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                                                                I.RANKIN. STANDING IN ANOTHER MAN'S GRAVE

                                                                                       

Из серии 'REBUS IS BACK' 

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He was back at Whicher's (Whicher's Hotel). Now that the initial fuss (an attention or too much of feeling) about the bodies had died down, they had rooms available, but Rebus wasn’t sure he would be staying. Instead, he sat in the lounge, plugged in his phone for a recharge, and ordered a helping (an amount of food given to one person at one time) of steak pie (a traditional English dish made from small pieces of meat in a sauce with pastry on top) and chips, along with a pot of tea.

     During the trip to the toilets, he had a wash and studied himself in a mirror. He looked like a man who had slept in his car. At reception, they handed him a lack containing toothbrush, toothpaste, razor and shaving cream, and he returned to the toilets for a patch-up job (to improve or repair something).

     With his belly full and another pot of tea on its way, he felt more human, there were plenty of papers to help him bide his time (to wait calmly for a good opportunity to do something), plus the hotel's copy of Cracking the Code. He'd asked for the TV to be turned to a news channel, but with the sound muted.

     'No trouble at all, sir,' he'd been told by the waiter in the tartan (any of numerous textile patterns consisting of stripes varying widths and colors crossed at right angles)  waistcoat (a short, sleeveless and collarless garment).

     A couple of hours passed with no word from Dempsey.

Rebus checked that his phone was still getting a healthy signal. When it did eventually ring, caller ID told him it was Siobhan Clarke on the line. Rebus answered.

     'Dempsey's just been having a word with James Page,' she told him. 'She's wondering if you're back in Edinburgh yet.'

     'And?'

     'And James spoke to DS (Detective Sergeant) Cowan at SCRU, but he hasn't seen you either.'

     'Funny, that.' 

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     'You're still in Inverness?'

     'Of course I am.' He told her about the CCTV - Kenny Magrath stopping to refuel at the petrol (a gasoline) station no more than five minutes after Annette McKie had left it on foot - then about Kenny and Gregor Magrath being taken in for questioning. 'Did Dempsey tell Page whether the interviews had finished?'

     'No idea,' Clarke confessed.

     'You and him not best buddies?'

     'Leave it, John.'

     'Pity - I really liked the guy.'

     'You don't take a telling (showing the truth about a situation or showing that someone really thinks), do you?'

     Rebus smiled to himself. 'Dempsey was supposed to be updating me,' he went on to explain. 'That's why I'm still here.'

     'You really think this is it, don't you?'

     'Hope springs eternal (used for saying that there is always a chance that something you wish for might happen).'

     'Well, I'm not sure Dempsey sounded like a woman on the verge (about to do something or experience something) of a breakthrough.'

     Rebus had another caller. Number blocked. He told Clarke he'd phone her back.

     'Rebus?' Gillian Dempsey said.

     'Any news?'

     'They've been questioned and released.'

     'And?'

     'And there's not much else to say. Kenny Magrath's work premises (the land and building owned by someone, especially by a company or organization) and van have been gone over (to examine or look at something in a careful or detailed way) - stuff's been sent to the lab but the team didn't sound hopeful. Same goes for both houses.'

     'What about the Land Rover?'

     Dempsey paused. 'That was your idea, was it?' Well, our friendly sheriff signed an extra warrant (an official document signed by a judge or other person in authority, which gives the police permission to search someone's home, arrest a person, or take some other action) , but again it looks clean.'

     'Clean or cleaned?'

     'Somebody may have cleaned it in recent memory,' she admitted. 'But not with the thoroughness you're implying .

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Besides, we know it was the van in Pitlochry rather than another vehicle, don't we?'

     'What does he say about the stop for petrol?'

     'He was on his way back from visiting his son in Glasgow and his tank was low.'

     'You don't think that's quite a coincidence?'

     'As it happens, I do, and so did he - he told his wife as much when Annette McKie became news, asked her if he should maybe come forward (to offer or give help or information). She reasoned there wasn't much point if he hadn't seen anything.'

     'Funny she didn't mention that to me.' Rebus closed his eyes and rubbed his hand across them.

     'You think she's covering for him?'

     'Sometimes that's what families do.'

     'Well,' Dempsey went on, ' unless the lab finds something, we're at a bit of a dead end, aren't we?'

     'Did you look at him in the interview room? I mean, really look him in the eye?'

     'I did more than that. I had a psychologist watching the camera feed. They didn't see anything that rang alarm bells. This is a family man, Rebus. Two grown-up kids and doting (showing that you love someone very much). Neighbours full of praise and not so much as a speeding ticket (a ticket issued for driving above the speed limit) to his name.'  

     'Will you at least do a bit more digging? Check where he was when the other victims were snatched (to take someone away by force) …'

     'I've asked him. He's going to have to go back through his paperwork to find out (to get information about something because you want to know more about it).'

     'Shouldn't that be your job?'

     'We've sent an officer to the house to fetch (to go to another place to get something) it all,' she said coldly. 'But as of this moment, we're still at the same dead end.' She paused. 'Incidentally (apart or aside from the main subject), can I ask where you are? Doesn’t sound like you're driving.' 

     'I'm not. I stopped at House of Bruar (the House of Bruar sits like a castle at the foot of the spectacular Bruar Falls, and is widely acknowledged as Scotland's most prestigious independent shop with wide range of clothing) for a break.'

     'You're heading back to Edinburgh, then?'

     'Just as you ordered.' Rebus rattled (to make a noise like a series of knocks) the cup in its saucer, so she could hear it. 'But you'll let me know if there's any news?'

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     'Of course. Oh, and by the way - giving that impromptu (done or said without earlier planning or preparation) statement to my nephew?' Not your brightest move, despite the manifest (show a quality or condition) competition…'

     She hung up on him, and he set the phone down on the table next to the teapot. He was the only person in the lounge. The papers had been gone through from cover to cover, and the TV was still showing footage of some football manager's fall from grace (a situation in which you do something that makes people in authority to stop liking you or admiring you). It seems as if the story was on a fifteen-minute loop, same pictures each and every time, and nothing about Edderton, not even on the ticker tape (a moving area on a screen that shows changing information such as share prices) of breaking news along the bottom of the screen.

     'What the hell do you do now?' Rebus asked himself. The answer came to him. 'Cigarette,' he said, rising to his feet.

     Forty minutes later, he was seated in the lounge again, staring into space, his mind swirling (to move quickly with twisting, circular movement) with thoughts, when he saw a face he knew: Gavin Arnold, in full uniform, cap tucked beneath one arm.

     'What are you doing here?' Rebus asked him.

     'Looking for you, at DCS Dempsey's behest (an authoritative command). This was second on my list.'

     'After?'

     'The Lochinver (is a second largest fishing port in Scotland, name of the bar).'

     'Want to sit down?'

     Arnold shook his head, looming (to appear as a large unclear shape or object) over Rebus.

     'I told her I was at House of Bruar,' Rebus went on.

     'Seems she wasn't taken in (to understand completely the meaning or importance of something). My orders are to escort you to the A9 and stick with you as far as Daviot.'

     'I'm being run out of town by the sheriff?'

     'That you are, Hopalong (go away).'

     'I didn't grass you up (to inform on someone, especially to the police), Gavin.'

     'I know that. But if she set her mind to it, it wouldn't take her five minutes to work out (to have a specified result) I’m the one who got you that visitor's pass.'

     'Well, we'd better get you into her good books (if you are in someone's good books, they are pleased with you) pronto (quickly and without delay), then.' Rebus rose to his feet and reached for his jacket. 'But if you should happen to hear anything on the grapevine (to hear news from someone who heard the news from someone else)…'

     'You'd be grateful for a tip-off (a secret warning or piece of secret information)?' Arnold guessed with a

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smile. 'Tell me, is it possible for anyone to come to know you without them always feeling they're slipping their neck into a noose (one end of a rope  tied to form a circle that can be tightened round something such as person's neck to hang them)?'

     'You'd have to ask my legion (large number of people) of friends.'

     'Do you need to settle up?' Arnold nodded towards the teapot.

     'Already done,' Rebus assured him.

     'We're ready for the off, then.'

     Rebus stopped in front of him, their faces mere inches apart. 'Kenny Magrath did it, Gavin. I've never been so sure of anything in my life.'

     'Then we'll catch him,' Arnold said.

     'Will we, though? We don't always, you know.'

     As they passed the reception desk, Rebus thought of Sally Hazlitt and the alternative identity she'd created, far from friends and family, spending her life always in motion, never quite able to trust or settle or drop her guard (to stop being careful to avoid danger or difficulty).

Arnold's patrol car stayed on Rebus's tail until the Daviot signpost, then dropped back (to return), flashing its headlights a couple of times as if to say a final, defining farewell.

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