‘I don’t know about that, sir. There was a minor hiccup this morning, all taken care of.’
Lauderdale nodded, still seeming affable. Flower had crossed his legs, at ease with the world. When Lauderdale next spoke, he held up a finger to accompany each point.
‘Two schoolkids barge in on you. Then DC Petrie gets into a punch-up with a complete stranger. A window is smashed, and so is Petrie’s nose. DC Clarke’s down at street level trying to brush away broken glass and curious passers-by.’ He looked up from his full hand. ‘Any possibility, John, that Operation Moneybags has been placed in jeopardy?’
‘No possibility, sir.’ Rebus held up one finger. ‘The man won’t talk, because if he does we’ll charge him with assault.’ A second finger. ‘And the boys won’t talk because the father will warn them not to.’ He held his two fingers in the air, then lowered his hand.
‘With all due respect, sir,’ the Little Weed was saying, ‘we’ve got a fight and a broken window in what was supposed to be a deserted building. People are nosy, it’s human nature. They’ll be looking up at that window tomorrow, and they’ll be wondering. Any movement behind the window will be noticed.’
Lauderdale turned to Rebus. ‘John?’
‘What Inspector Flower says is true, sir, as far as it goes. But people are quick to forget. What they’ll see tomorrow is a new window, end of story. Nobody saw anything from the taxi offices, and even if they heard the glass, it’s not like it doesn’t happen every day along Gorgie.’
‘Even so, Joh…’
‘Even so, sir, it was a mistake. I’ve already made that clear to DC Clarke.’ He could have told them that it was all the fault of the woman from Trading Standards, but making excuses made you seem weak. Rebus could take this on the chin. He’d even take it on the back of his scalp if it would get him out of the office any faster. The aromas of whisky and body odour were making him slightly queasy.
‘Alister?’
‘Well, sir, you know my view on the subject.’
Lauderdale nodded. ‘John,’ he said, ‘a lot of planning has gone into Operation Moneybags, and there’s a lot at stake. If you’re going to let a couple of kids wander into the middle of the surveillance, maybe it’s time you rethought your priorities. For example, those files beside your desk. That stuff’s five years old. Get your brain back to the here and now, understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We know you must have been affected by the attack on DS Holmes. What I’m asking is, are you up to helping run Operation Moneybags?’
Ah, here it was. The Little Weed wanted the surveillance for himself. He wanted to be the one to bring in Dougary.
‘I’m up to it, sir.’
‘No more fuck-ups then, understood?’
‘Understood, sir.’
Rebus would have said anything to shorten the meeting; well, just about anything. But he was damned if he was going to hand anything to Flower, least of all a case like this, even if he did think it a waste of time. Get back to the here and now, Lauderdale had said. But when Rebus left the office, he knew exactly where his brain was heading: back to the there and then.
By late afternoon, he decided that he had only two options regarding the Central Hotel, only two people left who might help. He telephoned one, and after a little persuasion was able to arrange an immediate interview.
‘There may be interruptions,’ the secretary warned. ‘We’re very busy just now.’
‘I can put up with interruptions.’
Twenty minutes later, he was ushered into a small wood-panelled office in a well-maintained old stone building. The windows looked out onto uglier new constructions of corrugated metal and shining steel. Steam billowed from pipes, but indoors you miraculously lost that strong brewery smell.
The door opened and a thirtyish man ambled into the room. ‘Inspector Rebus?’
They shook hands. ‘Good of you to see me at such short notice, sir.’
‘Your call was intriguing. I still like a bit of intrigue.’
Close up, Rebus saw that Aengus Gibson was probably still in his twenties. The sober suit, the spectacles and short sleek hair made him seem older. He went to his desk, slipped off his jacket, and placed it carefully over the back of a large padded chair. Then he sat down and began rolling up his shirtsleeves.
‘Sit yourself down, Inspector, please. Now, something to do with the Central Hotel, you said?’
There were papers laid out on the desk, and Gibson appeared to be browsing through them as Rebus spoke, but Rebus knew the man was taking in every word.
‘As you know, Mr Gibson, the Central burnt down five years ago. The cause of the fire was never satisfactorily explained, but more disturbing still was the finding of a body, a body with a bullet-hole through the heart. The body has never been identified.’
Rebus paused. Gibson took off his glasses and laid them on top of the papers. ‘I knew the Central quite well, Inspector. I’m sure my reputation precedes you into this office.’
‘Past and present reputations, sir.’
Gibson made no show of hearing this. ‘I was a bit wild in my youth, and a wilder crowd you’d be hard pressed to find than that congregating in the Central Hotel in those days.’
‘You’d be in your early twenties, sir, hardly a “youth”.’
‘Some of us take longer to grow up than others.’
‘Why did you arrange to meet Matthew Vanderhyde there?’
Gibson sat back in his chair. ‘Ah, now I see why you’re here. Well, I thought Uncle Matthew might appreciate the seedy glory of the Central. He was wild himself in years past.’
‘And maybe also you thought it might shock him?’
‘Nobody could shock Matthew Vanderhyde, Inspector.’ He smiled. ‘But perhaps you’re right. Yes, I’m sure there was an element of that. I knew damned fine that my father had asked him to talk to me. So I arranged to meet in the worst place I could think of.’
‘I could probably have helped find a few worse places than the Central.’
‘Me too, really. But the Central wa…well, central.’
‘And the two of you talked?’
‘He talked. I was supposed to listen. But when you’re with a blind man, Inspector, you don’t need to put up any pretence. No need for glazed eyes and all that. I think I read the paper, tried the crossword, watched the TV. It didn’t seem to matter to him. He was doing my father a favour, that was all.’
‘But pretty soon afterwards you put your “Black Aengus” days behind you.’
‘That’s true, yes. Maybe Uncle Matthew’s words had an effect after all.’
‘And after the meeting?’
‘We thought of having dinner together-not, I might add, in the Central. Filthiest kitchens I’ve ever seen. But I think I had a prior appointment with a young lady. Well, not that young, actually. Married, I seem to recall. Sometimes I miss those days. The media call me a reformed character. It’s an easy cliche, but damned hard to live up to.’
‘Your name never appeared on the official list of the Central’s customers that night.’
‘An oversight.’
‘One you could have corrected by coming forward.’
‘Giving yet more fuel to the newspapers.’
‘What if they found out now that you were there?’
‘Well, Inspector, that wouldn’t be fuel.’ Aengus Gibson’s eyes were warm and clear. ‘That would be an incendiary.’
‘Is there anything you can tell me about that night, sir?’
‘You seem to know all of it. I was in the bar with Matthew Vanderhyde. We left hours before the place caught fire.’
Rebus nodded. ‘Have you ever been on the hotel’s first floor, sir?’
‘What an extraordinary question. It was five years ago.’
‘A long time, certainly.’
‘And now the case is being reopened?’
‘In a way, sir, yes. We can’t give too many details.’