In a House of Lies
- Автор: Рэнкин Иэн
- Серия: Inspector Rebus #22
- Год: 2018
- Язык: английский
- Год: Orion
- ISBN: 978-1-4091-7688-6
- Жанр: Полицейские детективы
Электронная книга - «In a House of Lies». Краткое содержание книги:
‘Once she’s finished at Poretoun House, yes.’
‘I dare say she’ll have to barge her way through a few TV crews. Meantime, the line we’re putting out is that enquiries are ongoing. No need to explain to the media that the fiscal doesn’t reckon the fingerprint evidence will fly in court. Mrs Bloom wants a meeting with the chief constable. Mollison is what she’ll get and he’ll tell her as little as he can. The reporters will be champing at the bit, but again, that’s not going to bother us unduly.’ He paused for effect. ‘What does bother me is that this was leaked in the first place. I know leaks can come from anywhere and plenty of people can be bought cheaply. I just hope to hell nobody points the finger our way.’ His eyes met those of each of his team in turn, Fox included. ‘And if they do, I trust I can say with hand on heart that I have every confidence in my officers.’
Having said his piece, he looked suddenly weary. Raising himself up, he rounded the desk and sat down.
‘Mollison’s going to be reporting directly to the chief. I doubt we’ll be replaced — inquiry’s too far along the tracks — but he raised it as a possibility, so I’m letting you know. Any questions?’
Fox cleared his throat. ‘What do we do about Jackie Ness?’
Sutherland stared back at Fox. ‘Jackie Ness?’ he said. ‘Quite frankly, Malcolm, and I say this with all sincerity — fuck him.’
31
The meeting was scheduled for a wine bar called the Savannah, off Sauchiehall Street. Clarke and Crowther arrived early — lighter traffic on the M8 than they’d feared, and the sat nav had proved equal to Glasgow’s one-way system — and ordered food.
‘What’s quickest?’ had been Clarke’s question to their server. The answer had been Glasgow tapas. The large wooden platter took up half the table: haggis balls, potato wedges with tomato dip, gobbets of crusty bread, and miniature glazed sausages. They didn’t talk much while they ate. On the drive west, Crowther had filled Clarke in on the search of Poretoun House. She’d arrived back in Leith just before five, the SOCOs having finished for the day at four. Attic and basement levels still to do.
‘He seemed almost gleeful,’ she had said, showing Clarke more photos on her phone of the search and Sir Adrian Brand.
‘Was Glenn Hazard with him?’
‘For about half an hour, mostly spent making calls and checking messages. Low boredom threshold, I think. He kept pestering me with questions about Jackie Ness.’
‘You going back tomorrow?’
‘Think I need to?’
‘It’s Graham’s call. Maybe you could swap with Phil.’
It had then been Clarke’s turn to give an update on the aftermath of the news conference. The press were camped outside Ness’s home and office, but the man himself had wisely gone to ground.
‘What about the family?’
‘Madam Bloom’s all over the news. Social media is a feeding frenzy.’
‘We should charge Ness, don’t you think?’
Clarke offered a shrug. ‘Graham’s having another word with the fiscal while the lab are trying to see if they can isolate any more partials on the cuffs.’
‘And all while we ask ourselves the same question — who was it spilled the beans to Dougal Kelly?’
Clarke nodded without saying anything. Their plates had been cleared by the time the two men arrived. They looked around, spotted Clarke and Crowther and wandered over.
‘I’m Joe Madden,’ the taller of the two said.
‘Colin Speke,’ his companion added. Clarke and Crowther introduced themselves. Madden and Speke pulled out chairs and got comfortable. The bar was midweek quiet and Clarke had showed her ID when asking for the music to be turned down. Madden and Speke took off their identical quilted jackets.
‘You know one another quite well?’ Clarke asked.
‘Aye, we’ve worked together a slew of times,’ Madden said in a local accent.
‘Live not too far apart either,’ Speke added. ‘So I offered Joe a lift here.’
‘Explains why you walked in together,’ Clarke said with a nod. Speke ordered an espresso and Madden a glass of red wine, Clarke and Crowther sticking to tap water.
‘How was the holiday?’ Clarke asked Speke.
‘Fine, aye. My partner likes the heat; I go crispy after an hour.’ He tugged up one sleeve of his jumper to show a reddened arm speckled with freckles.
‘And Italy?’ Clarke asked Madden.
‘Sunshine can be a curse when you’re filming,’ he informed her. ‘Getting the lighting right is a nightmare, and that’s before the presenter starts squinting.’
‘Well, we appreciate you taking the time to see us.’
‘It’s only taken you twelve years,’ Speke said with a smile.
‘Any reason you didn’t come forward of your own volition?’
‘To tell you what exactly?’ Madden interrupted. ‘That Stuart Bloom was an extra on a zombie film?’
Clarke sat back, mouth closed, running her tongue along her teeth.
Speke looked to his friend. ‘The inspector here knows better, Joe.’
Madden’s eyes were on Clarke. ‘Well maybe if she tells us what it is she knows...’
The silence lay between them as the drinks order arrived. Madden’s eyes stayed fixed on Clarke’s throughout.
‘I think we need to do this properly,’ Emily Crowther interrupted, earning a slow nod of agreement from Clarke.
‘Meaning what?’ Speke asked, the slightest of tremors appearing in his voice. He had started to lift his espresso cup but placed it back in its saucer untouched.
‘Interview room at Leith police station, Edinburgh,’ Clarke informed him. ‘Questioned separately so we can make sure your versions add up. See, you’ve had a bit of time to think this over. Tonight you probably put your heads together for an hour or so, deciding how little you could get away with telling us. That wasn’t terribly wise, as you’re finding out. So: do we start again from the beginning, or do we have a patrol car take you to Edinburgh? Plenty cameras waiting for you there, Mr Madden, and you’ll be the one squinting as you’re led past them into the station.’
Clarke sat back and waited. Eventually Madden smiled.
‘Can’t blame us for trying, can you? Nobody wants mixed up in a murder.’
‘That’s not what it was, though. Stuart Bloom was a missing person in 2006. You knew him yet you didn’t come forward.’
‘We were waiting for the phone to ring,’ Speke blurted out. ‘You’re right, we knew Stuart. We reckoned you’d be coming to talk to us.’
‘But you never did,’ Madden added. ‘And the longer we waited, the more we wondered why not. If you’d found any mention of us, you’d have picked up the phone or knocked on our door. Reason that didn’t happen was Stuart hadn’t kept any record of us. Why? Because he was meticulous that way.’ Madden tapped his forehead. ‘He kept pretty much everything up here. That way, there was nothing for anyone to find if they came snooping — I don’t mean the police, but people he was investigating. If they got wind of what he was up to, and sent their own investigator along for a nosy, or tried bugging his phone or getting into his computer...’ He tapped his forehead again, then raised his glass to his lips and sipped.
‘We were scared,’ Speke broke in.
‘Not scared, Colin,’ Madden corrected him. ‘Just cautious.’
‘So when he vanished, what did you think?’ Clarke asked.