offered.
At reception, they signed her in as one half of a couple – Mrs Angus Campbell. The two Crime Squad cops had the routine off pat. Rebus watched the hotel clerk, but a wink from Claverhouse told him the man was okay.
‘Make it the first floor, Malcolm,’ Ormiston said. ‘Don’t want anyone peeking in the windows.’
Room number 20. ‘Will someone be with her?’ Rebus asked as they climbed the stairs.
‘Right there in the room,’ Claverhouse said. ‘The landing’s too obvious, and we’d freeze our bums off in the car. Did you give me Colquhoun’s number?’
‘Ormiston has it.’
Ormiston was unlocking the door. ‘Who’s on first watch?’
Claverhouse shrugged. Candice was looking towards Rebus, seeming to sense what was being discussed. She snatched at his arm, jabbering in her native tongue, looking first to Claverhouse and then to Ormiston, all the time waving Rebus’s arm.
‘It’s okay, Candice, really. They’ll take care of you.’
She kept shaking her head, holding him with one hand and pointing at him with the other, prodding his chest to make her meaning clear.
‘What do you say, John?’ Claverhouse asked. ‘A happy witness is a willing witness.’
‘What time’s Siobhan expected?’
‘I’ll hurry her up.’
Rebus looked at Candice again, sighed, nodded. ‘Okay.’ He pointed to himself, then to the room. ‘Just for a little while, okay?’
Candice seemed satisfied with this, and went inside. Ormiston handed Rebus the key.
‘I don’t want you young things waking the neighbours now …’
Rebus closed the door on his face.
The room was exactly as expected. Rebus filled the kettle and switched it on, dumped a tea-bag into a cup. Candice pointed to the bathroom, made turning motions with her hands.
‘A bath?’ He gestured with his arm. ‘Go ahead.’
The curtain over the window was closed. He parted it and looked out. A grassy slope, occasional lights from the bypass. He made sure the curtains were closed tight, then tried adjusting the heating. The room was stifling. There didn’t seem to be a thermostat, so he went back to the window and opened it a fraction. Cold night air, and the swish of nearby traffic. He opened the pack of custard creams, two small biscuits. Suddenly he felt ravenous. He’d seen a snack machine in the lobby. Plenty of change in his pockets. He made the tea, added milk, sat down on the sofa. For want of any other distractions, he turned the TV on. The tea was fine. The tea was absolutely fine, no complaints there. He picked up the phone and called Jack Morton.
‘Did I wake you?’
‘Not really. How’s it going?’
‘I wanted a drink today.’
‘So what’s new?’
Rebus could hear his friend making himself comfortable. Jack had helped Rebus get off the booze. Jack had said he could phone any time he liked.
‘I had to talk to this scumbag, Tommy Telford.’
‘I know the name.’
Rebus lit a cigarette. ‘I think a drink would have helped.’
‘Before or after?’
‘Both.’ Rebus smiled. ‘Guess where I am now?’
Jack couldn’t, so Rebus told him the story.
‘What’s your angle?’ Jack asked.
‘I don’t know.’ Rebus thought about it. ‘She seems to need me. It’s been a long time since anyone’s felt like that.’ As he said the words, he feared they didn’t tell the whole story. He remembered another argument with Rhona, her screaming that he’d exploited every relationship he’d ever had.
‘Do you still want that drink?’ Jack was asking.
‘I’m a long way from one.’ Rebus stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Sweet dreams, Jack.’
He was on his second cup of tea when she came back in, wearing the same clothes, her hair wet and hanging in rat’s-tails.
‘Better?’ he asked, making the thumbs-up sign. She nodded, smiling. ‘Do you want some tea?’ He pointed to the kettle. She nodded again, so he made her a cup. Then he suggested a trip to the snack machine. Their haul included crisps, nuts,
At reception, they signed her in as one half of a couple – Mrs Angus Campbell. The two Crime Squad cops had the routine off pat. Rebus watched the hotel clerk, but a wink from Claverhouse told him the man was okay.
‘Make it the first floor, Malcolm,’ Ormiston said. ‘Don’t want anyone peeking in the windows.’
Room number 20. ‘Will someone be with her?’ Rebus asked as they climbed the stairs.
‘Right there in the room,’ Claverhouse said. ‘The landing’s too obvious, and we’d freeze our bums off in the car. Did you give me Colquhoun’s number?’
‘Ormiston has it.’
Ormiston was unlocking the door. ‘Who’s on first watch?’
Claverhouse shrugged. Candice was looking towards Rebus, seeming to sense what was being discussed. She snatched at his arm, jabbering in her native tongue, looking first to Claverhouse and then to Ormiston, all the time waving Rebus’s arm.
‘It’s okay, Candice, really. They’ll take care of you.’
She kept shaking her head, holding him with one hand and pointing at him with the other, prodding his chest to make her meaning clear.
‘What do you say, John?’ Claverhouse asked. ‘A happy witness is a willing witness.’
‘What time’s Siobhan expected?’
‘I’ll hurry her up.’
Rebus looked at Candice again, sighed, nodded. ‘Okay.’ He pointed to himself, then to the room. ‘Just for a little while, okay?’
Candice seemed satisfied with this, and went inside. Ormiston handed Rebus the key.
‘I don’t want you young things waking the neighbours now …’
Rebus closed the door on his face.
The room was exactly as expected. Rebus filled the kettle and switched it on, dumped a tea-bag into a cup. Candice pointed to the bathroom, made turning motions with her hands.
‘A bath?’ He gestured with his arm. ‘Go ahead.’
The curtain over the window was closed. He parted it and looked out. A grassy slope, occasional lights from the bypass. He made sure the curtains were closed tight, then tried adjusting the heating. The room was stifling. There didn’t seem to be a thermostat, so he went back to the window and opened it a fraction. Cold night air, and the swish of nearby traffic. He opened the pack of custard creams, two small biscuits. Suddenly he felt ravenous. He’d seen a snack machine in the lobby. Plenty of change in his pockets. He made the tea, added milk, sat down on the sofa. For want of any other distractions, he turned the TV on. The tea was fine. The tea was absolutely fine, no complaints there. He picked up the phone and called Jack Morton.
‘Did I wake you?’
‘Not really. How’s it going?’
‘I wanted a drink today.’
‘So what’s new?’
Rebus could hear his friend making himself comfortable. Jack had helped Rebus get off the booze. Jack had said he could phone any time he liked.
‘I had to talk to this scumbag, Tommy Telford.’
‘I know the name.’
Rebus lit a cigarette. ‘I think a drink would have helped.’
‘Before or after?’
‘Both.’ Rebus smiled. ‘Guess where I am now?’
Jack couldn’t, so Rebus told him the story.
‘What’s your angle?’ Jack asked.
‘I don’t know.’ Rebus thought about it. ‘She seems to need me. It’s been a long time since anyone’s felt like that.’ As he said the words, he feared they didn’t tell the whole story. He remembered another argument with Rhona, her screaming that he’d exploited every relationship he’d ever had.
‘Do you still want that drink?’ Jack was asking.
‘I’m a long way from one.’ Rebus stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Sweet dreams, Jack.’
He was on his second cup of tea when she came back in, wearing the same clothes, her hair wet and hanging in rat’s-tails.
‘Better?’ he asked, making the thumbs-up sign. She nodded, smiling. ‘Do you want some tea?’ He pointed to the kettle. She nodded again, so he made her a cup. Then he suggested a trip to the snack machine. Their haul included crisps, nuts,
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