‘His name was Gareth,’ she intoned in a voice that was almost a whisper, her rheumy eyes beginning to fill. ‘Gareth Davies.’
‘Two men, one woman.’ Novack offered a shrug.
Rebus turned his attention back to Joe Collins. ‘The revolver you kept on the wall behind the bar – what was that about?’
‘I found it washed ashore. Probably belonged to a guard, tossed away to mark the end of the conflict.’
‘You had it made safe?’
‘No need – the mechanical parts had seized; it was never going to work.’
‘When it went missing, what did you think?’
‘It is of no consequence.’
Behind Rebus the door clattered open, a shadow looming over the table.
‘What the hell are you up to?’ Robin Creasey demanded. Rebus turned to face him.
‘Just doing your job, DS Creasey. Someone has to.’
‘A word with you outside, right now.’
Rebus gave a sigh of apology as he rose slowly from the table, following the detective out onto the pavement.
‘You’ve been back to the camp,’ Creasey stated.
‘You got my message, then?’
‘So what is it you feel you need to tell me?’
Rebus made show of considering the question. ‘Now that I think of it, I’m not sure it’s anything you should concern yourself with. Probably got enough on your plate as it is.’
‘Whereas your plate should have been cleaned and put away by now.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning why the hell are you still here?’
‘My daughter’s partner was murdered, in case you’ve forgotten.’
‘And the last thing I need is you trampling over that inquiry. What the hell were you doing visiting Strathy Castle?’
‘News gets around.’
‘The gardener has a mate who’s a copper in Thurso. Asked him to check if there’s someone on the force in Edinburgh called Fox. There is, sort of, but the description didn’t match. The real Fox is a couple of decades too young, for a start.’
‘Doesn’t mean to say it was me at the castle.’
‘Except you just admitted it.’
‘Stupid of me … ’ Rebus stuffed his hands into his pockets. Both men turned as the door to the bar opened again. Stefan Novack was wrapping a scarf around his neck.
‘I have another appointment,’ he explained. ‘Josef has fallen asleep and Helen needs to get home to take her pills. I hope we were of some use to you.’
‘I’d have liked a bit more time,’ Rebus said. ‘Can we talk again?’
‘As you wish.’ Novack was holding the door open so that Helen Carter could manoeuvre her way out of The Glen with her walking frame. She didn’t seem to recognise Rebus. The pair of them headed to a waiting car, Novack unlocking the doors.
‘What was your little meeting about?’ Creasey asked.
‘Keith interviewed them, but there’s precious little sign of any of that in the papers in his garage. Whoever took his laptop had to have good reason. There was also a memory stick with the audio recordings – again, missing.’
Creasey screwed up his face. ‘Come on, John, we’ve already discussed this. Every housebreaker and mugger knows something like a computer or a mobile phone can be resold.’
‘His notebooks are gone too, though. You telling me they were going to sell those?’
‘So the story you’re trying to foist on me is that he was murdered in cold blood because of his interest in a Second World War internment camp? That makes more sense to you than a personal grudge, a falling-out or a robbery?’
Rebus jabbed a finger towards Creasey. ‘Are you pinning this on my daughter?’
‘We’re keeping an open mind.’
‘Who else have you got? Jess Hawkins?’
‘Why him especially?’ Creasey sounded genuinely interested.
‘Because his Jim Jones Brigadoon cult is practically next door to Camp 1033.’
‘And?’
‘And he or one of his minions could have decided it was the only way to deliver Samantha to the cause.’
The two men stared at one another in silence for a moment. Rebus exhaled noisily and ran his hand through his hair.
‘I don’t know, Robin. I really don’t.’
‘Where does Lord Strathy fit into your theories?’
Rebus shook his head. ‘A favour for an ex-colleague in Edinburgh.’
‘This guy Fox?’
‘Not him, no. You know Strathy owns a lot of the land around here, including Camp 1033 and Hawkins’ commune?’
Creasey raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not sure I did know that.’
‘Keith wanted the community to buy the land the camp’s on, turn it into a visitor attraction.’
‘And?’
‘And now his lordship seems to have dropped off everyone’s radar.’
Creasey looked a bit more interested. ‘Since when?’
‘Good question. I’m not really sure. But my gut tells me the gardener at the castle – guy by the name of Colin Belkin – might once not have been such good friends with cops.’
‘He’s got a record?’
‘Worth a bit of digging, I’d say.’
Creasey worked his jaw as he did some calculations. ‘My team’s pretty stretched as it is … ’
‘They all stuck in that Portakabin?’
‘We’ve got the use of the police station in Tongue – just as soon as we track down whoever has the key so we can unlock it.’
‘I could always lend a hand if you’re short of bodies.’
‘Nice try, John, but … well, you know damned fine what I’m going to say.’
‘I should butt out, go home, keep out of your hair – something along those lines?’
‘You should be focusing on Samantha and Carrie – they need you a lot more than the dead do.’ Creasey studied his watch.
‘Don’t let me keep you.’
‘I’ve got a thing in Inverness tonight. Need to get going.’
‘Had a chance to check my prints against those found in the Volvo?’
‘Yours, mine, Samantha’s and Keith’s. Plus a child’s partials that we’re guessing belong to your granddaughter.’ Creasey paused. ‘You know Samantha visited Hawkins’ place the day Keith died? Don’t bother answering – I can see the answer on your face. Does that sound to you like her fling with the man was over?’
‘You’re not having her, Creasey. No way I’m letting that happen.’
Creasey stared at him. ‘Nothing I’ve said has made a blind bit
