repeat himself.
‘Your auntie sent me,’ said Steele. ‘She’s got a message for you.’
Rebus sat Andy Steele down on the sofa with a cup of tea, including the four sugars Steele himself had requested.
‘Can’t be good for your teeth.’
‘They’re not my own,’ Steele replied, huddled over the hot mug. ‘Then whose are they?’ asked Rebus. Steele gave the flicker of a smile. ‘You’ve been following me all day.’
‘Not exactly. Maybe if I had a car, but I don’t.’
‘You don’t have a car?’ Steele shook his head. ‘Some private detective.’
‘I didn’t say I was a private detective exactly. I mean, I
‘A sort of trainee, then?’
‘Aye, that’s right. Testing the water, so to speak.’
‘And how’s the water, Andy?’
Another smile, a sip of tea. ‘A bit hot. But I’ll be more careful next time.’
‘I didn’t even know I had an aunt. Not up north.’ Steele’s accent was a giveaway.
Andy Steele nodded. ‘She lives next door to my mum and dad, just across the road from Pittodrie.’
‘Aberdeen?’ Rebus nodded to himself. ‘It’s coming back to me. Yes, an uncle and aunt in Aberdeen.’
‘Your dad and Jimmy-that’s your uncle-fell out years ago. You’re probably too young to remember.’
‘Thanks for the compliment.’
‘It’s just what Ena told me.’
‘And now Uncle Jimmy’s dead?’
‘Three weeks past.’
‘And Aunt Ena wants to see me?’ Steele nodded. ‘What about?’
‘I don’t know. She was just talking about how she’d like to see you again.’
‘Just me? No mention of my brother?’
Steele shook his head. Rebus had checked to see if Michael was in the box room. He wasn’t. But the other bedrooms seemed to be occupied.
‘Right enough,’ said Rebus, ‘if they argued when I was wee, maybe it was before Michael was born.’
‘They might no’ even know about him,’ Steele conceded. Well, that was families for you. ‘Anyway, Ena kept harping on about you, so I told her I’d come south and have a look. I got laid off from the fishing boats, six months ago, and I’ve been going up the wall ever since. Besides, I told you I’ve always fancied being a private eye. I love all those films.’
‘Films don’t get you a knee in the balls.’
‘True enough.’
‘So how
Steele’s face brightened. ‘I went to the address Ena gave me, where you and your dad used to live. All the neighbours knew was that you were a policeman in Edinburgh. So I got the directory out and phoned every station I could find, asking for John Rebus.’ He shrugged and returned to his tea.
‘But how did you get my home address?’
‘Someone in CID gave it to me.’
‘Don’t tell me, Inspector Flower?’
‘A name like that, aye.’
Seated on the sofa, Andy Steele looked to be in his mid-twenties. He had the sort of large frame which could be kept in shape only through hard work, such as that found on a North Sea fishing boat. But already, deprived of work for six months, that frame was growing heavy with disuse. Rebus felt sorry for Andy Steele and his dreams of becoming a private eye. The way he stared into space as he drank the tea, he looked lost, his immediate life without form or plan.
‘So are you going to go and see her?’
‘Maybe at the weekend,’ said Rebus.
‘She’d like that.’
‘I can give you a lift back.’
But the young man was shaking his head. ‘No, I’d like to stay in Edinburgh for a bit.’
‘Suit yourself,’ said Rebus. ‘Just be careful.’
‘Careful? I could tell you stories about Aberdeen that would make your hair stand on end.’
‘And could they thicken it a bit at the temples while they’re at it?’ It took Andy Steele a minute to get the joke.
The next day, Rebus paid a visit to Andrew McPhail. But McPhail wasn’t home, and his landlady hadn’t seen him since the previous evening.
‘Usually he, comes down at seven sharp for a wee bitty breakfast. So I went upstairs and there was no sign of him. Is he in any trouble, Inspector?’
‘No, nothing like that, Mrs MacKenzie. This is a lovely Madiera by the way.’
‘Ach, it’s a few days since I made it, it’s probably a bit dry by now.’
Rebus shook his head and gulped at the tea, hoping to wash the crumbs down his throat. But they merely formed into a huge solid lump which he had to force down by degrees, and without a public show of gagging.
There was a bird-cage standing in one corner of the room, boasting mirrors and cuttlefish and millet spray. But no sign of any bird. Maybe it had escaped.
He left his card with Mrs MacKenzie, telling her to pass it on to Mr McPhail when she saw him. He didn’t doubt that she would. It had been unfair of him to introduce himself as a policeman to the landlady. She would probably become suspicious, and might even give McPhail a week’s notice on the strength of those suspicions. That would be a terrible shame.
Actually, it didn’t look to Rebus as though Mrs MacKenzie would twig. And McPhail would doubtless come up with some reason for Rebus’s visit. Probably the City of Edinburgh Police were about to award him a commendation for saving some puppies from the raging torrents of the Water of Leith. McPhail was good at making up stories, after all. Children just loved to hear stories.
Rebus stood outside Mrs MacKenzie’s house and looked across the road. It had to be coincidence that McPhail had chosen a boarding house within ogling distance of a primary school. Rebus had seen it on his arrival; it had been enough to decide him on identifying himself to the landlady. After all, he didn’t believe in coincidence.
And if McPhail couldn’t be persuaded to move, well, maybe the neighbours would find out the true story of Mrs MacKenzie’s lodge Rebus got into his car. He didn’t always like himself or his job.
But some bits were okay.
Back at St Leonard’s, Siobhan Clarke had nothing new to report on the stabbing. Rory Kintoul was being very cagey about another interview He’d cancelled one arranged meeting, and she’d not been able to contact him since.
‘His son’s seventeen and unemployed, spends most of the day a home, I could try talking to him.’
‘You could.’ But it was a lot of trouble. Maybe Holmes was right. ‘Just do your best,’ said Rebus. ‘After you’ve talked with Kintoul, if we’re no further forward we’ll drop the whole thing. If Kintoul wants to get himself stabbed, that’s fine with me.’
She nodded and turned away.
‘Any news on Brian?’
She turned back. ‘He’s been talking.’
‘Talking?’
‘In his sleep. I thought you’d know.’
‘What’s he been saying?’
‘Nothing they can make out, but it means he’s slowly regaining consciousness.’
‘Good.’
She started to turn away again, but Rebus thought of something ‘How are you getting to Aberdeen on Saturday?’
‘Driving, why?’
