Read Online The Impossible Dead by Ian Rankin - Free Book Online

metropolis.’
    ‘Arm’s-length, Evelyn. This way no one can accuse you of looking out for your own.’
    ‘You think we’d do that?’
    ‘It wouldn’t be me pointing the finger.’ He paused. ‘If it’s any consolation …’
    ‘I’m not looking for consolation, Malcolm.’ With her free hand she gave his forearm a squeeze, and he knew she was offering herself as ally rather than foe.
    ‘Carter is walking the streets,’ Fox said. ‘Did you know that?’
    She nodded. They were making towards the dock at the Esplanade’s northern end. There was a solitary fishing boat moored there, but no sign of life apart from some fierce-looking gulls.
    ‘We’re thinking it might be nice to hear what he says to Scholes and the others.’
    ‘Oh?’
    ‘Home and mobile phones.’
    ‘Of four detectives?’
    ‘Three: Carter’s appeal – if he starts one – would have a field day if we eavesdropped on him.’
    ‘I’m not sure we can stretch to it, Malcolm.’
    ‘Manpower or resources?’
    She exhaled noisily. ‘Both, if I’m being honest. Basically, you’re looking at Fife’s Complaints department. I’m it. I mean, I can always requisition a few bodies in an emergency …’
    ‘Is that what you did when Alan Carter made the original complaint?’
    She nodded, pushing some hair back from her face. ‘Scholes is the one Carter’s close to. If I was going to look at anybody, it would be him.’
    ‘We saw him leaving Carter’s house yesterday.’
    ‘You mean the surveillance is up and running?’
    Fox shook his head again. ‘We were just passing.’
    Her eyes narrowed. ‘Passing through the Dunnikier Estate?’
    ‘In a manner of speaking.’
    She scrutinised his face, then gave a short laugh. ‘God, the things we do,’ she said. He wasn’t sure if she meant their job or was thinking back to that night in Tulliallan; best, he felt, not to risk asking.
    ‘You know I’d need to go to my boss?’ she said after a moment’s thought. ‘And he’d have to go to his boss?’
    Fox nodded.
    ‘And I’m allowed to tell them it’s your idea?’
    He nodded again.
    ‘All this, just to prove whether or not some colleagues stuck up for one of their own?’
    ‘Perjuring themselves in the process,’ Fox reminded her.
    She ran her finger down the bridge of her nose, a nose Fox suddenly remembered kissing. She’d had a lot to drink at the bar that night. He’d been the sober one, the one who should have seen her only as far as her bedroom door. But she’d had a kettle in her room. And sachets of instant coffee. And a narrow single bed …
    ‘What do you think?’ he asked her now.
    ‘I think it’s freezing out here.’
    ‘Whatever your answer is, thanks for meeting with me.’
    This time she patted his arm, and they turned to walk back to her car. Having reached it in silence, she asked him where he had parked. He nodded in the vague direction of the town centre. She unlocked her car and got in. It was an Alfa Romeo with a dark-blue interior.
    Fox closed the door for her and watched her start the ignition. The window slid downwards and she peered up at him. ‘I was at Fettes a few months back, running an errand. I considered knocking on your door.’
    ‘You should have.’
    She released the brake, gave him a wave, and was gone. Fox stayed where he was until he couldn’t see the car any more, then crossed the street and headed for the café in the Mercat shopping centre. Kaye and Naysmith were waiting there, drinking coffee and reading their chosen newspapers: Guardian for Naysmith, Daily Record for Kaye.
    ‘Don’t order anything,’ Kaye warned Fox. ‘Not a patch on the other place.’
    ‘Closer to the car, though,’ Fox reminded him. Kaye’s eyes were fixed on him, awaiting his report.
    ‘It’s a “maybe”,’ he obliged, squeezing into the booth. Kaye’s nostrils flared and he leaned over to sniff Fox’s coat. ‘Chanel Number 5, unless I’m losing my touch. Your contact’s not a bloke,