Read Online The Beat Goes On: The Complete Rebus Stories (Rebus Collection) by Ian Rankin - Free Book Online Page B

There had been a quiet euphoria on the day; now came the aftershock.
    ‘Where’s Jacqui?’ Dean asked, having paused with the glass to his lips.
    ‘Upstairs,’ Rebus explained. ‘I thought it would be better if she didn’t hear this.’
    Matthews’ fingers plucked at the arm-rests. ‘How much does she know?’
    ‘Not much. Not yet. Maybe she’ll work it out for herself.’
    ‘So, Inspector, we come to the reason why you’re here.’
    ‘I’m here,’ Rebus began, ‘as part of a murder inquiry. I thought that’s why you were here, too, Mr Matthews. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe you’re here to cover up rather than bring to light.’
    Matthews’ smile was momentary. But he said nothing.
    ‘I didn’t go looking for the culprits,’ Rebus went on. ‘As you said, Mr Matthews, that was your department. But I did wonder who the victim was. The accidental victim, as I thought. A young car thief called Brian Cant, that would be my guess. He stole cars to order. A client asked him for a red open-top Jag, even told him where he might find one. The client told him about Major Dean. Very specifically about Major Dean, right down to the fact that every day he’d nip into the wine-shop on the main street.’ Rebus turned to Dean. ‘A bottle of Irish a day, is it, sir?’
    Dean merely shrugged and drained his glass.
    ‘Anyway, that’s what your daughter told me. So all Brian Cant had to do was wait near the wine-shop. You’d get out of your car, leave it running, and while you were in the shop he could drive the car away. Only it bothered me that the client – Cant’s brother tells me he spoke with an Irish accent – knew so much, making it easy for Cant. What was stopping this person from stealing the car himself ?’
    ‘And the answer came to you?’ Matthews suggested, his voice thick with irony.
    Rebus chose to avoid his tone. He was still watching Dean. ‘Not straight away, not even then. But when I came to the house, I couldn’t help noticing that Miss Dean seemed a bit strange. Like she was waiting for a phone call from someone and that someone had let her down. It’s easy to be specific now, but at the time it just struck me as odd. I asked her about it this morning and she admitted it’s because she’s been jilted. A man she’d been seeing, and seeing regularly, had suddenly stopped calling. I asked her about him, but she couldn’t be very helpful. They never went to his flat, for example. He drove a flashy car and had plenty of money, but she was vague about what he did for a living.’
    Rebus took a photograph from his pocket and tossed it into Dean’s lap. Dean froze, as though it were some hair-trigger grenade.
    ‘I showed her a photograph of Brian Cant. Yes, that was the name of her boyfriend – Brian Cant. So you see, it was small wonder she hadn’t heard from him.’
    Matthews rose from the chair and stood before the window itself, but nothing he saw there seemed to please him, so he turned back into the room. Dean had found the courage to lift the photograph from his leg and place it on the floor. He got up too, and made for the decanter.
    ‘For Christ’s sake,’ Matthews hissed, but Dean poured regardless.
    Rebus’s voice was level. ‘I always thought it was a bit of a coincidence, the car being stolen only seconds before exploding. But then the IRA use remote control devices, don’t they? So that someone in the vicinity could have triggered the bomb any time they liked. No need for all these long-term timers and what have you. I was in the SAS once myself.’
    Matthews raised an eyebrow. ‘Nobody told me that,’ he said, sounding impressed for the first time.
    ‘So much for Intelligence, eh?’ Rebus answered. ‘Speaking of which, you told me that Major Dean here was in Intelligence. I think I’d go further. Covert operations, that sort of thing? Counter-intelligence, subversion?’
    ‘Now you’re speculating, Inspector.’
    Rebus shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter. What