‘They pick names at random,’ he said, his neck reddening. ‘I think they have some kind of system that tells them when you’re online.’
‘I’ll believe you,’ she said.
‘It’s true!’ His voice was rising.
‘Okay, okay. I really do believe you.’
‘I’d never do that, Siobhan.’
She nodded, but kept quiet. They had reached the outskirts of Edinburgh when the next message was announced. This time it was Quizmaster. Grant pulled up on to the verge and stopped the car.
‘What’s he saying?’
‘Take a look.’ Siobhan angled the laptop towards him. They were a team, after all...
Hart Fell is all I needed. You didn’t need to climb it.
‘Bastard,’ Grant hissed.
Siobhan typed her response. Did Flip know that? There was nothing for a couple of minutes, then: You’re two moves away from Hellbank. Clue follows in approximately ten minutes. You have twenty-four hours to solve it. Do you wish to continue the game?
Siobhan looked at Grant. ‘Tell him yes,’ he said.
‘Not yet.’ When he looked at her, she held his gaze. ‘I think maybe he needs us as much as we need him.’
‘Can we risk that?’
But she was already typing: Need to know — did Flip have help? Who else was playing?
His response was immediate: Last time of asking. Do you wish to continue?
‘We don’t want to lose him,’ Grant warned.
‘He knew I’d climb that hill. Probably the way he knew Flip wouldn’t.’ Siobhan chewed her bottom lip. ‘I think we can push him a bit further.’
‘We’re two clues away from Hellbank. That’s as far as Flip got.’
Siobhan nodded slowly, then began to type: Continue to next level, but please, just tell me if Flip had anyone helping her.
Grant sat back and sucked in his breath. Nothing came back. Siobhan checked her watch. ‘He said ten minutes.’
‘You like to gamble, don’t you?’
‘What’s life without a bit of risk?’
‘A much pleasanter, less stressful experience.’
She looked at him. ‘This from the boy racer.’
He wiped the windscreen clear of condensation. ‘If Flip didn’t need to climb Hart Fell, I wonder if she needed to do any travelling at all. I mean, could she have solved the puzzle from her bedroom?’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning she wouldn’t have gone anywhere that would have got her into trouble.’
Siobhan nodded. ‘Maybe the next clue will tell us.’
‘If there is a next clue.’
‘You gotta have faith,’ she sang.
‘That’s just what faith is to me: a song by George Michael.’
The laptop told them there was a message. Grant leaned over again to read it.
A corny beginning where the mason’s dream ended.
While they were still taking it in, another message arrived: I don’t think Flipside had any help. Is anyone helping you, Siobhan?
She typed ‘No’ and pressed ‘send’.
‘Why don’t you want him to know?’ Grant asked.
‘Because he might change the rules, or even take the huff. He says Flip was on her own, I want him to think the same about me.’ She glanced at him. ‘Is that a problem?’
Grant thought for a moment, then shook his head. ‘So what does the latest clue mean?’
‘I haven’t the faintest. I don’t suppose you’re a Mason?’
He shook his head again. ‘Never quite got round to joining. Any idea where we might find one?’
Siobhan smiled. ‘In the Lothian and Borders Police? I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble...’
The coffins had turned up at St Leonard’s, as had the autopsy notes. There was just the one small problem: the Falls coffin was now in the possession of Steve Holly. Bev Dodds had given it to him so it could be photographed. Rebus decided he’d have to visit Holly’s office. He grabbed his jacket and walked across to the desk opposite, where Ellen Wylie was looking bored as Donald Devlin pored over the contents of a slim manila file.
‘I have to go out,’ he explained.
‘Lucky you. Need any company?’
‘Look after Professor Devlin. I won’t be long.’
Devlin looked up. ‘And where are your peregrinations taking you?’
‘There’s a reporter I need to talk to.’
‘Ah, our much-derided fourth estate.’
The way Devlin talked, it was getting on Rebus’s nerves. And he wasn’t alone, if Wylie’s look was anything to go by. She always sat with her chair as far from the Professor as possible, on opposite sides of the desk if she could manage it.
‘I’ll be as quick as I can,’ he tried to reassure her, but as he walked away he knew her eyes were following him all the way to the door.
Another thing about Devlin: he was almost too keen. Being useful again had taken years off him. He relished the autopsy reports, reciting passages aloud, and whenever Rebus was busy or trying to concentrate, you could be sure Devlin had some question to ask. Not for the first time, Rebus cursed Gates and Curt. Wylie herself had summed it up by way of a question to Rebus: ‘Remind me,’ she’d asked, ‘is he helping us or are we helping him? I mean, if I’d wanted to be a care assistant, I’d have applied to an old folk’s home...’
In his car, Rebus tried not to count the number of pubs he passed on his route into town.
The Glasgow tabloid had its office on the top floor of a Queen Street conversion a few doors along from the BBC. Rebus chanced his luck, parked on a single yellow line outside. The main door was wedged open, so he climbed the three flights and pulled open a glass-panelled door leading to a cramped reception area where a woman working a switchboard smiled at him as she answered the latest call.
‘I’m afraid he’s out for the day. Do you have his mobile number?’ Her short blonde hair was tucked behind both ears. She wore a black headset consisting of earpiece and microphone. ‘Thank you,’ she said, terminating the call, only to press a button to take another. She didn’t look at Rebus, but held up a finger telling him he hadn’t been forgotten. He looked around for somewhere to sit, but there were no chairs, just an exhausted-looking cheese plant in a pot it was fast outgrowing.
‘I’m afraid he’s out for the day,’ she told the new caller. ‘Do you have his mobile number?’ She gave this number, then terminated the call.
‘Sorry about that,’ she told Rebus.
‘That’s okay. I’m here to see Steve Holly, but I have the feeling I know what you’re going to say.’
‘He’s out for the day, I’m afraid.’
Rebus nodded.
‘Do you have his—’
‘I do, yes.’
‘Was he expecting you?’
‘I don’t know. I’m here to pick up the doll, if he’s finished with it.’
‘Ooh, that thing.’ She made a show of shivering. ‘He left it on my chair this morning. Steve’s idea of a laugh.’
‘The hours must fly.’
She smiled again, enjoying this little conspiracy against her colleague. ‘I think it’s in his cubicle.’
Rebus nodded. ‘Photos all done?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘Then maybe I could...?’ He pointed a thumb towards where he guessed Holly’s cubicle might be.
‘Don’t see why not.’ The switchboard was sounding again.
‘I’ll leave you to it then,’ Rebus said, turning round as if he knew exactly where he was going.