After coffee, Janice said she was going up to bed. Brian said he’d be up in a while. She brought down blankets and a pillow for Rebus, told him where the bathroom was. Told him where the light-switch was in the hall. Told him there was plenty of hot water if he wanted a bath.
‘See you in the morning.’
Brian reached for the remote, switched off the TV, then caught himself.
‘There wasn’t something you wanted to...?’
Rebus shook his head. ‘I’m not a big fan.’
‘And what would you say to a wee whisky?’
‘More my cup of tea altogether,’ Rebus acknowledged with a smile.
They sipped the whisky in silence. It wasn’t a malt: maybe Teacher’s or Grant’s. Brian had added a dollop of water to his, but Rebus hadn’t bothered.
‘Where do you think he is?’ Brian asked at last, swirling the drink around the rim of his glass. ‘Just between us, like.’
As if Janice couldn’t take it; as if he were stronger than her.
‘I don’t know, Brian. I wish I did.’
‘They normally go to London, though.’
‘Yes.’
‘And most of them do OK for themselves?’
Rebus nodded, not wanting any of this, wishing of a sudden that he was back in his flat with his own whisky, his music and books. But Brian had a need to talk.
‘I blame us, you know.’
‘I’d guess most parents do.’
‘I think he picked up on the atmosphere, and it drove him away.’ He sat on the edge of the sofa, hands squeezing his glass. He was looking at the floor as he spoke. ‘I got the feeling Janice was just waiting for Damon to go. You know, get a place of his own. That’s what she was waiting for.’
‘And then what?’
Brian glanced up at him. ‘Then she’d have no reason to stay. Every time she goes to Edinburgh, I think that’s it: she won’t be back.’
‘But she always comes back.’
He nodded. ‘But it’s different now. She comes back in case Damon’s here. Nothing to do with me.’ He coughed, cleared his throat, drained the whisky. ‘Want a refill?’ Rebus shook his head. ‘No, suppose not. Time for kip, eh?’ Brian got to his feet, managed a smile. ‘Schooldays, eh, Johnny?’
‘Schooldays, Brian,’ Rebus agreed. He watched something brighten behind Brian Mee’s eyes, then die again.
Rebus brushed his teeth in the kitchen — didn’t want to intrude upstairs, not with Brian readying for bed. He laid the blankets out on the sofa. Sat there with the lights out, then got up and went to the window. Peered through the curtains. Outside, the street-lamps cast a faint orange glow. The street itself was empty. He crept into the hall, opened the front door quietly, leaving it on the latch. Five minutes outside told him Cary Oakes wasn’t in the vicinity. He headed back indoors, needed the toilet. The kitchen sink seemed inappropriate, so he listened at the foot of the stairs then headed up. He knew the bathroom door, went in and did his business. One bedroom door was closed, the other slightly open. The open door had a football scarf pinned to it, and half a dozen used concert tickets from a few years before. Rebus pushed his head around the door: saw the outlines of posters, a wardrobe and chest of drawers. Saw the window with the curtains drawn. Saw the single bed, and Janice sleeping in it, her breathing regular.
Crept downstairs again feeling like a housebreaker.
33
Next morning after breakfast, he had a meeting with Damon’s friends.
They came round to the house, while Janice and Brian were out shopping. Joey Haldane was tall and skinny with closely cropped bleached hair and dark bushy eyebrows. He wore all denim — jeans, shirt, jacket — with black Dr Marten shoes. Rebus noticed that his mouth hung open most of the time, as though he had trouble breathing through his nose.
Pete Mathieson was as tall as Joey but a lot broader, the kind of son a farmer would be proud of (and probably exploit). He wore red jogging pants and a blue sweatshirt, Nike trainers with the soles almost rubbed away. They sat on the sofa. Rebus’s sheets and pillow had disappeared upstairs before breakfast, while he’d been soaking in the bath.
‘Thanks for coming,’ Rebus began. Instead of one of the overstuffed armchairs, he was seated on a straight-backed dining chair, planted in the middle of the room. Below him, the boys sank into the sofa. He’d turned his chair so he could straddle it, leaning his arms on its back.
‘I know we’ve talked before, Joey, but I’ve got a couple of back-up questions. So-called because when I think someone’s not playing straight with me, it tends to get my back up.’
Joey wet his lips with his tongue, Pete twitched a shoulder, angled his head and tried to look bored.
‘See,’ Rebus went on, ‘I was told the three of you had gone just that once to Edinburgh for your night out. But now I think I know differently. I think you’d been there before. I think maybe it was a regular thing, which makes me wonder why you’d lie. What is it you’re trying to hide? Remember, this is a missing person investigation. No way you’re not going to be found out.’
‘We haven’t done nothing.’ This from Joey, his voice a hoarse local accent, the sound of carpentry work.
‘Know what a double negative is, Joey?’
‘Should I?’ Holding Rebus’s stare for the briefest of moments.
‘If you say you haven’t done nothing, it means you’ve done something.’
‘I’ve told you, we haven’t done nothing.’
‘You haven’t lied about that night? You hadn’t been to Edinburgh for a night out before...?’
‘We’d been before,’ Pete Mathieson said.
‘Hello there, Pete,’ Rebus said. ‘Thought you’d lost the power of speech for a minute there.’
‘Pete,’ Joey spat, ‘for fuck’s—’
Mathieson gave his friend a look, but when he spoke it was for Rebus’s benefit.
‘We’d been before.’
‘To Guiser’s?’
‘And other places — pubs, clubs.’
‘How often?’
‘Four, five nights.’
‘Without telling your girlfriends?’
‘They thought we were down Kirkcaldy, same as always.’
‘Why not tell them?’
‘That would have spoiled it,’ Joey said, folding his arms. Rebus thought he knew what he meant. It was only an adventure if it was furtive. Men liked to have their little secrets and tell their little lies. They liked a sense of the illicit. All the same, he got the feeling it went further. It was the way Joey was leaning back in the sofa, crossing one ankle over the other. He was thinking of something, something about the nights out, and the thought was making him feel good...
‘Was it just you that was cheating, Joey, or was it all of you?’
Joey’s face grew darker. He turned to his friend.
‘I never said nothing!’ Pete blurted out.
‘He didn’t need to, Joey,’ Rebus said. ‘It’s written on your face.’
Joey wriggled in his seat, less comfortable by the second. Eventually he sat forward, arms on knees. ‘If Alice finds out she’ll kill me.’
So much for the thrill of the illicit.
‘Your secret’s safe with me, Joey. I just need to know what happened that night.’
Joey glanced towards Pete, as though giving him permission to do the talking.
‘Joey met a girl,’ Pete began. ‘Three weeks before. So every time we went across, he hooked up with her.’
‘You weren’t in Guiser’s?’
Joey shook his head. ‘Went back to her flat for an hour.’
‘The plan was,’ Pete explained, ‘we’d all meet up later at Guiser’s.’
‘You weren’t there either?’
Pete shook his head. ‘We were in a pub beforehand, I got chatting to this lassie. I think Damon was a bit bored.’