‘Help ye?’ he snapped.
‘Bottle of your best champagne, please,’ Rebus said.
‘If ye want fizz, we’ve got cider and lager.’
‘Both of them fine substitutes.’ Rebus held out the two photos. ‘Care to take a look?’
‘What for?’
‘Because I’m asking nicely — for the moment.’
The barman glared at him, but then decided to at least glance at the head shots. ‘Don’t know them.’
‘Now there’s a surprise.’
‘You buying a drink or leaving me in peace?’
‘I didn’t know I’d walked into a quiz show.’ Rebus turned the photos towards the two pint-drinkers. ‘Help me out here,’ he said, watching as they shook their heads.
‘Craw Shand,’ he persisted. ‘He drinks in here sometimes, when he’s not at Templeton’s or the Wrigley. Places like this make him feel right at home.’ He focused his attention back on the barman. ‘His home’s a shithole, by the way.’
‘I want the three of you out.’
‘Maybe you should call the police.’
‘Come to think of it, where’s your ID?’
Fox had started reaching into his pocket, but Rebus stopped him. ‘We don’t humour wankers like him,’ he explained. Then, to the two drinkers: ‘You’ll want to see the rating we give this place on TripAdvisor. Thanks for your help, gentlemen...’
He led Fox and Clarke back to the door, opening it and ushering them through. ‘The famous John Rebus charm,’ Clarke said. ‘It never ever fails.’
‘Just you wait,’ Rebus said, slipping his hands into his pockets and looking content to stand his ground.
‘What is it we’re waiting for?’
‘My instincts to be proved right.’
Ten seconds later, the door behind them reopened, one of the pair of customers stepping outside. Rebus gave him a nod and the man held up a cigarette, asking if he had a light. Rebus took a box of matches from his pocket.
‘Keep them,’ he said.
‘That’s very kind.’
Rebus turned to Fox. ‘You got a twenty on you?’
Fox frowned, then dug into his right-hand trouser pocket. Rebus plucked the note from his hand and gave it to the man, who offered a grin, showing yellow teeth. With cigarette lit, he commenced to suck the life from it.
‘Craw hasn’t been around for a few days,’ he said as he exhaled smoke. ‘Bugger owes me, too.’
‘Why’s that?’ Rebus asked.
‘The phone rang and Alfie was busy changing barrels, so I picked up. Man on the other end was looking for Craw.’ He cast a glance back at the door, checking it was tightly closed. ‘Said it would be worth his while to still be here around midnight.’
‘And you passed on the message?’
The smoker nodded. ‘Craw said he’d stand me a drink just as soon as he had some spare cash.’
‘I don’t suppose you stuck around?’
‘Ah, no. I turn into a pumpkin at midnight.’
‘Did the caller give his name?’
‘Not that I remember.’ Having pocketed the matches, the man had brought out his pack of cigarettes, making the offer to Rebus.
‘I won’t,’ Rebus said.
‘You’re not a smoker?’
‘I’m trying to quit. Relieving me of those matches has been a big help.’ He patted the man’s shoulder and turned to leave. The offer of a smoke was still there, but Clarke and Fox shook their heads and made to follow.
Back in the Saab, Rebus studied both photographs as he thought things through.
‘Fine,’ Fox said. ‘Your hunch was right and Rab Chatham met with Craw Shand.’
‘So Chatham attacked Christie?’ Clarke added. ‘And Christie retaliated by having him killed?’
‘Doesn’t quite add up, does it?’ Rebus conceded.
‘Someone must have arranged it and paid Chatham to do it,’ Fox went on. ‘When you walked up to him that night, you spooked him. He wanted someone else to take the fall, and he knew Craw’s reputation.’
‘But Chatham wouldn’t be enough to satisfy Darryl,’ Clarke added. ‘He’d want to know who was really behind it. Did Chatham die before he could talk?’
‘No sign he was tortured,’ Fox said. ‘Just the whisky and then drowned.’
‘I thought it had something to do with the Turquand case,’ Rebus said quietly. ‘I was walking the wrong bloody trail all the time — so much for a copper’s nose.’
‘Do we talk to Arnott again?’ Fox asked. ‘He has to be part of it. Chatham spoke to him only minutes before he headed to the call box.’
‘Maybe in the morning,’ Rebus agreed. ‘Right now, I think we all need a bit of a break. Well, I know I do — I’m not like you young things.’
‘Some food would hit the spot,’ Fox said.
‘I’d be up for that,’ Clarke added.
‘Better be your shout, Siobhan,’ Rebus said. ‘Malcolm’s already down twenty quid.’
‘Aye, thanks for that,’ Fox muttered.
‘Fair’s fair,’ Rebus told him. ‘Name your restaurant and I’ll drop you off — cheaper than a taxi.’
‘You’re not joining us?’
‘Watching my weight, remember?’ Rebus patted his stomach.
‘I’m starting to worry now,’ Clarke said, turning towards Fox to see if he agreed. But he was staring out of the window, avoiding eye contact.
‘John,’ she said quietly. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘Not tonight, Siobhan,’ Rebus said, lowering his own voice to match hers. ‘Not tonight.’
Kenny Arnott started switching off the lights. Donny Applecross had been the last to leave. Arnott liked that. The kid had attitude — attitude, focus and stamina. If he didn’t get hurt, he would manage a few years in the cage-fight game. He wasn’t as wily as some, and he needed to bulk up a bit, but that was something they could work on.
It was dark outside now, Arnott’s favourite time of the day, as he switched from gym owner to security fixer. He had fourteen guys on duty tonight. It would have been fifteen if Rab hadn’t got stupid. Still, best not to dwell — that was what Arnott’s mum had always said when there was bad news, didn’t matter if it was close to home or half a world away. Best not to dwell. He had a mind to take a drive, stop off and chew the fat with a few of his guys, just to remind them he was looking out for them. Then again, his girlfriend was waiting for him in the flat. The flat was new, and so was Anna. He’d already bought her too many clothes and too much perfume. What the hell else was he going to do? She deserved it, and she was always grateful. He wasn’t so sure about her mates. They were loud and always talking about stuff he didn’t understand — singers and actors, TV shows and celebrities. But then Anna was almost half his age. Stood to reason he’d be out of the loop some of the time. And one or two of her besties... well, he wouldn’t say no.
With only one of the overhead strip lights still on, he readied to set the alarm. Not that there was much worth nicking, but the insurance had insisted. But someone was knocking on the door. Had Donny or one of the others forgotten something? They wouldn’t knock, though. Those cops again? One way to find out...
The figure filled the doorway, silhouetted against the sodium street lighting. The arm swung down and Arnott staggered back at the impact of hammer against skull. His vision blurred and his knees went from under him. He was pushing himself to his feet when the hammer connected again. Gloved hands. Three-quarter-length black coat. A domed head above it all, the lips parted, showing teeth. Arnott held up his hands in a show of surrender. The door had been kicked closed. He could feel blood trickling down his forehead. He blinked it out of his eyes.
‘Know who I am?’ the giant said, his voice like earth filling a pit.