‘Part of me wishes I had.’
‘Who do you think did it? Has Ishbel’s dad crossed your mind?’
Brinkley raised his head. ‘Crossed my mind... yes. But only for a moment.’
She nodded as if in agreement.
Les Young had a question of his own. ‘Did you see Cruikshank after his release, Roy?’
‘I saw him.’
‘To speak to?’
He shook his head. ‘Saw him with a guy a couple of times, though.’
‘What guy?’
‘Must’ve been a mate of his.’
‘But you didn’t know him?’
‘No.’
‘Probably not local then.’
‘Might’ve been... I don’t know every single person in Banehall. Like you said yourself, too often I’ve got my head stuck in a book.’
‘Can you describe the man?’
‘You’ll know him if you see him,’ Brinkley said, half his mouth forming the beginnings of a smile.
‘How’s that then?’
‘Tattoo all across his neck.’ He touched his own throat to indicate the area. ‘A spider’s web...’
Not wanting to be overheard by Roy Brinkley, they sat in Siobhan’s car.
‘Spider’s-web tattoo,’ she commented.
‘Not the first time it’s come up,’ Les Young informed her. ‘One of the drinkers at the Bane mentioned it. Barman admitted he’d served the guy once, didn’t like the look of him.’
‘No name?’
Young shook his head. ‘Not yet, but we’ll get one.’
‘Someone he met in jail?’
Young didn’t answer; he had a question for her. ‘So what’s this about the Albatross?’
‘Don’t tell me you know the place too?’
‘When I was a teenager in Livingston, if you didn’t go to Lothian Road for your kicks, you might get lucky at the Albatross.’
‘It had a reputation then?’
‘A bad sound system, watered beer and sticky dance floor.’
‘But people still went?’
‘For a while it was the only game in town... some nights, there were more women there than men — women old enough to’ve known better.’
‘So it was a knocking-shop?’
He shrugged. ‘I never got the chance to find out.’
‘Too busy playing bridge,’ she teased.
He ignored this. ‘But I’m intrigued that you know about it.’
‘Did you read in the paper about those skeletons?’
He smiled. ‘I didn’t need to: plenty of gossip flying around the station. It’s not often Dr Curt screws up.’
‘He didn’t screw up.’ She paused. ‘And even if he did, they fooled me too.’
‘How so?’
‘I covered the baby with my jacket.’
‘The plastic baby?’
‘Half covered in earth and cement...’
He held up his hands in surrender. ‘I still don’t see the connection.’
‘It’s thin,’ she agreed. ‘The man who runs the pub, he used to own the Albatross.’
‘Coincidence?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘But you’ll talk to him again, in case he knew Ishbel?’
‘Might do.’
Young sighed. ‘Leaving us with the tattooed man and not much else.’
‘It’s more than we had an hour ago.’
‘I suppose so.’ He stared out across the car park. ‘How come Banehall doesn’t have a decent café?’
‘We could nip up the M8 to Harthill.’
‘Why? What’s at Harthill?’
‘Motorway services.’
‘I did say decent, didn’t I?’
‘Just a suggestion...’ Siobhan decided to stare out through the windscreen too.
‘All right then,’ Young eventually conceded. ‘You drive, and the drinks are on me.’
‘Deal,’ she said, starting the car.
23
Rebus was back at George Square, standing outside Dr Maybury’s office. He could hear voices within, which didn’t stop him knocking.
‘Enter!’
He opened the door and peered in. It was a tutorial, eight sleepy-looking faces arranged around the table. He smiled at Maybury. ‘Mind if I speak to you for a minute?’
She let her spectacles slip from her nose, to dangle from a cord just above her chest. Stood up without saying anything, managed to squeeze through what gaps there were between chairs and wall. She closed the door behind her and exhaled loudly.
‘I’m really sorry to bother you again,’ Rebus began to apologise.
‘No, it’s not that.’ She pinched the bridge of her nose.
‘Bit of a dippy group?’
‘I’ll never know why we bother to hold tutorials this early on a Monday.’ She stretched her neck to left and right. ‘Sorry — not your problem. Any luck tracing the woman from Senegal?’
‘Well, that’s why I’m here...’
‘Yes?’
‘Our latest theory is that she might know some of the students.’ Rebus paused. ‘Actually, she could even be a student.’
‘Oh?’
‘Well, what I was wondering was... how do I go about finding out for sure? I know it’s not your territory, but if you could point me in the right direction...’
Maybury thought for a moment. ‘Registry office would be your best bet.’
‘And where’s that?’
‘Old College.’
‘Opposite Thin’s Bookshop?’
She smiled. ‘Been a while since you bought any books, Inspector? Thin’s went bust; it’s run by Blackwell’s now.’
‘But that’s where Old College is?’
She nodded. ‘Sorry for the pedantry.’
‘Will they talk to me, do you think?’
‘The only people they ever see down there are students who’ve lost their matric cards. You’ll be like some exotic new species to them. Walk across Bristo Square and take the underpass. You can get into Old College from West College Street.’
‘I think I knew that, but thanks anyway.’
‘You know what I’m doing?’ she seemed to realise. ‘I’m yacking away to postpone the inevitable.’ She glanced at her wristwatch. ‘Forty minutes still to go...’
Rebus made a show of listening at the door. ‘Sounds like they’ve dropped off anyway. Be a shame to wake them.’
‘Linguistics waits for no man, Inspector,’ Maybury said, stiffening her spine. ‘Once more unto the fray.’ She took a deep breath and opened the door.
Disappeared inside.
As he walked, Rebus called Whitemire and asked to be put through to Traynor.
‘I’m sorry, Mr Traynor’s not available.’
‘Is that you, Janet?’ There was silence for a moment.
‘Speaking,’ Janet Eylot said.
‘Janet, it’s DI Rebus here. Look, I’m sorry you’ve had my colleagues bothering you. If I can help at all, just let me know.’
‘Thank you, Inspector.’
‘So what’s up with your boss? Don’t tell me he’s off with stress.’
‘He just doesn’t want any interruptions this morning.’
‘Fine, but can you try him for me? Tell him I wouldn’t take no for an answer.’
She took her time replying. ‘Very well,’ she said at last. A few moments later, Traynor picked up.
‘Look, I’m up to my eyes...’
‘Aren’t we all?’ Rebus sympathised. ‘I was just wondering if you’d run those checks for me.’
‘What checks?’
‘Kurds and French-speaking Africans, bailed from Whitemire.’
Traynor sighed. ‘There aren’t any.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Positive. Now, was that all you were wanting?’
‘For now,’ Rebus said. The call was disconnected before the final word had died away. Rebus stared at his mobile, decided it wasn’t worth making a nuisance of himself. He had his answer after all.