“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Well, Fenella, that’s not strictly true,” Rebus told her. “For a start, it didn’t seem to come out at the time that Chib owned the bar.” Rebus waited, but she just shrugged. A woman on crutches was trying to get past their table, and Rebus moved his chair, taking him a little closer to Fenella. “When did you and Chib become an item?”
“It was months after Eric died,” she stressed. She was a pro, knew where they were going with this.
“But you were friendly before?”
Her eyes burned into his. “How do you mean, ‘friendly’?”
Gray sat forward. “I think he’s wondering if you and Chib were maybe a bit more than friends, Fenella?” Then he leaned back again. “It’s not the sort of thing you can hide, is it? Tight-knit community like that . . . I’m guessing we’d just have to ask around and we’d find out the score.”
“Ask all you like,” she said, folding her arms. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“You must have known, though,” Gray persisted. “Women always do, in my experience.”
“Known what?”
“Whether Chib fancied you. That’s all we’re talking about.”
“No, it isn’t,” she said coldly. “You’re talking about framing Chib for something he didn’t do.”
“We just need to be sure of the relationships involved,” Rebus said quietly. “That way, we don’t go jumping to conclusions or heading off down the wrong road.” He tried to inject a bit of hurt into his voice. “We thought you might like to help with that.”
“Eric’s death is ancient history,” she stated, unfolding her arms, reaching for her cup.
“Maybe we’ve just got longer memories than some,” Gray said, his tone gaining more edge as his patience waned.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” She lifted the cup, as if to drink from it.
“I’m sure DI Gray didn’t mean to suggest . . .” But Rebus didn’t get the chance to finish the sentence. She’d hurled the tea into Gray’s face, and was on her feet now, walking purposefully away.
Gray was on his feet too. “Fucking hell!” He held a handkerchief to his face, rubbing it dry. His white shirt was stained. He glanced in Fenella’s direction. “We could have her for that, couldn’t we?”
Rebus was thinking back to his own tea incident . . . “If you want to,” he said.
“Jesus, it’s not like I . . .” Gray realized his pager was sounding. He checked it. “Patient’s awake,” he said.
The lifts were at the far end of the building. Both men left the table and started walking, Rebus glad to see the back of his muffin and banana.
“Let’s hope she doesn’t beat us to it,” he said.
Gray was nodding, shaking drips from his shoes.
In fact, there was no sign of Fenella Lomax on the ward. Someone had put some pillows behind Chib Kelly’s head, and he was accepting sips of water from a nurse. Nolan stood up when Rebus and Gray approached.
“Thanks for letting us know,” Gray said. “That’s a favor I owe you.”
Nolan just nodded. He’d noticed the stained shirt, but didn’t ask. Chib Kelly had finished drinking and was resting his head against the pillows, eyes closed.
“How are you feeling, Mr. Kelly?” Rebus asked.
“You’re CID,” the voice croaked. “I can practically smell it off you.”
“That’s because they make us all wear the same deodorant.” Rebus sat down, watching the nurse. She was saying something to Gray about letting the doctor know Kelly was awake. Gray just nodded, but as she moved away he touched Nolan’s arm.
“Go keep her talking, Kenny. Give us a few extra minutes.” He winked. “You might even get a date.”
Nolan seemed happy with the challenge. Kelly had opened one eye. Gray sat down in the guard’s vacated seat.
“We need to get those cuffs off you, Chib. I’ll have a word when he comes back.”
“What do you want?”
“We want to talk about a pub you used to own: the Claymore.”
“I sold it three years ago.”
“Wasn’t it making you any money?” Rebus asked.
“It didn’t fit my portfolio,” Kelly said, closing the eye again. Rebus had thought his voice hoarse from sleep, but it wasn’t. Something had affected it, so that only one side of the mouth was operating a hundred percent.
“They keep telling me a portfolio’s a good thing to have,” Gray said, eyes on Rebus. “Money we make, we may never get the chance to find out.” He winked. Rebus wondered if he was trying to tell him something . . .
“My heart’s bleeding,” Kelly slurred.
“Well, you’re in the right place.”
“Rico Lomax used to drink in the Claymore, didn’t he?” Rebus asked the patient.
Kelly opened both eyes. He didn’t look surprised, just curious. “Rico?”
“We’re doing some housework on his case,” Rebus explained. “Just a few loose ends to tidy up . . .”
Kelly was quiet for a moment. Rebus could see Nolan at the far end of the ward, engaging the nurse in conversation.
“Rico drank in the Claymore,” Kelly acknowledged.
“And as the owner, you’d drink there too sometimes?”
“Sometimes.”
Rebus nodded, even though the patient’s eyes were closing again.
“So you’d have met him?” Gray chipped in.
“I knew him.”
“And Fenella, too?” Rebus added.
Kelly opened his eyes again. “Look, I don’t know what it is you think you’re trying to pull . . .”
“Like we said, it’s housekeeping.”
“And what if I told you to take your feather dusters elsewhere?”
“Well, obviously we’d find that highly amusing,” Rebus said.
“About as amusing as a stroke,” Gray added. Kelly looked at him, eyes narrowing.
“I know you, don’t I?”
“We’ve met once or twice.”
“You’re based out at Govan.” Gray nodded. “With all the other bent cops.” Kelly tried his best to smile with both sides of his face.
“I hope you’re not suggesting that my colleague is less than honest,” Rebus said, angling for details.
“They all are,” Kelly said. Then he looked at Rebus and corrected himself. “You all are.”
“Were Fenella and you an item before Rico got whacked?” Gray hissed, suddenly tired of the game playing. “That’s all we want to know.”
Kelly considered his answer. “It wasn’t till after. Not that Fenella didn’t spread herself a bit thin back then, but that was because she was with the wrong man.”
“Something she didn’t realize till after Rico was dead?” Rebus asked.
“Doesn’t mean I killed him,” Kelly said confidently.
“Then who did?”
“What do you care? Rico’s just another blip on your clear-up rate.”
Rebus ignored this. “You say Fenella had other men: care to give us some names?”
A doctor was approaching — different one from before. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he was saying.
“Give us something to work with, Chib,” Rebus demanded.
Kelly had his eyes closed. The doctor was bedside now. “If you’ll just leave us for a few minutes,” he was saying.
“You’re welcome to him,” Gray said. “But take my advice, Doc: don’t strain yourself . . .”
They took the lift back down, stepped outside. Rebus lit a cigarette. Gray stared at it greedily.
“Thanks for putting temptation my way.”
“Funny thing about hospitals,” Rebus said. “I always need to smoke afterwards.”
“Give me one.” Gray held out a hand.
“You’ve stopped.”
“Don’t be a bastard all your life.” Gray flicked his hand towards himself, and Rebus relented, offering both a cigarette and the lighter. Gray inhaled, held the smoke in his lungs, then exhaled noisily. His eyes were screwed shut in ecstasy.
“Christ, that’s good,” he said. Then he examined the tip of the cigarette, let it fall from his fingers and crushed it underfoot.
“You might have nipped it and given it back,” Rebus complained.
Gray was studying his watch. “Suppose we could head back,” he said, meaning back to Edinburgh.
“Or. . . ?”
“Or we could take that tour I was promising you. Bugger is, I can’t drink if I’m driving.”