one who got him to talk?’

‘I have my uses.’

‘So it would seem.’

‘But for what it’s worth, I don’t think he had anything to do with Billy Saunders’s vanishing act.’

‘Which means we’re stuck with the double jeopardy inquiry as the main suspect.’

‘And the Summerhall connection,’ Rebus added. ‘That what you’re doing here?’ He patted the paperwork on the desk. ‘Still looking for the elusive golden thread?’

‘Cotton would do just as well,’ Fox replied. ‘So do we go talk to Cuttle or what?’

‘I suppose we could,’ Rebus said.

They took Rebus’s Saab. Exiting the high-fenced car park, Rebus warned Fox that the nursing-home staff reckoned the pair of them had nearly given Cuttle pneumonia.

‘Was it our idea to talk in the garden?’ Fox asked.

‘I think it was his. Can’t say I blame him — cooped up in that place all day and night. .’

‘My father’s in a place not unlike it,’ Fox admitted.

Rebus glanced towards him. ‘I don’t think I knew that.’

‘No reason why you should.’

‘Is he still compos mentis?’

‘Enough that he can have regular digs at me for wasting my life. Are either of your parents still with us?’

Rebus shook his head. ‘Long gone,’ he stated. ‘And my brother with them.’

‘I’ve got a sister, Jude. We don’t really get on. .’

‘I was like that with my brother. Believe it or not, he was the black sheep of the family — got in a bit of trouble, served some time.’

‘I know — it’s in your files.’

‘I keep forgetting you worked for the dark side.’ Rebus shifted into fourth, the high-rises of Dumbryden shrinking in his rear-view mirror.

‘Did Siobhan really say she trusted me?’ Fox asked.

‘She said you might be all right.’

‘Well I suppose I’ll settle for that. She’s good at her job, isn’t she?’

‘Despite my best efforts, you mean?’

‘Maybe,’ Fox replied with a smile. ‘But it means she’ll probably get to the truth of the shooting. And that might prove distinctly uncomfortable. .’

‘I saw Stefan Gilmour at the Justice Minister’s funeral this morning — he’s adamant he didn’t do it.’

‘Someone did, though. And Saunders had been running scared.’

‘How likely is it he could have been traced? Sleeping rough the way he was?’

‘Meaning what?’