Greenlaw frowned, nodding at the same time. Siobhan shifted some paperwork from a chair. ‘I want to ask you about one of Lex Cater’s parties,’ she said.
‘Which one?’
‘About a year ago. It was the one with the skeletons.’
‘Well... I was just about to say that no one ever remembers anything about Lex’s little gatherings — not with the amount of booze we get through — but I do remember that one. At least, I remember the skeleton.’ She winced. ‘Bastard didn’t tell me it was real till after I’d kissed it.’
‘You kissed it?’
‘For a dare.’ She paused. ‘After about ten glasses of champagne... There was a baby, too.’ She winced again. ‘I remember now.’
‘You remember who else was there?’
‘Usual crowd probably. What’s this all about?’
‘The skeletons went missing after the party.’
‘Did they?’
‘Lex never said?’
Pippa shook her head. Close up, her face was covered in freckles, which her tan only partially concealed. ‘I thought he’d just got rid of them.’
‘You had a partner with you that night.’
‘I’m never short of partners, darling.’
The door opened and Lindquist’s head appeared. ‘Pippa?’ he said. ‘My office in five?’
‘No problem, Bill.’
‘And the meeting this afternoon...?’
Greenlaw shrugged. ‘Absolutely fine, Bill, just as you said.’
He smiled and retreated again. Siobhan wondered if there was actually a body attached to the head and neck; maybe the rest of him was wires and metal. She waited a moment before speaking. ‘He must’ve heard you when you came in, or is his room sound-proofed?’
‘Bill only hears good news, that’s his golden rule... Why are you asking about Lex’s party?’
‘The skeletons have turned up again — in a cellar in Fleshmarket Close.’
Greenlaw’s eyes widened. ‘I heard about that on the radio!’
‘What did you think?’
‘Had to be a publicity stunt — that was my first reaction.’
‘They were hidden under a concrete floor.’
‘But dug up again.’
‘They lay there the best part of a year...’
‘Evidence of forward planning...’ But Greenlaw sounded less sure. ‘I still don’t see what this has to do with me.’ She leaned forward, elbows on her desk. There was nothing else there but a slim silver laptop: no printer or trailing wires.
‘You were with someone. Lex reckons he might have taken the skeletons.’
Greenlaw’s whole face creased. ‘Who was I with?’
‘That’s what I was hoping you might tell me. Lex seems to remember he was a footballer.’
‘A footballer?’
‘That’s how you met him...’
Greenlaw was thoughtful. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever... no, wait, there was one guy.’ She angled her head towards heaven, revealing a slender neck. ‘He wasn’t a real footballer... played for some amateur side. Christ, what was his name?’ Triumphantly, her eyes met Siobhan’s. ‘Barry.’
‘Barry?’
‘Or Gary... something like that.’
‘You must know a lot of men.’
‘Not that many at all, really. But plenty of forgettables like Barry-or-Gary.’
‘Does he have a surname?’
‘I probably never knew it.’
‘Where did you meet him?’
Greenlaw tried to think back. ‘Almost certainly in a bar... maybe at a party or some launch for a client.’ She smiled in apology. ‘It was a one-nighter; he was good-looking enough to be my date. Actually, I think I do remember him. I reckoned he might shock Lex.’
‘Shock him how?’
‘You know... a bit of rough.’
‘And how rough was he?’
‘Christ, I don’t mean he was a biker or anything. He was just a bit more...’ She sought the right word. ‘More of a prole than I’d normally have hooked up with.’
She gave another shrug of apology and leaned back in her chair, rocking it slightly, fingertips pressed together.
‘Any idea where he came from? Where he lived? How he earned a living?’
‘I seem to remember he had a flat in Corstorphine... not that I saw it. He was...’ She screwed shut her eyes for a moment. ‘No, I can’t remember what he did. Flashed the cash around though.’
‘What did he look like?’
‘Bleached hair with dark highlights. Wiry, willing to show off his six-pack... Plenty of energy in bed, but no finesse. Not over-endowed either.’
‘That’s probably enough to be going on with.’
The two women shared a smile.
‘Seems like a lifetime ago,’ Greenlaw commented.
‘You haven’t seen him since?’
‘No.’
‘And you don’t happen to’ve kept his phone number?’
‘Every New Year, I make a little funeral pyre of all those scraps of paper... you know the ones — the numbers and initials, people you’ll never call again; some you’re not sure you ever knew in the first place. All those ghastly, garish fucking hypocrites who grab your bum on the dance floor or slip a hand around your tit at a party and assume that PR means Patently Rogerable...’ Greenlaw let out a groan.
‘This meeting you’ve just come from, Pippa... anything to drink, perchance?’
‘Just champagne.’
‘And you drove back here in the Porsche?’
‘Oh, Christ, are you planning to breathalyse me, officer?’
‘Actually, I’m quietly impressed: it’s taken me till now to notice.’
‘Thing about champagne is, it always makes me so bloody thirsty.’ She examined her watch. ‘Fancy joining me?’
‘Zara’s got some coffee going spare,’ Siobhan countered.
Greenlaw made a face. ‘I’ve got to talk to Bill, but that’s me finished for the day.’
‘Lucky you.’
Greenlaw stuck out her bottom lip. ‘What about later?’
‘I’ll let you into a secret: Lex is going to be at the Opal Lounge at nine.’
‘Is he?’
‘I’m sure he’d buy you a drink.’
‘But that’s hours away,’ Greenlaw protested.
‘Tough it out,’ Siobhan advised, rising to her feet. ‘And thanks for talking to me.’
She was ready to leave, but Greenlaw gestured for her to sit down again. She started rummaging in the desk drawers, finally producing a pad of paper and a biro.
‘That gun you were talking about,’ she said, ‘what was it called again...?’
At Knoxland, the Portakabin was being lifted by crane on to the back of a lorry. Heads were at windows, the tower-block residents watching the manoeuvre. More graffiti had been added to the Portakabin since Rebus’s last visit, its window had been smashed further, and someone had tried setting fire to its door.
‘And the roof,’ Shug Davidson added for Rebus’s benefit. ‘Lighter fluid, newspapers and an old car tyre.’
‘That amazes me.’
‘What does?’
‘Newspapers — you mean someone in Knoxland actually reads?’
Davidson’s smile was short-lived. He folded his arms. ‘I wonder sometimes why we bother.’
As he spoke, Gareth Baird was being led from the nearest tower block by the same two uniforms. All three looked numb with exhaustion.
‘Nothing?’ Davidson asked. One of the uniforms shook his head.
‘Forty or fifty flats, we got no answer.’
‘No way I’m coming back!’ Gareth complained.
‘You will if we want you to,’ Rebus warned him.
‘Should we drop him home?’ the uniform asked.
As Rebus shook his head, his eyes were on Gareth. ‘Nothing wrong with the bus. There’s one every half-hour.’