‘Thank you,’ she said, compressing it to the single syllable kyoo.
‘I think that’s plenty to be going on with,’ Siobhan was saying. Rebus — who privately disagreed — nodded his compliance. ‘You’ve been a big help, Claire.’
‘Really?’
It was Siobhan’s turn to nod. ‘We might be in touch again later, if that’s all right.’
‘Fine, whatever.’
Siobhan handed over her card. ‘If I’m not in the office, the pager will always find me.’
‘Okay.’ Claire slipped the card into one of her files.
‘Sure you’re all right?’
Claire nodded, stood up, clutching her files to her chest. ‘I’ve got another class,’ she said. ‘Don’t want to miss it.’
‘Dr Curt tells us you’re related to Kennet Lovell?’
She looked at him. ‘On my mother’s side.’ She paused, as if expecting a follow-up question, but Rebus didn’t have one.
‘Thanks again,’ Siobhan said.
They watched as she started to leave. Rebus was holding the door open for her. ‘Just one thing, Claire?’
She stopped beside him, staring up. ‘Yes?’ she said.
‘You told us you used to know Falls.’ Rebus waited till she’d nodded. ‘Does that mean you’ve not been there recently?’
‘I might have passed through.’
He nodded acceptance of this. She made to leave again. ‘You know Beverly Dodds though,’ he added.
‘Who?’
‘I think she made that bracelet you’re wearing.’
Claire lifted her wrist. ‘This?’ It looked very much like the one Jean had bought: polished stones drilled and threaded. ‘Flip gave it to me. Said something about it being “good magic”.’ She shrugged. ‘Not that I believe in it, of course...’
Rebus watched her leave, then closed the door. ‘What do you think?’ he asked, turning back into the room.
‘I don’t know,’ Siobhan admitted.
‘A bit of acting going on?’
‘The tears seemed real enough.’
‘Isn’t that what acting’s all about?’
Siobhan sat down in Claire’s chair. ‘If a killer’s hiding in there, it’s buried deep.’
‘Seven fin high: say Flip didn’t come up to her at a bar. Say Claire already knew what it meant.’
‘Because she’s the Quizmaster?’ Siobhan shook her head.
‘Or another player,’ Rebus said.
‘Then why bother telling us anything?’
‘Because...’ But Rebus couldn’t think of an answer for that.
‘I’ll tell you what I’m wondering.’
‘Her father?’ Rebus guessed.
Siobhan nodded. ‘There’s something she was holding back.’
‘So why did her family move?’
Siobhan was thoughtful, but couldn’t think of a quick answer.
‘Her old school might tell us,’ Rebus said. While Siobhan went to ask the secretary for a phone book, Rebus called Bev Dodds’s number. She answered on the sixth ring.
‘It’s DI Rebus,’ he said.
‘Inspector, I’m a bit pushed at the moment...’
He could hear other voices. Tourists, he guessed, probably deciding what to buy. ‘I don’t think,’ he said, ‘I ever asked you if you knew Philippa Balfour.’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘Do you mind if I ask you now?’
‘Not at all.’ She paused. ‘The answer is no.’
‘You never met her?’
‘Never. Why do you ask?’
‘A friend of hers is wearing a bracelet she says Philippa gave her. It looks to me like one of yours.’
‘Quite possible.’
‘But you didn’t sell it to Philippa?’
‘If it’s one of mine, chances are she bought it in a shop. There’s a craft shop in Haddington takes my work, and another in Edinburgh.’
‘What’s the name of the one in Edinburgh?’
‘Wiccan Crafts. It’s on Jeffrey Street, if you’re interested. Now, if you don’t mind...’ But Rebus had already put down the phone. Siobhan was coming back in with the number for Flip’s old school. Rebus made the call, putting the speaker on so Siobhan could listen. The headmistress had been one of the teachers during Flip and Claire’s time there.
‘Poor, poor Philippa, it’s terrible news... and what her family must be going through,’ the headmistress said.
‘I’m sure they’ve got every support,’ Rebus commiserated, trying to get as much sincerity into his voice as he could.
There was a long sigh at the other end of the line.
‘But actually, I’m phoning in connection with Claire.’
‘Claire?’
‘Claire Benzie. It’s part of the background, trying to build up a picture of Philippa. I believe she and Claire were good friends at one time.’
‘Pretty good, yes.’
‘They lived near one another, too?’
‘That’s right. Out East Lothian way.’
Rebus had a thought. ‘How did they get to school?’
‘Oh, Claire’s father usually drove them in. Either him or Philippa’s mother. A lovely lady, I do grieve for her so...’
‘Claire’s father worked in Edinburgh then?’
‘Oh, yes. Some sort of lawyer.’
‘Is that why the family moved? Was it to do with his work?’
‘Dear me, no. I think they were evicted.’
‘Evicted?’
‘Well, one shouldn’t gossip, but with him being deceased I don’t suppose it matters.’
‘We’ll hold it in strictest confidence,’ Rebus said, looking at Siobhan.
‘Well, it’s just that the poor man made some bad investments. I believe he was always a bit of a gambler, and it looks like this time he went too far, lost thousands... his house... the lot.’
‘How did he die?’
‘I think you’ve guessed. He booked into a seaside hotel quite shortly thereafter, and took an overdose of some kind of tablets. It’s quite a tumble after all, isn’t it, from lawyer to bankrupt...?’
‘Yes, it is,’ Rebus agreed. ‘Many thanks for that.’
‘Yes, I’d better go. I’ve some sort of curriculum meeting to attend.’ Her tone told Rebus this was a regular occurrence, and not one to be savoured. ‘Such a pity, two families torn apart by tragedy.’
‘Goodbye then,’ Rebus said, putting down the phone. He looked at Siobhan.
‘Investments?’ she echoed.
‘And who would he trust if not the father of his daughter’s best friend?’
Siobhan nodded. ‘John Balfour’s about to bury his daughter,’ she reminded him.
‘Then we’ll talk to someone else at the bank.’
Siobhan smiled. ‘I know just the man...’
Ranald Marr was at Junipers, so they drove out to Falls. Siobhan asked if they could stop and look at the waterfall. A couple of tourists were doing the same thing. The man was taking a photo of his wife. He asked Rebus if he’d take one of the pair of them together. His voice was Edinburgh.
‘What brings you here?’ Rebus asked, feigning innocence.
‘Same thing as you most likely,’ the man said, positioning himself next to his wife. ‘Make sure you get the wee waterfall in.’
‘You mean you’re here because of the coffin?’ Rebus said, peering through the view-finder.
‘Aye, well, she’s dead now, isn’t she?’
‘She is that,’ Rebus said.
‘Sure you’re getting us in?’ the man asked worriedly.
‘Perfect,’ Rebus said, pressing the button. When the film was developed, there’d be a picture of sky and trees, nothing more.
‘Wee tip,’ the man said, taking his camera back. He nodded towards one of the trees. ‘She’s the one found the coffin.’
Rebus looked. There was a crude sign pinned to the tree, advertising Bev Dodds’s Pottery. A hand-drawn map showed her cottage. ‘Pottery for Sale, Teas and Coffees.’ She was branching out.