‘Which makes it imperative,’ James said, ‘that we redouble our efforts. Sean, how are we getting on with those DIY stores and hardware shops?’
‘Biggest ones are all done. Staff are checking their recordings and even till receipts.’
‘That could take a while.’
Glancey nodded. ‘And I’m on to the fourth hardware shop on my list.’
‘Good man,’ James said. ‘Wallace?’
‘Door-to-door is about ready to go.’ The room fell silent so Sharpe could be heard. ‘Took a while to conjure up the bodies. There are a couple left over, and that’ll comprise our search team until I can drum up more help. I’ll be heading out there in about ten minutes.’
‘Thanks,’ James said. ‘How about you, Anne?’
‘Tracking down the victim’s friends and associates just got that bit harder. We could do with a search warrant for home and business premises, see if his computer is any help.’
‘I’ll sort it.’ James turned to Mark Oldfield, who was busy at the kettle. ‘You okay to help out with the doorstepping?’
‘Sure,’ Oldfield said, not quite managing to look enthusiastic.
‘There’ll be a café somewhere on the route,’ Fox teased him.
‘How about you, Malcolm?’ James butted in. ‘Managing to keep busy?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Feel like applying for those search warrants?’ Fox nodded and watched as Alvin James started clapping, his eyes taking in his team. ‘All right then, people, let’s get going. The crime may have changed but the investigation hasn’t.’ He turned towards Clarke. ‘You know the pathologist, don’t you? Find out how soon she can do the autopsy.’
‘Easiest thing is to ask in person. If she’s in the autopsy suite, her phone will be off.’
‘Do that, then.’
Clarke kept her eyes averted from Fox as she made her escape. Striding towards her car, she called Rebus and pressed the phone to her ear.
‘Thought I’d be hearing from you,’ he muttered.
‘What happened?’
‘I was just talking to the man, Siobhan.’
Clarke got into her car and put the phone on speaker while she turned the key in the ignition and fastened her seat belt. ‘Having sneaked past Christine while she was in the loo?’
‘You can’t go blaming her.’
‘I don’t blame her.’ Clarke checked the road was clear and moved off. ‘It’s you I’m furious with.’
‘All I did was tell him we were going after Cafferty big time, with his help or without.’
‘And?’
‘He said he’d kill him if he said anything.’
‘Who’d kill him?’
‘What?’
‘Who’d kill him?’ she repeated. ‘Cafferty?’
‘Well, yes, obviously.’ But Rebus didn’t sound sure. ‘How’s James handling it?’
‘Very competently. He’s got everyone working flat out.’
‘Present company excepted?’
‘I’m on my way to the mortuary.’
‘To chivvy Deb into fast-tracking the autopsy? Reckon there’s a chance we can pin culpable homicide on Big Ger?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. So where are you now?’
‘Five minutes from the Cowgate.’
‘You’re going to see Deborah?’
‘That was the plan — great minds and all that.’
‘John... for us to have even the slimmest hope of nabbing Cafferty, everything has to be done by the book.’
‘No argument here.’
‘You’re not a police officer.’
‘I’m not sure why people think they need to keep reminding me. How long till you arrive?’
‘Ten, twelve minutes.’
‘I’ll be in the car park.’
The phone went dead as Clarke pulled out to overtake a bus.
‘Fourteen minutes,’ Rebus said, making show of checking his watch. Clarke had parked next to his Saab. She could see the regulation black vans but no sign of Deborah Quant’s car.
‘She’s not here,’ Rebus confirmed. ‘I already asked. Teaching a class at the uni. Should be done in an hour or so, though. We could grab a coffee.’
‘Where?’
‘Caffè Nero at Blackwell’s,’ he suggested. Clarke shook her head.
‘I meant what I said — think how you’d feel if we got Cafferty to trial and a technicality scuppered us.’
‘The technicality being me?’ Rebus nodded slowly. ‘You know best, Siobhan. With me, it’s always been about the outcome rather than the process.’
‘Which is why you’ve lost a few along the way.’
‘I can’t just walk away.’
‘Not even for a day?’
Rebus shook his head slowly, trying for a contrite look and failing. Clarke puffed out her cheeks and studied the tarmac, rubbing the sole of one shoe against it.
‘You sure about that coffee?’ he asked.
‘She’s coming here after the lecture?’
‘Almost certainly.’
‘Are we walking to the café?’
‘Have you seen the hill it’s up?’ Rebus responded.
‘My car or yours?’
‘More room in mine.’
She looked towards the Saab. ‘There’s also half a chance it won’t make it to the top.’ Her phone was buzzing. ‘James,’ she told Rebus as she made to answer.
‘Yes, Alvin?’
‘Are you with Professor Quant?’
‘She won’t be here for a bit.’ Clarke paused. ‘You sound—’
‘We might just have struck lucky,’ James blurted out. ‘Had to happen eventually.’
‘Oh?’
‘Are you going to hang around there or do you want to join the party?’
‘I’ll be there in fourteen minutes,’ she said, ending the call.
James and his team were readying to brief a lawyer from the Procurator Fiscal’s office. The Fiscal Depute’s name was Shona MacBryer. MacBryer knew Clarke, and the two shared a nod of greeting as she arrived. Fox and Oldfield were handing round mugs. Someone had splashed out on a cafetière and proper coffee, and the biscuits were Duchy Originals. Nothing but the best for MacBryer, not when they were about to try persuading her they had a locked-down case requiring only her thumbs-up before the arrest was made.
‘A hardware shop on Leith Walk,’ James was saying. He was seated directly in front of MacBryer’s chair, having hoisted himself on to his desk, hands on knees. With his legs spread, his crotch was at eye level, a fact he seemed unaware of but which had caused MacBryer to twist her mouth in displeasure. ‘The owner had a man come in yesterday afternoon — well dressed, in his sixties, shaven head. A hefty bloke, three-quarter-length black coat and black leather gloves. Didn’t hang about, knew exactly what he wanted — two nice big claw hammers and a dozen six-inch nails, same number we retrieved from the boxing club. So DS Glancey sends the shopkeeper a file photo of Morris Gerald Cafferty and the shopkeeper says he’s sure it’s the same man.’
MacBryer had opened an iPad, preparing to take notes. ‘This would be easier at a desk,’ she said.
‘Take Malcolm’s.’
MacBryer thanked him and shifted to Fox’s chair, James shoving all Fox’s paperwork to one side. James sat on his own chair and was preparing to continue his speech when MacBryer held up a finger to stop him.
‘Can I just clarify — the shopkeeper has only been spoken to by phone so far.’
‘DS Sharpe is fetching him here — shouldn’t be much longer.’
‘So a man who may or may not be Mr Cafferty buys two hammers and some nails. Do you have a forensic report?’
‘Not as yet,’ James admitted.
‘If gloves were worn...’
James nodded his understanding. ‘But there may be DNA at the scene. Forensics have given the floor a thorough swabbing, lifted all sorts of bits and pieces.’