'You got in touch?’
Claire nodded. She’d tucked one leg beneath her on the chair and was playing with a bracelet on her left wrist. ‘Sent her an e-mail, and we met up.’
'You saw her often after that?’
‘Not that often. Different courses, different workloads.’
‘Different friends?’ Rebus asked.
‘Some, yes,’ Claire agreed.
‘Did you keep in touch with anyone else from school days?’
‘One or two.’
‘And did Flip?’
‘Not really.’
‘How did she meet David Costello, do you know?’ Rebus already knew the answer—they’d met at a dinner party—but was wondering how well Claire knew Costello.
‘I think she said something about a party … ’
‘Did you like him?’
‘David?’ She was thoughtful. ‘Arrogant sod, very sure of himself.’
Rebus almost came back with: not at all like you then? Instead, he looked to Siobhan, who reached into her jacket for the folded note.
‘Claire,’ she said, ‘did Flip like to play games?’
‘Games?’
‘Role-playing … computer games … maybe on the Internet?’
She thought for a moment. Fine, except that Rebus knew you could use a pause to think up some story …
‘We had a dungeons and dragons club at school.’
'You were both in it?’
‘Until we realised it was strictly a boy thing.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Come to think of it, didn’t David play at school too?’
Siobhan handed her the sheet of clues. ‘Ever seen these before?’
‘What do they mean?’
‘Some game Flip was playing. What are you smiling at?’
‘Seven fins high … she was so pleased with that.’ Siobhan’s eyes widened.
‘Sorry?’
‘She came bounding up to me in some bar … God, I forget where. Maybe Barcelona.’ She looked at Siobhan. ‘It’s a bar on Buccleuch Street.’
Siobhan nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘She just … she was laughing … and she said this.’ Claire pointed to the sheet. ‘Seven fins high is king. Then she asked me if I knew what it meant. I told her I hadn’t the faintest. “It’s the Victoria Line,” she said. She seemed so pleased with herself.’
’She didn’t tell you what it meant?’
‘I’ve just said …’
‘I mean, about it being part of a quiz clue.’
Claire shook her head. ‘I thought … well, I don’t know what I thought.’
‘Was anyone else there?’
‘Not at the bar, no. I was getting some drinks in when she came running up.’
‘Do you think she told anyone else?’
‘Not to my knowledge.’
‘She didn’t explain any of the others?’ Siobhan gestured towards the sheet. She was feeling an intense rush of relief. Seven fins meant she’d been working out the same clues Flip had. Part of her had worried that Quizmaster was setting her new questions, questions specific to her. Now, she felt closer to Flip than ever.
‘Has this game got something to do with her death?’ Claire was asking.
‘We don’t know yet,’ Rebus told her.
‘And you’ve no suspects, no … leads?’
‘We’ve plenty of leads,’ Rebus was quick to assure her. ‘Tell me, you said you thought David Costello was arrogant. Did it ever go beyond that?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘We hear there were some pretty wild fallings-out between him and Flip.’
‘Flip could give as good as she got.’ She stopped abruptly, stared into space. Not for the first time in his life, Rebus wished he were a mind-reader. ‘She was strangled, wasn’t she?’
'Yes.'
‘From what I’ve seen on the forensics course, victims struggle. They’ll scratch and kick and bite.’
‘Not if they’re unconscious,’ Rebus said quietly.
Claire closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them, there were tears shining there.
‘Pressure on the carotid artery,’ Rebus went on.
‘Causing ante-mortem bruising?’ Claire could have been reading from a textbook. Siobhan nodded an answer.
‘Only seems like yesterday we were schoolgirls …'
‘This was in Edinburgh?’ Rebus asked, waiting till Claire had nodded. The first interview hadn’t gone into her background, except, as it related to Flip. ‘Is that where your family live?’
‘It is now. But back then, we lived in Causland.’
Rebus frowned. ‘Causland?’ He knew the name from somewhere.
‘It’s a village … more of a hamlet really. About a mile and a half from Falls.’
Rebus found himself gripping the arms of Dr Curt’s chair. 'You know Falls then?’
‘Used to.’
‘And Junipers, the Balfours’ house?’
She nodded. ‘For a while, I was more house guest than visitor.’
‘And then your family moved away?’
‘Why?’
‘My father …’ She broke off. ‘We had to move for his work.’
Rebus and Siobhan shared a look: it wasn’t what she’d been about to say.
‘Did you and Flip ever visit the waterfall?’ Rebus asked casually.
‘Do you know it?’
He nodded. ‘Been there a couple of times.’
She was smiling, eyes losing focus. ‘We used to play there, pretend it was our enchanted kingdom. Life Never-Ending we called it. If only we’d known …'
She broke down then, and Siobhan went to comfort her. Rebus walked into the outer office and asked the secretary for a glass of water. But by the time he got back with it, Claire was already recovering. Siobhan was crouching by the side of the chair, a hand on her shoulder. Rebus offered the water. Claire rubbed at her nose with a tissue.
‘Thank you,’ she said, compressing it to the single syllable kyoo.
‘I think that’s plenty to be going on with,’ Siobhan was saying. Rebus—who privately disagreed—nodded his compliance. 'You’ve been a big help, Claire.’
‘Really?’
It was Siobhan’s turn to nod. ‘We might be in touch again later, if that’s all right.’
‘Fine, whatever.’
Siobhan handed over her card. ‘If I’m not in the office, the pager w~ always find me.’
‘Okay.’ Claire slipped the card into one of her files.
‘Sure you’re all right?’
Claire nodded, stood up, clutching her files to her chest. ‘I’ve got another class,’ she said. ‘Don’t want to miss it.’
‘Dr Curt tells us you’re related to Kennet Lovell?’
She looked at him. ‘On my mother’s side.’ She paused, as if expecting a follow-up question, but Rebus didn’t have one.
‘Thanks again,’ Siobhan said.
They watched as she started to leave. Rebus was holding the door open for her. ‘Just one thing, Claire?’
She stopped beside him, staring up. 'Yes?’ she said.
'You told us you used to know Falls.’ Rebus waited till she’d nodded. ‘Does that mean you’ve not been there recently?’
‘I might have passed through.’
He nodded acceptance of this. She made to leave again. 'You know Beverly Dodds though,’ he added.
‘Who?’
‘I think she made that bracelet you’re wearing.’
Claire lifted her wrist. ‘This?’ It looked very much like the one Jean had bought: polished stones drilled and threaded. ‘Flip~gave it to me. Said something about it being “good magic”.’ She shrugged ‘Not that I believe in it, of course.
Rebus watched her leave, then closed the door. ‘What do you think?’ he asked, turning back into the room.
‘I don’t know,’ Siobhan admitted.
‘A bit of acting going on?’
‘The tears seemed real enough.’
‘I
sn’t that what acting’s all about?’
Siobhan sat down in Claire’s chair. ‘If a killer’s hiding in there, it’s buried deep.’
‘Seven fin high: say Flip didn’t come up to her at a bar. Say Claire already knew what it meant.’
‘Because she’s the Quizmaster?’ Siobhan shook her head.
‘Or another player,’ Rebus said.
‘Then why bother telling us anything?’
‘Because …’ But Rebus couldn’t think of an answer for that.
‘I’ll tell you what I’m wondering.’
‘Her father?’ Rebus guessed.
Siobhan nodded. ‘There’s something she was holding back.’
‘So why did her family move?’
Siobhan was thoughtful, but couldn’t think of a quick answer.
‘Her old school might tell us,’ Rebus said. While Siobhan went to ask the secretary for a phone book, Rebus called Bev Dodds’ number. She answered on the sixth ring.
‘It’s DI Rebus,’ he said.
‘Inspector, I’m a bit pushed at the moment … ’
He could hear other voices. Tourists, he guessed, probably deciding what to buy. ‘I don’t think,’ he said, ‘I ever asked you if you knew Philippa Balfour.’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘Do you mind if I ask you now?’
‘Not at all.’ She paused. ‘The answer is no.’
'You never met her?’
‘Never. Why do you ask?’
‘A friend of hers is wearing a bracelet she says Philippa gave her. It looks to me like one of yours.’
‘Quite possible.’
‘But you didn’t sell it to Philippa?’
‘If it’s one of mine, chances are she bought it in a shop. There’s a craft shop in Haddington takes my work, and another in Edinburgh.’
‘What’s the name of the one in Edinburgh?’
‘Wiccan Crafts. It’s on Jeffrey Street, if you’re interested. Now, if you don’t mind … ’ But Rebus had already put down the phone. Siobhan was coming back in with the number for Flip’s old school. Rebus made the call, putting the speaker on so Siobhan could listen. The headmistress had been one of the teachers during Flip and Claire’s time there.
‘Poor, poor Philippa, it’s terrible news … and what her family must be going through,’ the headmistress said.
‘I’m sure they’ve got every support,’ Rebus commiserated, trying to get as much sincerity into his voice as he could.
There was a long sigh at the other end of the line.
‘But actually, I’m phoning in connection with Claire.’
‘Claire?’
‘Claire Benzie. It’s part of the background, trying to build up a picture of Philippa. I believe she and Claire were good friends at one time.’
‘Pretty good, yes.
‘They lived near one another, too?’
‘That’s right. Out East Lothian way.’
Rebus had a thought. ‘How did they get to school?’
‘Oh, Claire’s father usually drove them in. Either him or Philippa’s mother. A lovely lady, I do grieve for her so …'
‘Claire’s father worked in Edinburgh then?’
‘Oh, yes. Some sort of lawyer.’
‘Is that why the family moved? Was it to do with his work?’
‘Dear me, no. I think they were evicted.’
‘Evicted?’
‘Well, one shouldn’t gossip, but with him being deceased I don’t suppose it matters.’
‘We’ll hold it in strictest confidence,’ Rebus said, looking at Siobhan.
‘Well, it’s just that the poor man made some bad investments. I believe he was always a bit of a gambler, and it looks like this time he went too far, lost thousands … his house … the lot.’
‘How did he die?’
‘I think you’ve guessed. He booked into a seaside hotel quite shortly thereafter, and took an overdose of some kind of tablets. It’s quite a tumble after all, isn’t it, from lawyer to bankrupt …?’
'Yes, it is,’ Rebus agreed. ‘Many thanks for that.’
'Yes, I’d better go. I’ve some sort of curriculum meeting to attend.’ Her tone told Rebus this was a regular occurrence, and not one to be savoured. ‘Such a pity, two families torn apart by tragedy.’
‘Goodbye then,’ Rebus said, putting down the phone. He looked at Siobhan.
‘Investments?’ she echoed.
‘And who would he trust if not the father of his daughter’s best friend?’
Siobhan nodded. ‘John Balfour’s about to bury his daughter,’ she reminded him.
‘Then we’ll talk to someone else at the bank.’
Siobhan smiled. ‘I know just the man … '
’Ranald Marr was at Junipers, so they drove out to Falls. Siobhan asked if they could stop and look at the waterfall. A couple of tourists were doing the same thing. The man was taking a photo of his wife. He asked Rebus if he’d take one of the pair of them together. His voice was Edinburgh.
‘What brings you here?’ Rebus asked, feiguing innocence.
‘Same thing as you most likely,’ the man said, positioning himself next to his wife. ‘Make sure you get the wee waterfall in.’
'You mean you’re here because of the coffin?’ Rebus said, peering through the view-finder.
‘Aye, well, she’s dead now, isn’t she?’
‘She is that,’ Rebus said.
‘Sure you’re getting us in?’ the man asked worriedly.
‘Perfect,’ Rebus said, pressing the button. When the film was developed, there’d be a picture of sky and trees, nothing more.
‘Wee tip,’ the man said, taking his camera back. He nodded towards one of the trees. ‘She’s the one found the coffin.’
Rebus looked. There was a crude sign pinned to the tree, advertising Bev Dodds’ Pottery. A hand-drawn map showed her cottage. ‘Pottery for Sale, Teas and Coffees.’ She was branching out.
‘Did she show you it?’ Rebus asked, knowing fine well the answer. The Falls coffin was locked away with the others at St Leonard’s. He’d had about a dozen’ messages from the potter, and, knowing what she wanted, hadn’t responded to any of them.
The tourist shook his head in disappointment. ‘Police are holding on to it.’
Rebus nodded. ‘So where’s your next stop?’
‘Thought we’d go look at Junipers,’ his wife said. ‘Always supposing we can find it. Took us half an hour to find this place.’ She looked at Siobhan. ‘They don’t believe in signposts out here, do they?’
‘I know where Junipers is.’ Rebus spoke authoritatively. 'You head back down the lane, left through the town. There’s a housing scheme on the right called Meadowside. Drive into it and you’ll see Junipers just beyond.’
The man beamed. ‘Magic, thanks a lot.’
‘No problem,’ Rebus told him. The tourists waved their goodbyes, eager to be back on the trail.
Siobhan sidled over towards Rebus. ‘Completely erroneous?’
‘They’ll be lucky to get out of Meadowside with four tyres still on their car.’ He grinned at her. ‘My good deed for the day.’
Back in the car, Rebus turned to Siobhan. ‘How do you want to play this?’
‘First off, I want to know if Marr’s a Mason.’
Rebus nodded. ‘I’ll handle that.’
‘Then I think we dive straight in with Hugo Benzie.’
Rebus was still nodding. ‘Which one of us asks the questions?’
Siobhan sat back. ‘Let’s play it by ear, see which one of us Marr prefers.’ Rebus looked at her. 'You don’t agree?’ she asked.
He shook his head. ‘It’s not that.’
‘What then?’
‘It’s almost exactly what I’d have said, that’s all.’
She turned towards him, held his eyes. ‘Is that a good thing or a bad thing?’
Rebus’s face cracked into a smile. ‘I’m still trying to decide,’ he said, turning the ignition.
&
nbsp; The gates at Junipers were being protected by two uniforms, including Nicola Campbell, the WPC he’d met on his first visit. A lone reporter had parked his car on the verge across the road. He was drinking something from a flask, watched Rebus and Siobhan draw up at the gates, then went back to his crossword. Rebus wound down his window.
‘No more phone taps?’ he asked.
‘Not now there’s no kidnap,’ Campbell replied.
‘What about Brains?’
‘Back at the Big House: something came up.
‘I see there’s one vulture.’ Rebus meant the reporter. ‘Any ghouls?’
‘A few.’
‘Well, a couple more may be on their way. Who’s up there?’ Rebus pointed through the gates.
‘DCS Templer, DC Hood.’
‘Planning the next press conference,’ Siobhan guessed.
‘Who else?’ Rebus asked Campbell.
‘The parents,’ she told him, ‘house staff … someone from the funeral home. And a family friend.’
Rebus nodded. He turned to Siobhan. ‘Wonder if we’ve talked to the staff: sometimes they see and hear things … ’ Campbell was opening the gates.
‘DS Dickie interviewed them,’ Siobhan said.
‘Dickie?’ Rebus put the car into gear, crawled through the gates. ‘That clock-watching wee nyaff?’
She looked at him. 'You want to do it all yourself, don’t you?’
‘Because I don’t trust anyone else to do it right.’
‘Thanks very much.’
He took his eyes off the windscreen. ‘There are exceptions,’ he said.
Four cars were parked in the driveway outside the house, the same driveway Jacqueline Balfour had come stumbling down, thinking Rebus her daughter’s abductor.
‘Grant’s Alfa,’ Siobhan commented.
‘Chauffeuring the boss.’ Rebus guessed that the black Volvo S40 belonged to the funeral home, leaving a bronze Maserati and a green Aston Martin DB7. He couldn’t decide which belonged to Ranald Marr and which to the Balfours, and said as much.
‘The Aston’s John Balfour’s,’ Siobhan told him. He looked at her.
‘Is that a guess?’ he asked.
She shook her head. ‘It’s in the notes.’
'You’ll be telling me his shoe size next.’
A maid answered the door. They showed their warrant cards and were ushered into the hall. The maid headed off without saying anything. Rebus had never really seen anyone walking on tiptoe before. No voices could be heard anywhere.