“But you must.” The father sounded aghast.
The son sneered. “It’s not about you anymore, Dad, do you see? It’s all about me now. I’m the one who’s going to put you back on the front pages, but for all the wrong reasons. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m not a minor-I’m eighteen. Old enough to vote, old enough to do lots of things.” He seemed to wait for a retort that did not come, then turned his attention back to Rebus. “What is it you need to know?”
“Am I right about Teri?”
“I knew she was sleeping with Lee.”
“When you gave him that book… you left her photo there deliberately?”
“I suppose so.”
“Hoping he’d see it, and do what?” Rebus watched as James shrugged. “Maybe it was enough that he would know you liked her, too.” Rebus paused. “Why that particular book, though?”
James looked at him. “Because Lee wanted to read it. He knew the story, how the guy had jumped to his death from a plane. He wasn’t…” James seemed unable to find the words he needed. He took a deep breath. “He was a deeply unhappy man, you must realize that.”
“Unhappy in what way?”
The word came to James. “Haunted,” he said. “That’s the sense I always got. He was haunted.”
There was silence in the room for a moment, broken by Rebus: “You took the gun from Lee’s flat?”
“That’s right.”
“He didn’t know?”
A shake of the head.
“You knew about the Brocock?” Bobby Hogan asked, just about keeping his voice under control. James nodded.
“So how come he turned up at the school?” Rebus asked.
“I left him a note. Didn’t expect him to find it so soon.”
“What was your plan then, James?”
“Just walk into the common room-usually only the two of them there-and kill them.”
“In cold blood?”
“That’s right.”
“Two kids who’d done you no harm?”
“Two less on the planet.” The teenager shrugged. “I don’t see typhoons and hurricanes, earthquakes and famine…”
“And that’s why you did it, because it wouldn’t matter?”
James was thoughtful. “Maybe.”
Rebus looked down at the carpet, trying to control the rage growing within him. My family… my blood…
“It all happened so fast,” James was telling them. “I was amazed how calm I felt. Bang bang, two bodies… Lee was walking in the door as I shot the second one. He just stood there, the pair of us did. Didn’t know quite what to do.” He smiled at the memory. “Then he held out his hand for the gun, and I handed it over.” The smile evaporated. “Last thing I expected was for the stupid sod to point it at his own head.”
“Why do you think he did that?”
James shook his head slowly. “I’ve been trying to work it out ever since… Do you know?” An imploring edge to the question; needing an answer. Rebus had a few theories: because the gun was his, and he felt responsible… because the incident would bring whole teams of professionals sniffing around, including the army… because it was a way out…
Because he would no longer be haunted.
“You took the gun from him and shot yourself in the shoulder,” Rebus said quietly. “Then placed it back in his hand?”
“Yes. The note I’d left for him, it was in his other hand. I took that, too.”
“What about fingerprints.”
“I did what they do in the films, wiped the pistol with my shirt.”
“But when you first walked in there… you must have been prepared for everyone to know you’d done it. Why the change of heart?”
The teenager shrugged. “Because the chance presented itself maybe. Do we really know why we do what we do… in the heat of the moment?” He turned to his father. “Instincts sometimes get the better of us. Those dark little thoughts…”
Which was when his father lunged at him, grabbing him around the neck, the two of them falling backwards over the sofa, crashing to the floor.
“You little bastard!” Jack Bell was yelling. “Do you know what you’ve done? I’m ruined now! In tatters! Absolute fucking tatters!”
Rebus and Hogan separated them, the father still snarling and swearing, the son almost serene by comparison and studying his father’s incoherent ire as though it was a memory he would treasure in the years to come. The door had opened, Kate standing there. Rebus wanted to make James Bell fall down at her feet, beg forgiveness. She was taking in the scene, trying to make sense of it.
“Jack?” she asked softly.
Jack Bell looked at her, as if she was a stranger to him. Rebus was still holding the MSP in a bear hug from behind.
“Get out of here, Kate,” he pleaded. “Just go home.”
“I don’t understand.”
James Bell, passive in Hogan’s grasp, looked across to the doorway, then over to where his father and Rebus stood. A smile spread slowly across his face.
“Will you tell her, or shall I…?”
25
I can’t believe it,” Siobhan said, not for the first time. Rebus’s phone call to her had lasted almost the whole of her drive from St. Leonard’s to the airfield.
“I’m having a hard time taking it in myself.”
She was on the A8, heading west out of the city. Looked in her mirror, then signaled, moving out to pass a taxi. Businessman in the back of it, calmly reading a newspaper on his way to his flight. Siobhan felt like she needed to pull over on to the hard shoulder, bolt from her car and do some screaming, just to release whatever it was she was feeling. Was it the rush of getting a result? Two results really: the Herdman case and Fairstone’s murder. Or was it the frustration of not being around at the time?
“He couldn’t have shot Herdman, too, could he?” she asked.
“Who? Young Master Bell?” She could hear Rebus turning from his phone to relay her question to Bobby Hogan.
“He leaves the note, knowing Herdman will follow him,” Siobhan was saying, mind rushing. “Kills all three and turns the gun on himself.”
“It’s a theory,” Rebus’s voice crackled, sounding unconvinced. “What’s that noise?”
“My phone. It’s telling me it needs a recharge.” She took the airport access road, the taxi still visible in her mirror. “I could cancel, you know.” Meaning the flying lesson.
“What’s the point? Nothing doing here.”
“You’re heading for Queensferry?”
“Already there. Bobby’s driving in through the school gates as I speak.” He turned away from the phone again, said something to Hogan. Sounded like he was saying he wanted to be there when Hogan explained everything to Claverhouse and Ormiston. Siobhan caught the words “especially that the drug-running’s a non-starter.”
“Who put the drugs on his boat?” she asked.
“Didn’t catch that, Siobhan.”
She repeated the question. “You think Whiteread did it to keep the inquiry active?”
“I’m not sure even she has the clout for that sort of sting. We’re rounding up the small fry. Cars are already out looking for Rab Fisher and Peacock Johnson. Bobby’s just about to deliver the news to Claverhouse.”
“I wish I could be there.”
“Catch us afterwards. We’ll be adjourning to the pub.”
“Not the Boatman’s, though?”
“I thought maybe we’d try the place next door… just for a change.”
“I should only be an hour or so.”
“Take your time. I don’t suppose we’ll be going anywhere. Bring Brimson with you, if you like.”
“Should I tell him about James Bell?”
“That’s up to you… papers will have it by the close of play.”
“Meaning Steve Holly?”
“Reckon I owe the sod that much. At least then Claverhouse doesn’t get the pleasure of breaking the news.” He paused. “Did you manage to put the frighteners on Rod McAllister?”
“He still denies writing the letters.”
“It’s enough that you know… and that he knows you do. Feeling okay about the flying lesson?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“Maybe I should alert air traffic control.” She could hear Hogan saying something in the background, and Rebus chuckling.