‘Oh, you’ve always been known for your reticence.’
‘I don’t mind telling stories... bit of repartee at the bar. But Oakes... I don’t know. It’s not the stories themselves that interest him so much as what they say about the people involved.’ He picked up his drink. There were three empty glasses beside it. He’d decanted all the lemon slices into the most recent arrival. ‘That probably makes no sense. I don’t care: I’m off duty.’
‘So are you finished with him?’
Stevens smacked his lips. ‘I’d say we’re getting there. The question is: is he finished with me?’
Rebus took out a cigarette and lit it, offered one to the reporter. ‘He’s been tailing me, people I know.’
‘What for?’
‘Maybe he wants another story for you.’ Rebus moved closer. ‘Listen, off the record, just two old bastards talking...’
Stevens blinked away some of the alcohol. ‘Yes?’
‘Has he said anything about Deirdre Campbell?’ Stevens couldn’t place the name. ‘Alan Archibald’s niece.’
‘Oh, right.’ An exaggerated nod, face dipping towards the gin glass, then a frown of concentration. ‘He did say something about clear-up rates. Said that’s what happened when they pinned you for something: they tried to tidy away a few unsolveds by sweeping them into your case-file.’
Rebus had eased himself on to a stool. ‘He didn’t mention specifics?’
‘You think there’s something I’ve missed?’
Rebus was thoughtful. ‘You’ve said it yourself: you think he’s using you.’
‘By putting clues in his story that I’m not going to get? Give me a bit of credit.’
‘He likes games,’ Rebus hissed. ‘That’s all we are to him.’
‘Not me, pal. I’m his sugar daddy.’
‘Sugar daddies get cheated on.’
‘John...’ Stevens sat up straight, took a reviving lungful of air. ‘This story’s put me back on the map. I got to him first. Me, washed-up old Jim Stevens, gold-watch contestant. Even if he buggered off tonight, I’d have the best part of a book’s-worth.’ He nodded to himself, eyes on the glass he was picking up. Rebus found himself not believing the reporter. ‘See, when I make a toast these days,’ Stevens went on, raising his glass, ‘it’s only ever to Number One. As far as I’m concerned, pal, the rest of you can go straight to hell, no Just Visiting and no Free Parking.’ He drank, drained the glass dry.
He was ordering another as Rebus made for the door.
35
When Rebus left Patience’s next morning, she was out on the patio, discussing with two workmen how best to clean the paint off the flagstones. As he walked into St Leonard’s and made for the CID suite, he could feel that something had happened. There was activity around him and the air felt charged. Siobhan Clarke was first with the news.
‘Joanna Horman’s lover.’ She handed Rebus a report. ‘He’s dirty.’
Rebus glanced down the sheet. The lover’s name was Ray Heggie. He’d done time for housebreaking and assorted acts of drunken violence. He was ten years older than Joanna. He’d been living with her for six weeks.
‘Roy Frazer’s got him in the interview room.’
‘How come?’ Rebus handed back the report.
‘A previous girlfriend of Heggie’s. She read about the kid going missing, phoned to tell us he’d abused her little girl. That was why they broke up.’
‘She didn’t think to tell us before?’
Clarke shrugged. ‘She’s told us now.’
Rebus twitched his nose. ‘How old’s the girl?’
‘Eleven. Someone from Sex Offences is talking to her at home.’ She looked at him. ‘You’re not buying it, are you?’
‘Caveat emptor, Siobhan. I’ll decide after the test drive.’ He winked, moved away. An old girlfriend with a grudge, probably all it was. Saw a chance to make mischief... All the same, if Heggie was an abuser, maybe he’d known Darren Rough. Rebus knocked on the interview room door.
‘Detective Inspector Rebus enters the room,’ Frazer said, for the benefit of the recording tape. He was following procedure: audio- and video-taping. ‘Hi-Ho’ Silvers sat beside him at one side of the table, arms folded, looking unimpressed by everything he’d heard. That was Silvers’s role: say nothing, but make the suspect uncomfortable. Across the table sat a man in his forties, black curly hair with a pronounced bald spot. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. His eyes were dark-ringed. He wore a black T-shirt, and ran his hands over thickly haired arms.
‘Join the party,’ was his comment to Rebus. The room was so small, Rebus stood by the wall, folding his own arms and preparing to listen.
‘The locals organised a search party,’ Frazer went on, ‘you weren’t part of it. How come?’
‘I wasn’t there.’
‘Where were you?’
‘Glasgow. I went out drinking with a mate, stayed the night at his place. Ask him, he’ll tell you.’
‘I’m sure he will. Mates are good that way, aren’t they?’
‘It’s the truth.’
Frazer scribbled a note to himself. ‘You went out drinking, that means there’ll be witnesses.’ He looked up from his notebook. ‘So name me some.’
‘Give me a break. Look, the pubs were all dead, so we got a carry-out and went back to his flat. Sat watching some videos.’
‘Anything good?’
‘Top-shelf stuff.’ Heggie winked. Frazer just glared back.
‘Porn?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘Straight?’
‘I’m not a poof.’ Heggie stopped rubbing his arms.
‘I meant, was there any lezzie action?’
‘Might have been.’
‘Bondage? Animals? Kids?’
Heggie saw where this was leading. ‘I’m not into any of that, I’ve told you.’
‘Your ex says different.’
‘That slut’d say anything. Wait till I see her...’
‘Anything happens to her, Mr Heggie, if she so much as catches a cold, I’ll have you back in here. Understood?’
‘I didn’t mean anything. It’s just a saying, isn’t it? But she’s been slagging me off, telling people I’ve got AIDS, you name it. Vindictive, she is. Any chance of a cuppa?’
Frazer made a show of checking his watch. ‘We’ll take a break in five minutes.’ Rebus had to stifle a smile, knowing they’d only break when Frazer was good and ready. ‘You’ve got a record of violence, Mr Heggie. My thinking is: you lost patience with the kid, didn’t mean to hurt him. But a valve blew, and next thing you knew he was dead.’
‘No.’
‘So you had to hide him somewhere.’
‘No. I keep telling you—’
‘Where is he then? How come he goes missing and you turn out to have a record of hurting kids?’
‘All you’ve got is Belinda’s word for it!’ Belinda: the ex. ‘I’m telling you, get a doctor to look at Fliss.’ Fliss: the ex’s daughter. ‘And even if it turns out someone’s been poking her, no way it was me. No fucking way. Ask her.’ He scratched at his hair with one hand.
‘We’re doing that, Mr Heggie.’
‘And if she says I did anything, her mum’s put her up to it.’ He was growing more agitated. ‘I don’t believe this, really I don’t.’ He shook his head. ‘You lot told Joanna. Now what’s she going to think?’
‘Why do you always shack up with single mothers?’
Heggie raised his eyes to the ceiling. ‘Tell me this is a bad dream.’
Frazer, who’d been resting his arms on the table, now sat back, glanced towards Rebus. It was the signal Rebus had been waiting for. It meant Frazer was finished for the moment.