Saints of the Shadow Bible

‘He’s paid to deal with trouble, not make it.’

‘Pretty much chimes with the story we got — he didn’t see anything. A bit hard for us to believe, him being on the door and everything, so we had to push that bit further.’ Rebus gauged Christie’s reaction to this. If he accepted it, Dean would stay in a job and might end up convinced he owed Rebus a favour at some point in the future. The Range Rover had reached the traffic lights at Buccleuch Street. Christie signalled right, then right again. They were making a circuit. Once the speed bumps on narrow Melville Terrace had been negotiated, they’d more or less be back where they’d started. Waiting for traffic to clear, Rebus couldn’t help looking towards the site of Summerhall police station. Here he was, thirty years down the line, still sharing oxygen with villains. But Darryl Christie seemed to represent change. He was young and hungry, yes, and venal too, but he was also clever — not just street-smart but calculating and astute. Having no weight of his own to throw around, he had found other avenues to success.

‘The thing is,’ Christie was saying now, ‘CID interest is bad for business, and business being what it is right now. .’

‘Don’t tell me the downturn’s hurting you?’

‘Economy’s tough for all of us, Mr Rebus. There’s a lot of competition out there, and when markets contract you try to find new ones, even if that means encroaching.’

‘Turf wars? Are you being squeezed?’

‘Maybe not quite yet.’

‘But you can feel it coming?’ Rebus watched as Darryl Christie nodded slowly. ‘There was a car crash just over a week back, out by Kirkliston. Mid evening. We’ve got a few theories.’

‘Yes?’

‘One is boy racers.’

‘And the other?’

‘The driver was doing small-time deals right here in Edinburgh. He had a local supplier, but I’m thinking maybe he got greedy or wanted to move up the food chain.’

‘Was he anywhere near Livingston?’

Rebus stared at the side of Christie’s head. ‘It’s possible.’

‘Only there’s someone out that way. . Not originally; originally he was Glasgow, but he couldn’t hack it there — if you’ll pardon the expression. He moved out to Ayrshire, Lanarkshire. .’

‘And now Livingston? Very much your neck of the woods, Darryl.’

‘Some people think competition can be healthy.’ Christie was keeping his eyes on the road, when they weren’t checking the rearview mirror. Each turn he made, he signalled first, always stopping at Give Ways. Rebus had thought Fox a cautious driver, but this was something else again.

‘He’s selling drugs?’ he asked.

‘Just starting to, I think. You’d be doing me a favour if you took him out of the game for a while.’ Christie allowed himself a thin smile. ‘Name’s Rory Bell.’

‘I’m a bit busy right now to be doing favours for gangsters.’

‘Then you’re probably not much use to me.’ As Christie signalled to pull to a stop at the foot of Arden Street, he turned his face towards Rebus for the first time. ‘Does DI Clarke think I’ll ever use Dean Grant again? Whether he told you anything or not, he’s off the payroll. Damaged goods, Mr Rebus — no place for them in today’s harsh economic climate, and that’s the truth.’

Rebus pushed open the door and got out, retrieving his carrier bag. As Darryl Christie drove off, he appeared to have forgotten all about his recent passenger, his focus on the road in front of him absolute.

‘Oh well,’ Rebus muttered under his breath. ‘Sorry about that, Deano.’

‘I just wanted to thank you,’ Fox said. He was sitting with Siobhan Clarke at a table in a boisterous Italian restaurant near the top of Leith Walk. It was early evening, but a coach party was taking advantage of the pre- theatre menu before heading to the Playhouse.

‘For what?’ Clarke asked.

‘Putting a word in with Rebus.’

‘Did I do that?’ She furrowed her brow.

‘You told him you thought I was okay.’

‘And for that I deserve to be bought dinner?’

‘You can’t live on cheeseburgers.’

‘Don’t remind me.’ She made show of rubbing her stomach, stopping as the drinks arrived — a large Pinot Grigio for her, tomato juice for Fox. ‘How long have you been dry?’ she asked.

‘Long enough to know it’s the way it has to be. Have you ever tried persuading John to stop?’

‘Once or twice. He seems to cope, though.’

‘I think the term is “functioning alcoholic”.’

‘Whereas you. .?’

‘Come with a history of malfunctioning.’ He paused. ‘Doesn’t mean I envy him the ability to keep drinking. It’s taking more out of him than he gets back, whether he knows it or not.’

‘You’ve talked to him?’

Fox shook his head. ‘What’s the point? But I can see he’s worried. Not about the drink, but about his job. He wonders how long he has left.’

‘And without the job. .’

Fox shrugged. ‘What else has he got?’

‘How about you, Malcolm — what have you got?’

‘My dad and my sister. Plus my team from the Complaints. We still meet up.’

‘Might be a bit of distance between you and them now you’re CID. .’

Fox nodded. ‘And I know I have to earn my place. Nobody’s going to trust me at the start. But plenty of others have made the move before me — it can be done.’

Clarke nodded her agreement. Their food arrived and they ate in silence for a few moments, while fresh laughter erupted from the table of revellers.

‘Nice to know there’s another world out there,’ Fox commented. ‘Too easy sometimes to let the job smother us.’

‘Though having said that. .’

Fox looked at her and smiled. ‘You want to talk about the case?’

‘I’m wondering if you think there might be a connection. Dean Grant sells drugs to Forbes McCuskey. He’s also one of the last people to see Billy Saunders alive. Saunders and Forbes’s father both end up dead.’

‘And Summerhall?’

‘Ties to Saunders but not to Pat McCuskey — unless I’m missing something.’

‘Stefan Gilmour,’ Fox stated.

‘You mean because he was on the opposing team in the independence fight?’ Clarke nodded slowly while she chewed. ‘But I don’t sense any animosity between the two men — far from it. People we’ve talked to say they had a lot of respect for one another.’

‘Maybe a facade.’

Now she shook her head. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘You want to amalgamate with DCI Ralph? Turn the two cases into one?’

‘I don’t know. Your money would still be on Summerhall, wouldn’t it?’

‘Yes. But in the meantime, I’d probably want Nick Ralph to know that Forbes McCuskey’s father was sleeping with Forbes’s good friend Alice.’

‘Could the wife have suspected?’

‘She might need to be asked that.’

‘I should phone Nick?’

‘I would.’

‘And if Alice Bell denies it?’

‘Then she denies it.’

‘How did John get her to own up?’ Clarke asked, eyes narrowed in thought.

‘The man does have his qualities,’ Fox said, reaching for his tomato juice as the