The Dark Remains

by Ian Rankin

  ‘No more apologies,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to hear them. I just want you to watch your backs in future, because this time you made it far too easy for whoever did this.’

  ‘It was Cam Colvin, surely.’

  ‘There’s no “surely” about it, son. Not in this business. Lazy thinking can lead you down any number of dead ends, and dead ends are where you’re most likely to get jumped. Now bugger off, the pair of you.’ Rhodes reached into his pocket and brought out a couple of notes, sliding them across the table. ‘Let’s call this sick pay,’ he said.

  ‘We’re not being given the boot?’

  ‘You’re on a warning, that’s all. If you’re savvy enough to learn from it, so much the better.’

  ‘On your way, lads,’ the scarred man said from behind them. They stood up, mumbling their thanks as they picked up the cash.

  Once they’d gone, John Rhodes pushed his chair back and stretched out his legs.

  ‘Maybe put them on overnight guard duty outside here,’ he said to the man with the scars.

  ‘You think whoever hit the place will try again?’

  ‘No, but do it anyway. It might dawn on them that it’s by way of punishment. Then again it might not.’

  ‘The Lucozade was a nice touch.’

  ‘It’s not because I care about them, if that’s what you’re thinking. It’s because I’d sometimes be better off employing convalescent schoolkids. Though again, they might be too thick for the insult to get through. Now, do you need me to repeat any of my instructions?’

  ‘Received and understood.’

  ‘Then what the hell are you waiting for? Go tell them!’

  22

  The Glasgow Press Club was on West George Street. A curving staircase – the bane of many an over-weight journalist’s life – led to a locked door behind which sat a bar and a separate snooker room. Eddie Devlin was already there. Devlin worked for the Glasgow Herald and had an archivist’s knowledge of the city. A quarter-gill measure of whisky was waiting for Laidlaw, along with a jug of water. A TV was on in a corner of the room, showing what looked like an Open University programme.

  ‘Barman’s studying structural mechanics,’ Devlin explained. He had a pint of Tennent’s in front of him, and would doubtless refer to his glass as half empty rather than half full.

  ‘Get you a top-up?’ Laidlaw asked, but the reporter shook his head. ‘I must be losing my hearing, Eddie,’ Laidlaw chided him.

  ‘Doctor’s orders. He wants me losing two stone. I did suggest he lop off a limb or two, but he advised against.’

  ‘What’s the diagnosis?’

  ‘You name it, I’ve got it. Diabetes, scarred lungs, coronary heart disease. Oh, and a touch of toothache too.’

  ‘Sounds like a full house to me. You’re still working, though?’

  ‘Crime never sleeps, Jack, and neither does the Herald’s chief reporter. Actually, I do snatch a few hours here and there, though I’m always fretting I might not wake up again. So fill me with good cheer – tell me you’re here to divulge rather than dig.’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you, Eddie.’ Laidlaw opened his cigarettes and offered Devlin one.

  ‘I’m trying to quit.’ Which didn’t stop him gazing wistfully at Laidlaw as he placed one between his lips and lit it.

  ‘Willpower apart, what’s the secret?’

  ‘Polo mints and chewing gum.’

  ‘Explains the toothache, at any rate.’ In a small act of charity, Laidlaw blew some smoke his friend’s way, watching Devlin inhale it. Then: ‘You hearing anything from your sources, Eddie?’ He dragged the ashtray across the table towards him.

  ‘About last night, you mean? One petrol bombing, two doings?’

  ‘That and everything else. I’m sensing a pattern behind the chaos, but it’s not quite revealed itself to me yet.’

  ‘You and me both. You know Carter wasn’t the type to keep his nose clean? Had trouble keeping his trousers zipped, too.’

  ‘We’ve spoken to Jennifer Love. Are we missing any others?’

  ‘Probably a slew of one-night stands and afternoon assignations. He’d go to that casino on Ingram Street. They have a couple of bedrooms on the top floor, sometimes used by clients when they’re the worse for wear – I’m talking high-rollers the casino treats with kid gloves. That’s where Carter took at least some of his conquests.’

  ‘Seems like everybody knew except his wife and kids.’

  ‘Isn’t that always the way of it, though?’

  ‘Is the casino still run by Joey Frazer?’ ‘It’s his name on the paperwork, but Colvin owns the building and takes the lion’s share of the profits.’

  ‘So if Carter got in over his head . . .’

  ‘Carter never did bet much. He’d eat a meal, drink a bottle of champagne, try a few spins of the wheel or hands of blackjack. It was just a place where he could socialise and maybe play the big man for the benefit of a secretary or hairdresser from Maryhill.’

  ‘Or a dancer from Knightswood.’

  Devlin’s mouth twitched. ‘You know she was seeing Chick McAllister before Carter?’

  ‘I’ve had a word with him.’

  ‘Then you’ll know McAllister works for John Rhodes?’

  ‘It’s a small city, Eddie.’

  ‘You could paint it in a day,’ Devlin agreed. ‘But by the time you were finishing, there’d already be graffiti on the first bit.’

  The two men sat in silence for a moment, savouring their drinks. ‘Have you given any thought to Matt Mason?’ Devlin eventually asked, his voice dropping several notches. Laidlaw looked at the other tables, pairs of men busy trading their own battle stories and tales of woe. No one seemed to be listening, but then none of them were daft either. They all knew who Laidlaw was, or at least what he was. When he spoke, Laidlaw’s own voice had become a murmuring brook.

  ‘Not especially. Are you saying we should?’

  ‘You know who Jennifer Love’s dad is?’ Devlin watched Laidlaw give a slow nod. ‘Word is, Matt Mason pays his wages these days.’

  ‘What’s the job description?’

  ‘Love still knows a few people in the football world. He coaches youth teams, junior league. But those players often go on to bigger things, and through them Love meets pretty much anyone and everyone. There can be a lot of money riding on a game of football. A few bets spread across a variety of bookmakers, plus the pools, obviously.’

  ‘You’re saying Love talks players into chucking the odd game?’

  Devlin offered a shrug. ‘Goalkeepers are the easiest route. A busy goalmouth, a fumbled catch, maybe something that makes your defenders look equally culpable. I’m not saying it’s true, but it’s what I’ve been hearing.’

  ‘And meantime Love’s daughter switches from one of John Rhodes’s men to one of Cam Colvin’s.’

  ‘Can you see her father being thrilled about that when he’s tied his wagon to Matt Mason’s horse?’

  ‘I can’t, no. Thanks for that, Eddie.’

  ‘Anything for me in return?’

  ‘Milligan’s being the usual bull in a china shop.’

  ‘Isn’t that your role?’

  ‘He’s pulled in Cam Colvin for a word.’

  ‘Stands to reason after the attack on the Gay Laddie.’

  ‘Much good it’ll do him.’

  ‘Remember me telling you I’m a sick man, Jack? This is hellish thin gruel you’re feeding me.’

  ‘I thought you were trying to lose weight, Eddie.’

  ‘I’d rather not lose my job at the same time. Newspapers don’t look good with big white gaps where the stories should be. If I don’t give my boss something soon, I might have to emigrate.’

  ‘I hear South Africa’s nice.’

  ‘Might explain why they’re taking out so many ads in the paper.’ Devlin gave Laidlaw a look. ‘But then you already know that.’

  ‘Because I read it religiously, Eddie. Nice to see Mr Heath’s keen on us joining the Commo
n Market. I hear Enoch Powell was in town recently, stirring up shit.’ He saw Devlin wince. ‘You were there?’

  ‘Editor’s orders.’

  ‘Then you’re every bit as well informed as me,’ he offered by way of apology. ‘I’ll happily let you trounce me at a frame of snooker if that would help ease the discomfort.’

  ‘I’ve seen you play snooker, Jack. I could read Proust in the original French in less time than it takes you to pot a ball.’

  ‘But only be half as entertained in the process,’ Laidlaw said, raising his emptied glass in a mock toast.

  23

  Colvin had gathered his men in the same function room at the Coronach Hotel, Dan Tomlinson providing alcohol-free drinks only. Panda Paterson would look in vain for snacks, Colvin having instructed Tomlinson to keep catering to a minimum. Colvin sat at the head of the table, producing a freshly laundered hankie and blowing his nose before starting to speak.

  ‘First thing to say is, it’s good to have you back, Spanner. I trust you were treated well at Central Division.’

  ‘I gave them nothing because there was nothing to give,’ Thomson said.

  Colvin nodded his apparent acceptance. ‘They doled me out the exact same treatment,’ he said, ‘albeit for different reasons. Seemed to think I might have sanctioned the attack on the Gay Laddie and those two punishment beatings. The word is, Rhodes’s men are giving Milligan’s team nothing, but didn’t actually see who it was that jumped them anyway.’ He paused to play with one of his gold cufflinks. ‘I can understand the impulse to do something, maybe thinking it would make a nice gift for me, tied with a ribbon and everything, but that’s not the way things work. So which one of you arseholes was it?’

  The four men exchanged glances and shrugs.

  ‘I’m inclined to rule out Spanner, not that he was in custody at the time, but cops were probably keeping an eye on him. Mickey, Dod and Panda – ball’s in your penalty box, so to speak.’

  ‘Nothing to do with me,’ Ballater muttered, while his colleagues shook their heads in agreement.

  ‘Someone further down the ranks then,’ Colvin offered. ‘I need you to find out who. Start with the eager beavers, the ones keenest to please you. They’re going to want to be found out, thinking it’ll mean a promotion, or at the very least a peck on the cheek.’

  ‘Have you considered Matt Mason, boss?’ Dod Menzies asked.

  ‘I’ve considered everything, Dod,’ Colvin snapped back. ‘What is it about me that makes you think I wouldn’t have?’

  Menzies held both palms out in a show of surrender. ‘Just saying, if anyone stands to gain from you and Rhodes squaring up to one another . . .’

  ‘Guessing games are all well and good, but it’s answers I need and you lot sitting around here on your fat arses isn’t bringing me them.’ Colvin fixed each man in turn with a look. ‘So get out there and get asking.’ As the four of them started rising to their feet, he turned his head towards Thomson. ‘Hang back a minute, Spanner,’ he ordered. ‘I want to compare notes with you about Ernie Milligan.’

  Colvin dribbled some more water into his glass as the others shuffled out, Paterson intimating to Thomson that they would wait in the car. Once the door was closed, Colvin waited another half-minute before giving Spanner Thomson his full and undivided attention.

  ‘What about Milligan?’ Thomson asked into the silence.

  ‘Anything you want to tell me, Spanner? Anything you might know that I don’t?’

  Thomson shook his head warily.

  ‘I’m talking about this morning rather than yesterday.’ Thomson’s shoulders slumped perceptibly. ‘John Rhodes,’ he said in an undertone.

  ‘Not very clandestine, was it? Driving down Castle Street in broad daylight. So what did he want?’

  ‘He thinks me getting pulled in might change things.’

  ‘What things?’

  ‘You and me, me and the others.’ Thomson jerked his head in the direction of the door.

  ‘And you planned on keeping this to yourself?’

  ‘I knew how it would look. How it does look. But John Rhodes is going to get nothing from me, that’s a promise.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it, because if you ever tried crossing me, I’d go after your whole family, from long-buried ancestors to third cousins twice removed that you didn’t even know you had. Understood?’

  ‘Christ’s sake, Cam, how long have we known one another?’

  Colvin struck the table with the flat of his hand. ‘That counts for fuck all, Spanner.’ He had bared his teeth, matching the ferocity of his tone. ‘Anyone comes for me, I drop the atomic bomb on them. Are we clear on that?’

  Thomson nodded sullenly.

  ‘Anything else to tell me about our friend Rhodes?’

  ‘He was waiting around the corner from my house.’

  ‘He wouldn’t have wanted the neighbours seeing. Even so, his presence in your company was noted, meaning he wasn’t too bothered about keeping it quiet. He’s playing games with us, Spanner, I hope you appreciate that. I’ve known you longer than just about anyone in my life. If Rhodes can drive a wedge between us, he reckons he can do anything.’

  Thomson couldn’t quite bring himself to make eye contact. ‘He told me Bobby was planning to jump ship and set up for himself. In competition, I mean.’

  Colvin gave a snort. ‘He told you that, aye?’

  ‘He also said it’s the sort of thing we’d expect him to say.’

  ‘John Rhodes wasn’t at the back of the queue when rank animal cunning was being handed out by the man upstairs.’

  ‘You think he was spinning me a line? I know you put a lot of trust in Bobby, Cam, but the rest of us didn’t quite see the same golden boy you did . . .’

  Colvin’s face darkened further. ‘Bobby was one of us, no matter what poison John Rhodes spouts. You’d do well to remember that.’

  ‘Yes, Cam.’

  ‘So if and when he contacts you again . . .?’

  ‘I come straight to you.’

  ‘Fucking right you do. And don’t you ever try keeping something like this from me again.’ Colvin paused. ‘And if you have any inkling who gave the nod for those hits last night . . .’

  ‘Swear to God I don’t.’

  ‘Then get out there and find out who it was!’

  Thomson sprang to his feet, but paused after a couple of steps. ‘Are we okay, Cam?’

  ‘You tell me, Spanner.’

  ‘I’d hate for us not to be.’ He waited a further moment, but his boss was busying himself with his cufflinks again.

  As Thomson yanked open the door, he saw Mickey Ballater a few yards down the corridor. Ballater started striding towards him.

  ‘Need a word with the chief,’ he explained. ‘I’ll see you in the car.’

  Thomson nodded and left, Ballater entering the room and closing the door behind him.

  ‘Everything okay, Cam?’ he enquired.

  ‘Something I can do for you, Mickey?’

  ‘Just wanted to make sure there’s not a problem with you and Spanner. If there is, you only have to ask.’

  Colvin pressed his hands together, fingertips to his lips. ‘I might need you to keep an eye on him for me. He had John Rhodes in his car this morning. If that happens again, I want to hear about it from one of my own guys rather than CID.’

  ‘What did Rhodes want?’

  ‘Most probably us fighting each other rather than him.’

  ‘But you’re not sure you can trust Spanner?’

  Colvin made a non-committal gesture.

  ‘The knife was planted near Spanner’s home,’ Ballater went on. ‘Next thing, John Rhodes is paying a visit. I’d say Rhodes fancies Spanner for the killing and wants us to know it.’

  ‘Or he’s covering for one of his own. You know Jenni Love and Chick McAllister used to be an item?’

  ‘That was a while back, though. And she’d broken things off with Bobby before he got done in.’

  �
�Jealousy’s weird, though, isn’t it? It’s not rational the way business is. When we pay a visit to someone, it’s always because of business. It’s never personal. Whenever I’ve seen anyone make a mess of things, it’s because they let the heart rule the head and they stopped thinking.’

  ‘Chick McAllister doesn’t have the shortest of fuses.’

  ‘He might harbour grudges, though, letting them fester quietly deep down.’

  ‘In which case he’s the one we should be watching, rather than Spanner.’

  ‘One step at a time, Mickey. Eyes on Spanner, find out who was busy last night, and after that we can focus on McAllister – agreed?’

  ‘One hundred per cent, Cam.’

  Colvin stretched an arm out so it rested along the back of the empty chair next to him. He didn’t have to say anything. The meaning was loud and clear and Mickey Ballater nodded his complete comprehension and acceptance of the implicit offer.

  *

  In the otherwise empty hotel car park, Menzies, Paterson and Thomson had the engine running so the heating was on. The Peugeot 504 was a big car, but they filled it – Menzies behind the wheel, Thomson in the passenger seat, Paterson in the back. Their eyes were on the hotel entrance, wondering what Mickey Ballater was up to.

  ‘Can we trust him?’ Menzies asked.

  ‘He’s hungry,’ Thomson answered. ‘And he thinks he’s smart.’

  ‘Neither of you had anything to do with last night?’ Paterson asked before taking another bite of his macaroon bar.

  ‘I know I didn’t.’

  ‘Me neither. How about you, Panda?’

  Paterson chewed and swallowed before replying. ‘I wouldn’t put it past Mickey, though. He likes to surround himself with the youngsters, showing off to them. I’m sure one or two would jump if he told them to. If he wants to go question any of them without us being there, that might be a sign that he needs us kept away from them in case they let something slip.’

  There were nods of agreement from the front seats.

  ‘I might as well tell you,’ Thomson added, ‘that I had a visit from John Rhodes this morning. He says he wants to be my buddy.’

  Dod Menzies snorted, kneading the steering wheel. His hands were gloved, the gloves a gift from his wife. They were made of the thinnest, softest leather, with a button to keep them nice and tight around the wrists. He always wore them when driving, and when carrying out various other tasks too.