Bullen opened his arms. ‘I’m a popular man.’
‘And that’s why you’re going to be with us for quite some time, Mr Bullen,’ Storey said. ‘So make yourself comfortable...’
Forty minutes in, they took a break. The detained cockle-pickers were being held at St Leonard’s, the only place with enough cells to take them all. Storey headed off to a telephone, to check on progress with the interviews. Rebus and Davidson had just got their hands on a tea apiece when Siobhan and Young found them.
‘Do we get to talk to him now?’ Siobhan asked.
‘We’ll be going back in soon,’ Davidson told her.
‘But all he’s doing right now is kicking his heels,’ Les Young argued.
Davidson sighed, and Rebus knew what he was thinking: anything for a quiet life. ‘How long do you need?’ he asked.
‘We’ll take what you can give us.’
‘On you go then...’
Young turned to leave, but Rebus touched his elbow.
‘Mind if I tag along, just out of interest?’
Siobhan gave Young a warning look, but he nodded anyway. Siobhan turned on her heels and started striding towards the interview room, so that neither man could see her face.
Bullen had his hands clasped behind his head. When he saw Rebus’s tea, he asked where his own was.
‘In the kettle,’ Rebus replied, as Siobhan and Young began to introduce themselves.
‘You’re taking it in shifts?’ Bullen growled, lowering his hands.
‘Good tea this,’ Rebus chipped in. The look he received from Siobhan told him she found the contribution not altogether helpful.
‘We’re here to ask you about a piece of homemade pornography,’ Les Young kicked off.
Bullen let out a laugh. ‘The sublime to the ridiculous.’
‘It was found in the home of a murder victim,’ Siobhan added coolly. ‘Some of the performers might be known to you.’
‘How’s that then?’ Bullen seemed genuinely curious.
‘I recognised at least one of them.’ Siobhan had folded her arms. ‘She was pole-dancing that time I visited your premises with Detective Inspector Rebus.’
‘News to me,’ Bullen offered with a shrug. ‘But girls come and go... I’m not their grandma, they’re free to do what they like.’ He leaned across the table towards Siobhan. ‘Found that missing girl yet?’
‘No,’ she admitted.
‘But the guy got himself topped, didn’t he, the one who raped her sister?’ When she made no answer, he shrugged again. ‘I read the papers, same as anyone else.’
‘That’s whose house the film was found in,’ Les Young added.
‘I still don’t see how I’m supposed to help.’ Bullen turned to Rebus, as if for advice.
‘Did you know Donny Cruikshank?’ Siobhan asked.
Bullen turned back to her. ‘Never heard of him till I saw the murder in the paper.’
‘He couldn’t have visited your club?’
‘Course he could — there are times I’m not around... Barney’s the one to ask.’
‘The barman?’ Siobhan said.
Bullen nodded. ‘Or you could always ask Immigration... they seem to’ve been keeping a pretty close watch.’ He smiled unconvincingly. ‘Hope they took care to catch my good side.’
‘You mean you’ve got one?’ Siobhan asked. Bullen’s smile vanished. He glanced at his watch. It looked expensive: chunky and gold.
‘We about done here?’
‘Not by a long chalk,’ Les Young commented. But the door was opening, Felix Storey entering the room, followed by Shug Davidson.
‘The gang’s all here!’ Bullen exclaimed. ‘If the Nook was this busy, I’d be retiring to Gran Canaria...’
‘Time’s up,’ Storey was telling Young. ‘We need him again.’
Les Young looked to Siobhan. She was producing some polaroids from her pocket, spreading them across the table in front of Bullen.
‘You know her,’ she said, stabbing one with her finger. ‘What about the others?’
‘Faces don’t always mean a lot to me,’ he said, looking her up and down. ‘It’s bodies I tend to remember.’
‘She’s one of your dancers.’
‘Yeah,’ he admitted at last. ‘She is. What of it?’
‘I’d like to talk to her.’
‘She’s got a shift this evening, as it happens...’ He looked at his watch again. ‘Always supposing Barney can open up.’
Storey was shaking his head. ‘Not until we’ve searched the place.’
Bullen gave a sigh. ‘In that case,’ he told Siobhan, ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘You must have an address for her... a phone number.’
‘The girls like to be discreet... I might have a mobile somewhere.’ He nodded towards Storey. ‘Ask nicely and he might find it for you when he’s ransacking the premises.’
‘Not necessary,’ Rebus said. He’d walked over to the table to study the photos. Now he picked up the one of the dancer. ‘I know her,’ he said. ‘Know where she lives, too.’ Siobhan stared at him in disbelief. ‘Name’s Kate.’ He looked down at Bullen. ‘That’s right, isn’t it?’
‘Kate, yeah,’ Bullen admitted grudgingly. ‘Likes to dance a bit, does Kate.’
He said it almost wistfully.
‘You handled him well,’ Rebus said. He was in the passenger seat, Siobhan driving. Les Young had left them to it, needing to get back to Banehall. Rebus was sifting through the polaroids again.
‘How so?’ she eventually asked.
‘Someone like Bullen, you have to be straight with them. They clam shut otherwise.’
‘He didn’t give us much.’
‘He’d have given young Leslie a lot less.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Christ, Shiv, accept some praise for once in your life!’
‘I’m looking for the ulterior motive.’
‘You won’t find one.’
‘That would be a first...’
They were heading for Pollock Halls. On the way out to the car, Rebus had filled her in on how he knew Kate.
‘Should have recognised her,’ he’d said, shaking his head. ‘All that music in her room.’
‘Call yourself a detective,’ Siobhan had teased him. Then: ‘Might have helped if she’d just been wearing a thong.’
They were on Dalkeith Road now, a stone’s throw from St Leonard’s with its cells full of cockle-pickers. Nothing as yet had come of the questioning — or nothing that Felix Storey was willing to share. Siobhan signalled left into Holyrood Park Road, and right into Pollock. Andy Edmunds was still manning the barrier. He crouched down by the open window.
‘Back again so soon?’ he asked.
‘A few more questions for Kate,’ Rebus explained.
‘You’re too late — saw her heading out on her bike.’
‘How long ago?’
‘No more than five minutes...’
Rebus turned to Siobhan. ‘She’s on her way to her shift.’
Siobhan nodded. No way Kate could know they’d pulled in Stuart Bullen. Rebus gave Edmunds a wave as Siobhan executed a three-point turn. She ignored the red light at Dalkeith Road, horns sounding all around her.
‘I need to fix a siren to this car,’ she muttered. ‘Reckon we’ll beat her to the Nook?’
‘No, but that doesn’t mean we won’t catch her — she’s going to want an explanation.’
‘Are any of Storey’s men there?’
‘No idea,’ Rebus admitted. They had passed St Leonard’s and were heading for the Cowgate and the Grassmarket. It took Rebus some moments to work out what Siobhan already knew: this was the quickest route.
But also prone to tailbacks. More horns sounded, headlights alerting them to several illegal and bad-mannered manoeuvres.