Read Online Doors Open by Ian Rankin - Free Book Online

deserted, actually: chairs were being stacked by staff in brown overalls. Telephones were being unplugged from wall sockets. A lectern was being dismantled, plasma screens taken down. Someone had handed Laura a sheet of numbers, with a total circled in red at the foot of the page. Her face was difficult to read.

    ‘Hiya, Stanton,’ Ransome said. It took her a moment to place him, then a tired but genuine smile appeared.

    ‘Ransome, long time no see.’

    The two had been in the same year at college, shared a mutual friend so tended to be at the same parties, the same nights out. They’d lost touch for over a decade, until a reunion had taken them to their alma mater. A few more reunions had followed, though they’d last bumped into one another months back at a jazz concert in the Queen’s Hall. Laura stepped forward now and pecked him on both cheeks.

    ‘What brings you here?’ she asked.

    Ransome was making a show of studying the room and its contents. ‘I remember you saying you worked for an auction house . . . didn’t realise you actually run the show.’

    ‘You’re way off the mark.’ But she sounded flattered all the same.

    ‘If I’d arrived a bit earlier, would I have caught you in full flow?’

    ‘More of a constant trickle.’ She glanced at the sheet of numbers. ‘Markedly up on the winter sale, though, which is encouraging . . .’

    ‘I’m not interrupting?’ Ransome tried to sound concerned.

    ‘No, it’s fine.’

    ‘Only, I was passing and I thought I saw you enjoying a tête-à-tête with Chib Calloway.’

    ‘Who?’

    He met her stare. ‘You know, the gorilla with the shaved head. Was he shopping for anything in particular?’

    She knew who he meant now. ‘Didn’t seem to have much of a clue. He was asking at the end, how did all the bidding work?’ Her face tightened. ‘Is he in some sort of trouble?’

    ‘Since the day he climbed out of the cot. You’ve never heard of Chib Calloway?’

    ‘I’m assuming he’s not some distant relation of Cab?’

    The detective reckoned this deserved a smile, but it was gone by the time he spoke. ‘Streak of violence a mile wide. Fingers in many and sundry dirty pies.’

    ‘Is he trying to launder money?’

    Ransome’s eyes narrowed. ‘What makes you ask?’

    She gave a shrug. ‘I know it happens . . . I mean, I’ve heard of it happening elsewhere, other auction houses. Not here, though, God forbid . . .’ Her voice drifted away.

    ‘It’s something I might look into.’ Ransome rubbed the underside of his jaw. ‘I’ve half a feeling one of his “associates” brought him here today.’

    ‘There were two of them,’ Laura started to correct him, but Ransome shook his head.

    ‘I’m not talking about the performing monkeys - they’re called Johnno Sparkes and Glenn Burns. They provide muscle for Calloway when he doesn’t feel like doing his own dirty work. No, I mean the tall fellow, wears a suit well, brown hair combed back from his forehead and over his ears. He left here with a big bear of a man in green corduroy and another guy, skinny, short black hair and glasses.’

    She smiled at the description. ‘The Three Musketeers - that’s how I always think of them, they seem to get along so well, even though they’re different.’

    Ransome nodded as though this made perfect sense to him. ‘Thing about the Three Musketeers, though . . .’

    ‘What?’

    ‘As I recall, there were four of them.’ Having said which, he took out his notebook and asked Laura for their names.

    ‘Wasn’t one of them Porthos?’ she teased. But the detective, her old drinking chum from college, was past jokes and attempts at humour. Anxiety flashed in Laura’s eyes. ‘There’s no way any of them would have anything to do with a character like that,’ she said defensively.

    ‘Meaning there’s no reason you shouldn’t give me their names.’

    ‘They’re potential clients, Ransome. There’s every reason I shouldn’t