Ian Rankin - Saints of the Shadow Bible

Where are we going?

Were just driving.

Driving where, though?

Rebus turned to look at his passenger. The mans name was Peter Meikle. He had served almost half his adult life in various Scottish and English prisons and had the pallor and bearing common to ex-cons. His face needed a shave and his sunken eyes were black, wary pinholes. Rebus had picked him up from outside a betting shop on Clerk Street. A few sets of lights and they were heading past the Commonwealth Pool and into Holyrood Park.

Its been a while, Rebus said. What are you up to these days?

Nothing you lot need worry about.

Do I look worried?

You look the same way you did when you laid me out in 1989.

That far back? Rebus made show of shaking his head in surprise. But be fair, Peter, you were resisting arrest and you had a temper on you.

Youre saying you didnt? When Rebus made no answer, Meikle resumed staring through the windscreen. The Saab was on Queens Drive now, skirting the cliff-like Salisbury Crags on the approach to St Margarets Loch. A few tourists were trying to feed bread to the ducks and swans, though a troop of swooping gulls seemed to be winning more than its fair share. Rebus was signalling right, beginning the climb that would snake around Arthurs Seat. They passed joggers and walkers, the city vanishing from view.

Could be in the middle of the Highlands, Rebus commented. Hard to believe Edinburghs somewhere down below. He turned again towards his passenger. Didnt you live around here at one time?

You know I did.

Northfield, I seem to think. The car was slowing, Rebus pulling over and stopping. He nodded in the direction of a wall with an open gate. Thats the short cut, isnt it? If you were coming into the park on foot? From Northfield?

Meikle just shrugged. He was wearing a padded nylon jacket. It made noises when he twitched. He watched Rebus break open a new pack of cigarettes and light one with a match. Rebus exhaled a plume of smoke before offering the pack to Meikle.

I stopped last year.

News to me, Peter.

Aye, Ill bet it is.

Well, if I cant tempt you, lets just get out for a minute. Rebus turned off the ignition, undid his seat belt and pushed open his door.

Why? Meikle wasnt budging.

Rebus leaned back into the car. Something to show you.

What if Im not interested?

But Rebus just winked and closed the door, heading around the car and across the grass towards the gateway. The keys were still in the ignition, and Meikle studied them for a good twenty or thirty seconds before cursing under his breath, composing himself and opening the passenger-side door.

Rebus was the other side of the parks perimeter wall, the eastern suburbs of the city laid out below him.

Its a steep climb, he was saying, shading his eyes with his free hand. But you were younger then. Or maybe you werent on foot bound to be a mates car you could borrow. All you had to tell them was you had something needed shifting.

This is about Dorothy, Meikle stated.

What else? Rebus gave a thin smile. Almost two weeks before she was reported missing.

It was eleven years ago. .

Two weeks, Rebus repeated. Your story was you thought shed gone to stay with her sister. Bit of a falling-out between the two of you. Well, there was no way you could deny that neighbours couldnt help hearing the shouting matches. So you might as well turn it to your advantage. Only now did Rebus turn towards the man. Two weeks, and even then it was her sister who had to contact us. Never a trace of Dorothy leaving the city we asked at the train and bus stations. It was like you were a magician and youd put her in one of those boxes. Open it up and shes not there. He paused and took half a step towards Meikle. But she is there, Peter. Shes somewhere in this city. He stamped his left foot against the ground. Dead and buried.

I was questioned at the time, remember?

Chief suspect, Rebus added with a slow nod.

She could have gone out drinking, met the wrong man. .

Hundreds of pubs we visited, Peter, showing her picture, asking the regulars.

Tried thumbing a lift then you can lose yourself in London.

Where she had no friends? Never touching her bank account? Rebus was shaking his head now.

I didnt kill her.

Rebus made show of wincing. This is just the two of us, Peter. Im not wearing a wire or anything; its for my own peace of mind, thats all. Once youve told me you brought her up here and buried her, thatll be the end of it.

I thought you werent working cold cases any more.

Where did you hear that?

Edinburghs being shut down, transferred.

True enough. But not everyone would be as informed as you seem to be.

Meikle gave a shrug. I read the papers.

Paying particular attention to police stories?

I know theres a reorganisation.

Why so interested, though?

You forgetting that Ive a history with you lot? Come to that, why arent you retired you must be on full pension by now?

I was retired thats what the Cold Case Unit was, a bunch of old hands still itching for answers. And youre right that our caseload has gone elsewhere. Rebuss face was by now only a couple of inches from Meikles. But Ive not gone, Peter. Im right here, and I was just getting started on reopening your case when it was taken away from me. Well, you know me, I like to finish what I start.

Ive got nothing to say.

Sure about that?

You going to slam me into a wall, knock me out cold again? Thats the way you and your lot always liked to operate. .

But Rebus wasnt listening. His attention had shifted to the mobile phone gripped in Meikles right hand. He snatched at it and saw that its recording function was on. With a grim smile, he tossed it into a thicket of gorse. Meikle gave a little yelp of complaint.

This the way you want it to go, Peter? Rebus asked, stubbing the remains of his cigarette against the wall. Always watching over your shoulder for someone like me? Waiting for the day a dog goes sniffing where it shouldnt and starts to dig?

Youve got nothing and you are nothing, Meikle spat.

You couldnt be more wrong. See, Ive got you. A finger was stabbed into Meikles chest. And as long as youre unfinished business, that makes me something you need to worry about.

He turned and headed back through the gateway. Meikle watched him climb into the Saab and start the engine. The car sped off with a burst of smoke from its exhaust. Swearing under his breath, Meikle began trampling down the gorse in search of his phone.

The Chief Constables leaving party took place at the canteen of Lothian and Borders Police HQ on Fettes Avenue. He was heading to a new post south of the border and no one seemed to know whether anyone would take over his role. The eight regional Scottish forces were soon to be amalgamated into something called Police Scotland. The Chief Constable of Strathclyde had been given the top job, leaving seven of his colleagues scratching around for fresh opportunities.

A perfunctory attempt had been made to turn the canteen into a festive location meaning a couple of banners, some streamers and even a dozen or so party balloons. Tables had been covered with paper tablecloths. There were bowls of crisps and nuts, and bottles of wine and beer.

Cakes arriving in half an hour, Siobhan Clarke told Rebus.

Then Im out of here in twenty.

You dont like cake?

Its the speeches thatll no doubt accompany it.

Clarke smiled and sipped her orange juice. Rebus held an open bottle of lager, but had no intention of finishing it too gassy, not cold enough.