‘Better and better.’ Rebus looked at Gill. ‘This is going to be a cinch.’
‘Hence my ear-to-ear grin,’ she parried solemnly.
Back at St Leonard’s, the station was buzzing with the news, but all Siobhan could feel was a dazed numbness. Playing Quizmaster’s game — the way Philippa probably had — had made Siobhan feel an affinity with the missing student. Now she was no longer a MisPer, and the worst fears had been realised.
‘We always knew, didn’t we?’ Grant said. ‘It was just a matter of when the body turned up.’ He dropped his notebook on to the desk in front of him. Three or four pages were covered with anagrams. He sat down and turned to a fresh sheet, pen in hand. George Silvers and Ellen Wylie were in the CID room too.
‘I took my kids up Arthur’s Seat just last weekend,’ Silvers was saying.
Siobhan asked who found the body.
‘Someone out walking,’ Wylie replied. ‘Middle-aged woman, I think. Daily constitutional.’
‘Be a while before she takes that route again,’ Silvers muttered.
‘Was Flip lying there all this time?’ Siobhan was looking across to where Grant was busy juggling letters. Maybe he was right to keep working, but she couldn’t help feeling a certain distaste. How could he not be affected by the news? Even George Silvers — as cynical as they came — looked a bit shell-shocked.
‘Arthur’s Seat,’ he repeated. ‘Just last weekend.’
Wylie decided to answer Siobhan’s question. ‘Chief Super seems to think so.’ As she spoke, she looked down at her desk, and rubbed her hand along it as though wiping off dust.
It hurts her, Siobhan thought... even saying the words ‘Chief Super’ reminds her of that TV appearance and hardens the sense of resentment.
When one of the phones rang, Silvers went to answer.
‘No, he’s not here,’ he told the caller. Then: ‘Hang on, I’ll check.’ He put his hand over the mouthpiece. ‘Ellen, any idea when Rebus will be back?’
She shook her head slowly. Suddenly Siobhan knew where he was: he was on Arthur’s Seat... while Wylie, who was supposed to be his partner, wasn’t. She thought of Gill Templer, telling Rebus he was needed there. He’d have gone like a shot, leaving Wylie behind. It looked to Siobhan like a calculated snub by Templer. She would know exactly how Wylie would feel.
‘Sorry, no idea,’ Silvers said into the phone. Then: ‘Hang on a sec.’ He held the receiver out towards Siobhan.
‘Lady wants to speak to you.’
Siobhan crossed the floor, mouthing the word ‘who?’, but Silvers just shrugged, handed her the phone.
‘Hello, DC Clarke speaking?’
‘Siobhan, it’s Jean Burchill.’
‘Hi, Jean, what can I do for you?’
‘Have you identified her yet?’
‘Not a hundred per cent. How did you know?’
‘John told me, then he rushed off.’
Siobhan’s lips formed a silent O. John Rebus and Jean Burchill... well, well. ‘Do you want me to tell him you called?’
‘I tried his mobile.’
‘He might have it turned off: you don’t always want interruptions at the locus.’
‘The what?’
‘The crime scene.’
‘Arthur’s Seat, isn’t it? We were there only yesterday morning.’
Siobhan looked across to Silvers. It seemed like every other person had been on Arthur’s Seat recently. When her eyes moved to Grant, she saw that he was staring at his notepad, as if mesmerised by something there.
‘Do you know where on Arthur’s Seat?’ Jean was asking.
‘Across the road from Dunsapie Loch and a bit further around towards the east.’
Siobhan was watching Grant. His eyes were on her as he got up from his chair, picking up the notebook.
‘Where’s that...?’ The question was rhetorical, Jean trying to picture the location. Grant was holding the notebook out in front of him, but still too far away for her to make out much: jumbles of letters, and then a couple of words circled. Siobhan narrowed her eyes.
‘Oh,’ Jean said suddenly, ‘I know where you mean. Hellbank, I think it’s called.’
‘Hellbank?’ Siobhan made sure Grant could hear her, but his mind seemed to be elsewhere.
‘Quite a steep slope,’ Jean was saying, ‘which might explain the name, though of course the folklore prefers witches and devilry.’
‘Yes,’ Siobhan said, dragging the word out. ‘Look, Jean, I’ve got to go.’ She was staring at the words circled on Grant’s notepad. He’d worked out the anagram. ‘That’s a surer’ had become ‘Arthur’s Seat’.
Siobhan put down the phone.
‘He was leading us to her,’ Grant said quietly.
‘Maybe.’
‘What do you mean, “maybe”?’
‘You’re saying he knew Flip was dead. We can’t know that for certain. All he was doing was taking us to the places Flip went.’
‘She turned up dead at this one. And who apart from Quizmaster knew she’d be there?’
‘Someone could have followed her, or even chanced upon her.’
‘You don’t believe that,’ Grant said confidently.
‘I’m playing devil’s advocate, Grant, that’s all.’
‘He killed her.’
‘Then why bother helping us play the game?’
‘To fuck with our heads.’ He paused. ‘No, to fuck with your head. And maybe more than that.’
‘Then he’d have killed me before now.’
‘Why?’
‘Because now I don’t need to play the game any more. I’ve come as far as Flip did.’
He shook his head slowly. ‘You’re saying if he sends you the clue for... what’s the next stage?’
‘Stricture.’
He nodded. ‘If he sends it, you won’t be tempted?’
‘No,’ she said.
‘You’re lying.’
‘Well, after this there’s no way I’d go anywhere without back-up, and he must know that.’ She had a thought. ‘Stricture,’ she said.
‘What about it?’
‘He e-mailed Flip... after she’d been killed. Why on earth would he do that if he’d killed her?’
‘Because he’s a psychopath.’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘You should get online and ask him.’
‘Ask if he’s a psychopath?’
‘Tell him what we know.’
‘He could just disappear. Face it, Grant, we could walk past him in the street and not know him. He’s just a name — and not even a real name.’
Grant thumped the desk. ‘Well, we’ve got to do something. Any minute now he’s going to hear on the radio or TV that the body’s been found. He’ll be expecting to hear from us.’
‘You’re right,’ she said. The laptop was in her shoulder-bag, still hooked up to the mobile phone. She got it out and set it up, plugging both computer and phone into the floor point for a recharge.
Which gave Grant time enough to start having second thoughts. ‘Hang on,’ he said, ‘we need to clear this with DCS Templer.’
She gave him a look. ‘Back to playing by the rules, eh?’
His face reddened, but he nodded. ‘Something like this, we need to tell her.’
Silvers and Wylie, who’d been listening intently throughout, had understood enough to know something important was going on.
‘I’m with Siobhan,’ Wylie said. ‘Strike while the iron is hot and all that.’
Silvers disagreed. ‘You know the score: Chief Super’ll blast the pair of you if you go behind her back.’
‘We’re not going behind her back,’ Siobhan stated, eyes on Wylie.
‘Yes we are,’ Grant said. ‘It’s a murder case now, Siobhan. The time for playing games just stopped.’ He rested both hands on her desk. ‘Send that e-mail, and you’re on your own.’