‘No name?’ he enquired.
‘Not that I heard.’
‘What was he driving?’
‘New-looking BMW X5. Black bodywork and tinted windows.’
‘You didn’t happen to get the licence number?’
Bairstow shook his head. ‘Wasn’t personalised or anything.’
They were standing in front of the cars. Rebus recognised the Citroën — the line was still there where he had dragged a finger across its bodywork. The dust sheet that had been covering the Renault was visible through its rear window.
‘What about the other drivers?’
Rebus listened to Bairstow’s description. One was almost certainly the guard from the multi-storey, the one who had left Rebus with a bruise the size of a tea plate.
‘They left the keys?’
Bairstow dug in his overalls and held them up.
‘Have you taken a look yet?’
The man shook his head.
‘Sure about that?’
‘Completely.’
‘Then let’s get both boots open and see what we’ve got.’
They unlocked the Citroën first. Rebus could smell some sort of oil. There were strips of cloth inside and he lifted one to his nose.
‘What do you think?’ Fox asked.
‘Been wrapped around something. Maybe guns.’
‘Guns?’ The blood drained from the mechanic’s face.
Rebus lifted the carpeting but found nothing except a spare tyre. Fox meantime had opened one of the rear doors and was feeling around beneath the seats.
‘Got any plastic bags?’ he asked.
‘In the office,’ Bairstow said.
‘Go fetch some.’
When the mechanic had moved off, Fox told Rebus they really needed a forensics team.
‘Agreed. You finding anything?’
‘I’ll show you in a minute.’
Rebus opened the driver’s door and reached across to open the glove box. Nothing inside but a spare set of bulbs. The floor was clean and the door pockets were empty. Bairstow had returned with some small clear bags, the kind bank staff used when counting coins. Fox placed his hand into one of them and used it to pick something up from the floor, folding the bag back over the item, trapping it. Then he held it up for Rebus to examine. An unused shotgun cartridge.
‘Boom,’ Rebus said, patting his colleague on the back. He took the second key from Bairstow and unlocked the Renault. Again, there was nothing obvious in the boot, other than the remains of some fine white powder.
‘Looks like a bag maybe burst,’ Rebus commented.
‘Or someone needed a taste,’ Fox added.
Rebus dabbed at a little and rubbed it against his gum. ‘Bit of a burn,’ he said.
Bairstow’s eyes widened further. ‘I didn’t. . If I’d known. . They’ll kill me, won’t they?’ He was beginning to twitch.
‘Your name won’t even feature, Reese — don’t worry.’ Rebus took out his phone. The signal was weak, but he got through to Torphichen and asked to speak to Nick Ralph. ‘And I know you probably hear it all the time, but this really
When Ralph was eventually found, Rebus laid everything out for him. ‘Bell is in a black BMW X5 with tinted windows. We need to grab that car. There’s a good chance it’ll have some goodies in the boot. Plus a few baddies in the front.’
Rebus watched Fox roll his eyes at the pun. He mouthed the words
‘I’ll see to it, John,’ Ralph said. ‘And a forensic team to the scrapyard, yes?’
‘Absolutely. Checking for prints and trace evidence.’
‘And you’re sure you’ve cleared this with DCI Page?’
‘He agrees with me, sir — it’s all the one case.’
‘Then I’ll get on to it. Thank you, John.’
‘Yes, sir. Oh, by the way — have you pulled the three students in for interview.’
‘They were supposed to be here at nine. Tried their phones and sent an officer to Ms Traynor’s flat — no joy.’
‘Keeping their heads down.’
‘Pretty much as you predicted. Any more tasks for me before I get started with this lot?’
‘No, sir.’ Rebus ended the call and tapped his phone against his chin.
‘Job done?’ Fox asked him.
‘Not quite,’ Rebus decided. ‘But it’s up to you whether you want to see it through. Could get messy.’
‘I can always clean up after,’ Fox told him with a shrug.
‘Getting to like CID, Detective Inspector?’
‘It has its attractions,’ Malcolm Fox conceded.
Every parking space on Great King Street was taken, so Rebus ended up on the single yellow again. He had explained to Fox that they were going to have a word with Owen Traynor. If he wasn’t there, hopefully Jessica or Alice Bell could provide his whereabouts.
‘Alice knew about the body in the boot?’ Fox asked.
Rebus nodded. ‘Her uncle’s way of letting her know he was taking care of her.’
‘Not quite a birthday card with a tenner in it.’
‘Not quite,’ Rebus agreed.
Rebus pressed the bell but there was no answer. He was trying a second time when Fox tugged on his sleeve. ‘Isn’t that. .?’
He was pointing along the street, towards a black 4x4. Rebus led the way, walking around the car. Tinted windows. BMW X5. No parking fee had been paid and the wardens had already stuck a ticket on the windscreen.
‘Shall I phone it in?’ Fox asked.
Rebus nodded, then tried the boot, though he knew it would be locked. Pressing his nose to the glass, he couldn’t see anything on the back seat. No boxes or bags.
‘Someone should stand guard till the cavalry gets here,’ he said, once Fox had ended the call.
‘And let you go upstairs on your own?’ Fox was shaking his head. ‘If Rory Bell is in there, his sidekicks might be too. What do you think they’re doing?’
‘Best-case scenario, having a pow-wow with Traynor.’
‘And worst-case?’
‘I don’t really want to think about it.’
‘Nobody’s answering anyway,’ Fox commented.
But as they approached the building, a neighbour emerged, manoeuvring a bicycle ahead of her. Fox sprinted forward, holding the door open. The woman thanked him with a smile as she strapped on her helmet.
‘Thank
They climbed the three storeys in silence. When they got to the door of Jessica Traynor’s flat, Fox indicated that it wasn’t quite closed. Rebus pushed it open an inch and listened.
Silence.
