‘The one on the dresser–how can I forget? I had to come in every night and drape a towel over it.’
‘Because I was convinced it led somewhere dark and scary.’
Rebus smiled at the memory. ‘I wonder why I didn’t just take it away.’
Samantha’s eyes met his. ‘Because I needed it to look into when it was light outside.’
He nodded slowly, his gaze returning to the road ahead.
‘You were okay,’ he heard her say. Then she reached forward to turn the CD back on.
Average White Band: ‘Pick Up the Pieces’.
He hoped that was what they were doing.
25
Siobhan Clarke’s call was eventually answered.
‘I’ve got just about enough signal for a bollocking,’ she heard Rebus say by way of introduction.
‘Good, because I’m primed to give you one.’
‘It’s online already?’
‘Which is why I’ve had Laura Smith on the phone, screaming about how come she’s not the one we gave it to.’
‘You put two and two together…’
‘All investigations leak at some point, but I know what you’re like.’
‘What am I like?’
‘You stir shit up for the sake of it.’
‘Not strictly true–I usually only do it when I’m getting nowhere. How’s Brillo?’
Clarke looked down at the floor of her living room. ‘Curled up next to me.’
‘You’re walking him, though?’
‘We’re just back. So talk me through it–maybe then I’ll have something I can tell Laura while I’m buying her the first of several large gins.’
‘She’s the press–you don’t need to go kowtowing.’
‘You forgetting she’s helped us plenty in the past?’ Clarke sat down on the chair so heavily, Brillo’s head shot up. She gave him a pat of reassurance.
‘A young reporter up here, he did me a couple of favours so I decided I owed him.’
‘You couldn’t just take him to the pub?’
‘I’m not convinced he’s old enough to get served. Besides, what harm does it do?’
‘Ramsay Meiklejohn is a member of the House of Lords. That makes his disappearance–if that’s what it is–national news, maybe even international. The London tabloids are scenting blood.’
‘I’m still not seeing a downside.’
‘You might when they descend on Naver. You’ve only had the Scottish media to deal with so far–they’re pussycats by comparison. “Anyone seen Lord Strathy?”; “No, but while you’re here, we’ve a murder you might be interested in–victim’s partner lives just up the road.”’
‘Yes?’
‘Christ, John, you’re throwing your own daughter to the…’ Clarke broke off, rising to her feet again and beginning to pace. ‘You think she did it?’ The question was met with silence.
‘No shortage of suspects,’ Rebus eventually answered.
‘You’re not seriously adding Lord Strathy to the list?’
‘Keith went to Strathy Castle, kicked up a stink.’
‘Why?’
‘He wanted Strathy to sell him the camp. Strathy wasn’t inclined to agree.’
‘I’m not seeing grounds for murder.’
‘Wouldn’t mind asking his lordship a few questions, though–and his gardener, come to that.’
‘Haven’t got round yet to checking him for you–sorry.’
‘Never mind. I already know he has a record, along with a history of violence. He hustled Keith off the castle grounds.’ There was silence on the line for a moment. Then: ‘You’ve spoken to the daughter?’
‘She seems very relaxed about things.’
‘Why would that be?’
‘Might be an act.’ Clarke sighed and glanced down in Brillo’s direction. ‘John, if you’re going to be much longer, it’s going to have to be a kennel job.’
‘Nonsense–you spend too much time in the office as it is.’
‘Not as much as Malcolm.’
‘You’re not able to keep tabs on him as much as you’d like?’
‘He’s become friendly with your old sparring partner.’
Another moment’s silence.
‘Has he now?’ Rebus eventually drawled. ‘And why’s that?’
‘Something to do with Stewart Scoular.’
‘The SNP guy? You mentioned him before.’
‘Drummed out of the party and now reinvented as a land developer. He seems to feature in Strathy’s plans for your POW camp.’
‘Is there a connection, do you think?’
‘Only if Keith was killed because of his opposition, and frankly I still think that’s a stretch.’ Clarke paused. ‘Is it possible you’re seeing things that aren’t there, John? You used to say to me that the simple explanation usually turns out to be the right one.’
‘The simple explanation would bring Samantha back into the picture.’
‘Exactly.’ Clarke paused by her window, peering down onto the night-time street below. It all looked so peaceful, so orderly. ‘You never answered my question earlier.’
‘Which one?’
‘You know damn well.’
She listened to Rebus exhale at length and noisily. ‘She’s my daughter, Shiv, and she has a daughter of her own. She can’t do time, guilty or not.’
‘Jesus, John…’
‘I’ve put away innocent people before.’
Clarke pressed her forehead to the glass. ‘I don’t want to hear any of this.’
‘Then don’t ask. You’ve got enough on your plate, notably Malcolm Fox. You can’t let Cafferty get his claws into him–that bastard never, ever lets go.’
‘What do you think’s going on?’
‘Cafferty would do anything to have someone on the inside at Gartcosh, the higher up the better.’
‘Malcolm’s hardly—’
‘But he’s on his way, and it seems he has the ear of the ACC. If and when she lands the top job…’
‘A promotion for Malcolm?’
‘Even without the promotion, he’s still going to look like a prize to Cafferty. I know that sounds ridiculous and I can barely believe I’m saying it, but our slow-moving, slow-thinking DI Fox gets to inhabit spaces closed to the likes of you and me.’
‘The heart of any and all Major Crime investigations?’
‘Anti-terrorism, money laundering, all manner of classified stuff we have no inkling of. And yes, I know it should have been you they came for–staggers me that Fox got the nod.’
‘We both know why, though…’
‘Is this where you point the finger at me? My proximity somehow contaminated you in the minds of the wankers at the Big House?’
‘The thought seems to have crossed your mind,’ Clarke said.
‘But just think how mundane those formative years would have been without me charging into the occasional china shop.’
She was smiling, almost despite herself.
‘So what now?’ Rebus asked into the silence.
‘How many more days do you think you’ll be?’
‘You know as well as I do, it’s sometimes a long game.’
‘Want me to
