Music was leaking from the headphones James Bell wore. He still hadn’t looked up from his reading. Rebus guessed he thought his mother had come in, and was studiously ignoring her. The facial similarity between son and father was remarkable. Rebus bent down a little, angling his face, and James finally looked up, eyes widening in surprise. He slipped off the headphones, turned the music off.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Rebus said. “Your mum said we should just come up.”
“Who are you?”
“We’re detectives, James. Wondered if you could give us a moment of your time.” Rebus was standing by the bed, being careful not to kick over the large bottle of water by his feet.
“What’s going on?”
Rebus had lifted the magazine from the bed. It was about gun collecting. “Funny subject,” he said.
“I’m trying to find the one he shot me with.”
Siobhan had taken the magazine from Rebus. “I think I can understand that,” she said. “You want to know all about it?”
“I didn’t get much of a look at it.”
“You sure about that, James?” Rebus asked. “Lee Herdman collected gun stuff.” He nodded towards the magazine, which Siobhan was now flicking through. “That one of his?”
“What?”
“Did he let you borrow it? We hear you knew him a bit better than you’ve been letting on.”
“I never said I didn’t know him.”
“‘We’d met socially’-your exact words, James. I heard them on the tape. You make it sound like you’d bump into him in the pub or the newsagent’s.” Rebus paused. “Except that he’d told you he was ex-SAS, and that’s more than just a casual comment, isn’t it? Maybe you were talking about it at one of his parties.” Another pause. “You used to go to his parties, didn’t you?”
“Some. He was an interesting guy.” James glared at Rebus. “I probably said that on the tape, too. Besides, I told the police all this already, told them how well I knew Lee, and that I went to his parties… even about that time he showed me the gun…”
Rebus’s eyes narrowed. “He showed you?”
“Christ, haven’t you listened to the tapes?”
Rebus couldn’t help but glance towards Siobhan. Tapes, plural… they’d only bothered listening to the one. “Which gun was this?”
“The one he kept in his boathouse.”
“Did you think it was real?” Siobhan asked.
“It looked real.”
“Anyone else there at the time?”
James shook his head.
“You never saw the other one, the pistol?”
“Not until he shot me with it.” The teenager looked down at his injured shoulder.
“You and two others,” Rebus reminded him. “Am I right to say that he didn’t know Anthony Jarvies and Derek Renshaw?”
“Not that I know of.”
“But he left you alive. Are you just lucky, James?”
James’s fingers hovered just above his wound. “I’ve been wondering about that,” he said quietly. “Maybe he recognized me at the last moment…”
Siobhan cleared her throat. “And have you been wondering why he did it in the first place?”
James nodded slowly but didn’t say anything.
“Maybe,” Siobhan continued, “he saw something in you he didn’t see in the others.”
“They were both pretty active in the CCF, could be it had something to do with that,” James offered.
“How do you mean?”
“Well… Lee was in the army half his life… and then they kicked him out.”
“He told you that?” Rebus asked.
James nodded again. “Maybe he had this grudge. I’ve said he didn’t know Renshaw and Jarvies, but that doesn’t mean he hadn’t seen them around… maybe in their uniforms. Some kind of… trigger?” He looked up, smiled. “I know-I should leave the hack psychology to the hack psychologists.”
“You’re being very helpful,” Siobhan said, not because she believed it necessarily but because she thought he was looking for some sliver of praise.
“The thing is, James,” Rebus said, “if we could understand why he’d left you alive, we’d maybe know why the others had to die. Do you see?”
James was thoughtful. “Does it really matter, in the end?”
“We think it does.” Rebus straightened up. “Who else did you see at these parties, James?”
“You’re asking for names?”
“That’s the general idea.”
“It wasn’t always the same people.”
“Teri Cotter?” Rebus hinted.
“Yes, she was there sometimes. Always brought a few Goths with her.”
“You’re not a Goth yourself, James?” Siobhan asked.
He gave a short laugh. “Do I look like one?”
She shrugged. “The music you listen to…”
“It’s just rock music, that’s all.”
She lifted the small machine attached to his headphones. “MP3 player,” she commented, sounding impressed. “What about Douglas Brimson, ever see him at the parties?”
“Is he the guy who flies planes?” Siobhan nodded. “I spoke to him one time, yes.” He paused. “Look, these weren’t really ‘parties,’ not like the organized sort. It was just people dropping in, having a drink…”
“Doing drugs?” Rebus asked casually.
“Sometimes, yes,” James admitted.
“Speed? Coke? A bit of E?”
The teenager snorted. “A couple of joints passed round if you were lucky.”
“Nothing harder?”
“No.”
There was a knock at the door. It was Mrs. Bell. She looked at the two visitors as though she’d forgotten all about them. “Oh,” she said, confused for a moment. Then: “I’ve made some sandwiches, James. What would you like to drink?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“But it’s lunchtime.”
“Do you want me puking up, Mum?”
“No… of course not.”
“I’ll tell you when I’m hungry.” His voice had hardened: not because he was angry, Rebus thought, but because he was embarrassed. “But I’ll have a mug of coffee, not too much milk in it.”
“Right,” his mother said. Then, to Rebus: “Would you like a…?”
“We’re just on our way, thanks all the same, Mrs. Bell.” She nodded, stood for a moment as though forgetting what she’d been about to do, then turned and left, her feet making no sound on the carpet.
“Your mother’s all right, is she?” Rebus asked.
“Are you blind?” James shifted position. “A lifetime with my dad… it’s no wonder.”
“You don’t get on with your father?”
“Not particularly.”
“You know he’s started a petition?”
James screwed up his face. “Fat lot of good it’ll do.” He was silent for a moment. “Was it Teri Cotter?”
“What?”
“Was she the one who told you I went to Lee’s flat?” The detectives stayed silent. “Wouldn’t put it past her.” He shifted again, as if trying to get comfortable.
“Want me to help you?” Siobhan offered.
James shook his head. “I think I need some more painkillers.” Siobhan found them by the other side of the bed, sitting in their silver strip of foil on a readied chess board. She gave him two tablets, which he washed down with water.
“One more question, James,” Rebus said, “then we’ll leave you to it.”
“What?”
Rebus nodded towards the foil. “Mind if I nick a couple of tabs? I’ve run out…”