by Ian Rankin
‘You got on the wrong side of General Sikorski? So you weren’t here at the same time as Mr Collins and Mr Hess?’
‘Not quite, no – though Helen was a constant throughout.’ Novack looked at Helen Carter and gave a slight bow of his head.
‘I only caught a little of that,’ Carter said, fiddling with her hearing aid.
‘Offer her a post-prandial rum, however,’ Novack said quietly, ‘and you will find her hearing miraculously unimpaired.’
The sly glance she gave him confirmed the prognosis.
‘I returned here immediately after the war,’ Novack continued for Rebus’s benefit. ‘I had fond memories of the place and the people – and I’d found that there wasn’t much of a life waiting for me back in Poland. Camp 1033 was still operational then, of course. It only closed in 1947. Internees were used as unpaid labour – no need to send them home, as there had been no official armistice at war’s end. And of course the country needed workers.’
‘Is that when you were released, Mr Collins?’ Rebus asked.
‘Exactly so.’
‘And like Mr Novack, you chose to stick around?’
A further twitch of the shoulders. ‘I had fallen in love.’
Rebus turned to Jimmy Hess. ‘And your grandfather?’
Hess was nodding. ‘Same thing.’
‘Odd, isn’t it?’ Helen Carter broke in. ‘I don’t think many British POWs stayed in Germany after 1945.’
‘You only have yourself to blame for being so accommodating,’ Novack said. ‘I don’t mean you personally, Helen, but Scottish people in general.’
‘So nothing but happy memories of the camp?’ Rebus enquired.
‘There was hardship,’ Novack said. ‘The place was freezing in winter, stifling in summer. Even after British soldiers replaced the Poles, there were incidents. It was thought someone had tried to poison the camp’s delivery of bread – isn’t that correct, Helen?’
‘A lot of the men got food poisoning. Just one of those things.’
Rebus’s eyes were on Novack. ‘You don’t think it was random chance?’
‘People were friendly in the main, but try to imagine it – exotic foreigners arrive in your midst and are free to walk around the community, charming your womenfolk … ’
‘Leading to a certain resentment?’ Rebus guessed.
‘Best if Joseph tells it,’ Novack stated.
‘What is there to tell?’ Collins barked across the table.
‘A fellow internee died, Joseph.’
‘Died how?’ Rebus asked into the uncomfortable silence.
‘Firing squad. He’d shot and killed one of the guards.’ Novack’s attention turned to Helen Carter. ‘The guard was a friend of your sister’s, wasn’t he, Helen? I’m not quite remembering his name … ’
‘His name was Gareth,’ she intoned in a voice that was almost a whisper, her rheumy eyes beginning to fill. ‘Gareth Davies.’
‘Two men, one woman.’ Novack offered a shrug.
Rebus turned his attention back to Joe Collins. ‘The revolver you kept on the wall behind the bar – what was that about?’
‘I found it washed ashore. Probably belonged to a guard, tossed away to mark the end of the conflict.’
‘You had it made safe?’
‘No need – the mechanical parts had seized; it was never going to work.’
‘When it went missing, what did you think?’
‘It is of no consequence.’
Behind Rebus the door clattered open, a shadow looming over the table.
‘What the hell are you up to?’ Robin Creasey demanded. Rebus turned to face him.
‘Just doing your job, DS Creasey. Someone has to.’
‘A word with you outside, right now.’
Rebus gave a sigh of apology as he rose slowly from the table, following the detective out onto the pavement.
‘You’ve been back to the camp,’ Creasey stated.
‘You got my message, then?’
‘So what is it you feel you need to tell me?’
Rebus made show of considering the question. ‘Now that I think of it, I’m not sure it’s anything you should concern yourself with. Probably got enough on your plate as it is.’
‘Whereas your plate should have been cleaned and put away by now.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Meaning why the hell are you still here?’
‘My daughter’s partner was murdered, in case you’ve forgotten.’
‘And the last thing I need is you trampling over that inquiry. What the hell were you doing visiting Strathy Castle?’
‘News gets around.’
‘The gardener has a mate who’s a copper in Thurso. Asked him to check if there’s someone on the force in Edinburgh called Fox. There is, sort of, but the description didn’t match. The real Fox is a couple of decades too young, for a start.’
‘Doesn’t mean to say it was me at the castle.’
‘Except you just admitted it.’
‘Stupid of me … ’ Rebus stuffed his hands into his pockets. Both men turned as the door to the bar opened again. Stefan Novack was wrapping a scarf around his neck.
‘I have another appointment,’ he explained. ‘Josef has fallen asleep and Helen needs to get home to take her pills. I hope we were of some use to you.’
‘I’d have liked a bit more time,’ Rebus said. ‘Can we talk again?’
‘As you wish.’ Novack was holding the door open so that Helen Carter could manoeuvre her way out of The Glen with her walking frame. She didn’t seem to recognise Rebus. The pair of them headed to a waiting car, Novack unlocking the doors.
‘What was your little meeting about?’ Creasey asked.
‘Keith interviewed them, but there’s precious little sign of any of that in the papers in his garage. Whoever took his laptop had to have good reason. There was also a memory stick with the audio recordings – again, missing.’
Creasey screwed up his face. ‘Come on, John, we’ve already discussed this. Every housebreaker and mugger knows something like a computer or a mobile phone can be resold.’
‘His notebooks are gone too, though. You telling me they were going to sell those?’
‘So the story you’re trying to foist on me is that he was murdered in cold blood because of his interest in a Second World War internment camp? That makes more sense to you than a personal grudge, a falling-out or a robbery?’
Rebus jabbed a finger towards Creasey. ‘Are you pinning this on my daughter?’
‘We’re keeping an open mind.’
‘Who else have you got? Jess Hawkins?’
‘Why him especially?’ Creasey sounded genuinely interested.
‘Because his Jim Jones Brigadoon cult is practically next door to Camp 1033.’
‘And?’
‘And he or one of his minions could have decided it was the only way to deliver Samantha to the cause.’
The two men stared at one another in silence for a moment. Rebus exhaled noisily and ran his hand through his hair.
‘I don’t know, Robin. I really don’t.’
‘Where does Lord Strathy fit into your theories?’
Rebus shook his head. ‘A favour for an ex-colleague in Edinburgh.’
‘This guy Fox?’
‘Not him, no. You know Strathy owns a lot of the land around here, including Camp 1033 and Hawkins’ commune?’
Creasey raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m not sure I did know that.’
‘Keith wanted the community to buy the land the camp’s on, turn it into a visitor attraction.’
‘And?’
‘And now his lordship seems to have dropped off everyone’s radar.’
Creasey looked a bit more interested. ‘Since when?’
‘Goo
d question. I’m not really sure. But my gut tells me the gardener at the castle – guy by the name of Colin Belkin – might once not have been such good friends with cops.’
‘He’s got a record?’
‘Worth a bit of digging, I’d say.’
Creasey worked his jaw as he did some calculations. ‘My team’s pretty stretched as it is … ’
‘They all stuck in that Portakabin?’
‘We’ve got the use of the police station in Tongue – just as soon as we track down whoever has the key so we can unlock it.’
‘I could always lend a hand if you’re short of bodies.’
‘Nice try, John, but … well, you know damned fine what I’m going to say.’
‘I should butt out, go home, keep out of your hair – something along those lines?’
‘You should be focusing on Samantha and Carrie – they need you a lot more than the dead do.’ Creasey studied his watch.
‘Don’t let me keep you.’
‘I’ve got a thing in Inverness tonight. Need to get going.’
‘Had a chance to check my prints against those found in the Volvo?’
‘Yours, mine, Samantha’s and Keith’s. Plus a child’s partials that we’re guessing belong to your granddaughter.’ Creasey paused. ‘You know Samantha visited Hawkins’ place the day Keith died? Don’t bother answering – I can see the answer on your face. Does that sound to you like her fling with the man was over?’
‘You’re not having her, Creasey. No way I’m letting that happen.’
Creasey stared at him. ‘Nothing I’ve said has made a blind bit of difference, has it?’
‘I can assure you I’ve taken it on board.’
The slow shake of the head the detective gave in response told Rebus he wasn’t fooled. He watched as Creasey crossed the road to his car and climbed in. The door to the bar opened and Jimmy Hess emerged.
‘Best be off,’ he said, shrugging himself into his fleece.
‘Thank you for coming. I hope your grandfather perks up soon.’
‘He’s ninety-three years old. I doubt perking up is on the cards.’
‘But his faculties are intact – enough for Keith to have put a few questions to him?’
‘The pair of them talked. Not sure my grandad was much help. His memory’s not what it was, and it was such a long time ago.’
‘I wouldn’t mind a word with him at some point.’
‘I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Who looks after him, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘Just me. We manage for the most part.’
‘Must be tough when you’re at work.’
Jimmy Hess’s face darkened a little. ‘I packed in my job so I could be more help. Part and parcel of being a family, eh?’ He looked up towards the gathering dusk. ‘You never know what’s round the next corner.’ He slipped the hood of his fleece over his head and began to walk.
After a moment or two, Rebus headed indoors. Joe Collins was napping at the table, hands resting in his lap. Music was playing through the speakers, but only just audibly. The bar was back to regulars again. The media had moved on; ditto the ghouls. Rebus hoisted himself onto one of the bar stools.
‘What’ll it be?’ May Collins asked.
‘Coffee, strong as you can make it.’
‘Bed not comfy last night?’
‘Brain wouldn’t switch off.’
‘You sure coffee’s the answer?’
‘I don’t know, May – what was the question again?’
She was laughing as she headed to the machine.
19
The Jenever Club hadn’t quite opened for the evening, but its door was unlocked, which was why Dennis Jones was able to walk in and demand to see Morris Cafferty.
‘People usually call me Big Ger,’ a voice barked from the mezzanine level.
Jones took the stairs two at a time. He had a large frame and still considered himself fit. Played badminton and squash. He’d been partnered with a colleague, Gillian Bowness, for a varsity doubles competition. That had been the beginning of his trouble.
Cafferty was seated at the last banquette along. He was on his own, and was folding closed the screen of his computer as Jones approached.
‘Take a seat,’ he said, ‘and tell me what’s on your mind.’
‘I think you already know.’ Jones was breathing hard, powered by adrenalin.
‘Does your wife know you’re here?’
‘All she told me was that someone had footage. Had to come from here, so I did a bit of digging. Didn’t take much in the way of detective skills.’
‘And now here you are, so what exactly is it I can do for you?’
‘I won’t let you do this to her.’
‘Who?’
‘Jenni.’
‘I assume you mean Assistant Chief Constable Lyon? What did she say to you?’
‘Just that she was fixing it and I wasn’t to worry. But if fixing it means dealing with trash like you … ’
‘You’d rather it was all made nice and public?’ Cafferty gave the beginnings of a chuckle, stopping as he saw Jones’s hands forming themselves into fists. ‘Don’t do anything radically more stupid than you already have. Now sit down while I tell you something I haven’t yet told your good lady.’
He bided his time until Jones bent to his will and slid onto the banquette.
‘The footage we caught of you here is tame stuff – a smooch and a snog, a bit of powder up the nose. You should see what sometimes goes on. But I pride myself on knowing who’s who. Your uni job didn’t interest me, but your life partner did.’ He paused. ‘Which is why I had someone keep an eye on you for a week or two. That country park near your place of work – a beautiful spot and woefully under-used. Car park’s often completely empty … ’ He was watching the effect his words were having. Dennis Jones began visibly to deflate. ‘Bit reckless really, don’t you think? Though I did admire your friend’s agility. Must be all that badminton.’ He paused again. ‘I can’t be sure what you told the missus, but pictures like that on the front page of a red-top … well, that’s a marriage killer right there.’
He leaned forward, elbows on the table. ‘This isn’t about you, Dennis. I doubt Jenni’s too bothered about you and your career. Hers, on the other hand … ’ He leaned back again. ‘How do you think she’d react if she knew you’d come here? I’ll tell you: she’d be apoplectic, because you’re in danger of royally pissing me off. One call to the media, one email attachment, and she’s all over the papers. So while I can quite understand the macho posturing, it’s time for you to slope off home and leave your wife to deal with the shitty nappy you’ve left on her pristine floor.’
He opened the computer lid again, signalling the end of the meeting.
‘You’ve not heard the last of this,’ Jones blustered, getting to his feet.
‘You best hope I fucking well have,’ Cafferty responded with a glare before turning his attention to his screen.
He listened to the footsteps stomping back down the staircase, then slid out from his seat and checked over the balcony. His visitor had gone. Taking out his phone, he made a call.
‘Malcolm?’ he said when it was answered. ‘You still at your desk? Be downstairs in fifteen minutes … ’
It was a large black Mercedes, its rear windows heavily tinted. As Fox exited Leith police station, the driver emerged, closing the door after him. Fox crossed the street. The driver wasn’t very tall, but he looked as if he could handle himself, all wired nerves and attitude, wrapped in a leather bomber jacket.
‘Back seat,’ he stated.
Fox got in next to Cafferty. The driver stayed on the pavement, lighting a cigarette and checking his phone.
‘Problem?’ Fox asked, skipping the pleasantries.
‘Just
thought you ought to know I’ve had a visit from Casanova.’
‘I assume you mean Dennis Jones?’
‘My thinking is, he sees something’s not right, the way his missus is acting, and she eventually blurts it out.’
‘Telling him everything?’
‘Not quite – but he’s savvy enough to walk it back to me.’
‘And?’
‘And I don’t want that happening again. Only room for three in this relationship, Malcolm – you, me and your boss.’
‘It’s not a relationship.’
‘Can’t disagree with that, insofar as I’ve heard hee-haw from either of you.’
‘Trust me, we’re working on it.’
‘And?’
‘And we’re at the start of the jigsaw. Edges nearly finished but a lot still to fill in.’
‘So show me the outline.’
Fox was shaking his head. ‘Not yet.’
‘Soon then?’
He half turned so he was facing Cafferty. ‘Is this to do with Salman bin Mahmoud? Dirty money mixing with clean? Golf resorts and landed gentry?’
‘Okay, so you’ve been busy,’ Cafferty accepted with a slow nod. ‘But I need those pieces filled in sooner rather than later.’
‘Keeping you company isn’t helping with that.’
‘You going to tell Lyon about her stoked-up husband?’
‘Looks like I might have to.’
‘Guy like that, impetuous and hot-blooded … ’
‘What?’
‘He might need keeping an eye on. Who’s to say his straying days are behind him?’ Cafferty’s eyes were on Fox. ‘Got to admit, though, you’re a lot craftier than I gave you credit for.’
‘How’s that then?’
‘Look on his face when I mentioned the footage of him and the coke. He didn’t know I had it, which tells me his missus doesn’t know – and that means you kept that detail to yourself. Didn’t want her knowing more than she needed to, afraid she might take it out on you?’ He wagged a finger. ‘I should have known someone with the name Fox would have a bit of slyness about them. Now bugger off and get busy on Stewart Scoular. Clock’s ticking, Malcolm … ’