‘Making it even worse.’ She turned to Bain. ‘Eric, you’re going to have to cover for him.’
‘Door was open when we got there,’ Bain recited. ‘Botched break-in, probably …’
Siobhan nodded and smiled at him. Then she gave Bain’s hand a squeeze …
Donald Devlin was under police guard in one of the Western General’s private rooms. He’d half drowned in the river and was now in what the doctors were calling a coma.
‘Let’s hope he stays there,’ ACC Colin Carswell had said. ‘Save us the expense of a prosecution.’
Carswell hadn’t said anything at all to Rebus. Gill said not to worry: ‘He’s ignoring you because he hates making apologies.’
Rebus nodded. ‘I’ve just seen a doctor,’ he told her.
She looked at him. ‘So?’
‘Does that count as my check-up … ?’
David Costello was in custody at Gayfield Square. Rebus didn’t go near. He knew they’d be cracking open a few bottles of whisky and cans of beer, sounds of celebration drifting into the room where Costello was being questioned. He thought of the time he’d asked Donald Devlin whether his young neighbour was capable of killing: not cerebral enough for David. Well, Costello had found his method all the same, and Devlin had protected him … the old man sheltering the young.
When Rebus went home, he took a tour of his flat. It represented, he realised, the only fixed point of his life. All the cases he’d worked, the monsters he’d encountered … he dealt with them here, seated in his chair, staring out of his window. He found room for them in the bestiary of his mind, and there they stayed.
If he gave this up, what would be left? No still centre to his world, no cage for his demons …
Tomorrow he’d call the solicitor, tell her he wasn’t moving.
Tomorrow.
For tonight, he had new cages to fill …
14
It was a Sunday afternoon of sharp, low sunlight, the shadows impossibly long and skewed into an elastic geometry. Trees bowed by the wind, clouds moving like oiled machines. Falls, twinned with Anguish … Rebus drove past the signpost, glanced towards Jean, quiet in the passenger seat. She’d been quiet all week; slow to answer her phone or come to the door. The doctor’s words: nothing time can’t heal …
He’d given her the option, but she’d decided to come with him. They parked next to a sparkling BMW. There were traces of soapy water in the gutters. Rebus pulled on the hand-brake and turned to Jean.
‘I’ll only be a minute. You want to wait here?’
She thought about it, then nodded. He reached into the back for the coffin. It was wrapped in newspaper, a frontpage headline by Steven Holly. He got out of the car, leaving his door open. Knocked on the door of Wheel Cottage.
Bev Dodds answered. She had a smile fixed to her face and a frilly apron tied across her chest.
‘Sorry, not a tourist,’ Rebus said. Her smile faded. ‘Doing a roaring trade in tea and buns?’
‘What can I do for you?’
He lifted up the parcel. ‘Thought you might like this back. It’s yours, after all, isn’t it?’
She parted the sheets of newsprint. ‘Oh, thanks,’ she said.
‘It really is yours, isn’t it?’
She wouldn’t look at him. ‘Finders keepers, I suppose …’
But he was shaking his head. ‘I mean, you made it, Ms Dodds. This new sign of yours …’ He nodded in its direction. ‘Care to tell me who made it? I’m willing to bet you did it yourself. Nice piece of wood … I’m guessing you’ve a few chisels and such-like.’
‘What do you want?’ Her voice had grown chilly.
‘When I brought Jean Burchill here – there she is in the car, and she’s fine by the way, thanks for asking – when I brought her here, you said you often went to the Museum.’
‘Yes?’ She was staring over his shoulder, but averted her gaze when Jean’s eyes met hers.
‘Yet you’d never come across the Arthur’s Seat coffins.’ Rebus affected a frown. ‘It should have clicked with me right there.’ He stared at her, but she didn’t say anything. He watched her neck redden, watched her turn the coffin in her hands. ‘Still,’ he said, ‘brought you some extra business, eh? But I’ll tell you one thing …’
Her eyes were liquid; she brought them up to meet his. ‘What?’ she asked, voice cracking.
He pointed a finger at her. ‘You’re lucky I didn’t tag you sooner. I might have said something to Donald Devlin. And then you’d look like Jean back there, if not a damned sight worse.’
He turned away, headed back to the car. On the way, he unhooked the ‘Pottery’ sign and tossed it into the gutter. She was still watching from her doorway as he started the ignition. A couple of day-trippers were approaching along the pavement. Rebus knew exactly where they were headed and why. He made sure to turn the steering-wheel hard, running the sign over, front and back tyres both.
On the way back into Edinburgh, Jean asked if they were going to Portobello. He nodded, and asked if that was okay with her.
‘It’s fine,’ she told him. ‘I need someone to help me move that mirror out of the bedroom.’ He looked at her. ‘Just until the bruises have healed,’ she said quietly.
He nodded his understanding. ‘Know what I need, Jean?’
She turned towards him. ‘What?’
He shook his head slowly. ‘I was hoping you might tell me …’
Sexual repression and hysteria are what Edinburgh is all about.
Philip Kerr, ‘The Unnatural History Museum’
Afterword
Firstly, a big thank-you to Mogwai, whose ‘Stanley Kubrick’ EP was playing in the background throughout the final draft of this book.
The collection of poetry in David Costello’s flat is I Dream of Alfred Hitchcock by James Robertson, and the poem from which Rebus quotes is entitled ‘Shower Scene’.
After the first draft of this book was written, I discovered that in 1999 the Museum of Scotland commissioned two American researchers, Dr Allen Simpson and Dr Sam Menefee of the University of Virginia, to examine the Arthur’s Seat coffins and formulate a solution. They concluded that the most likely explanation was that the coffins had been made by a shoemaker acquaintance of the murderers Burke and Hare, using a shoemaker’s knife and brass fittings adapted from shoe buckles, the idea being to give the victims some vestige of Christian burial, since a dissected corpus could not be resurrected.
The Falls is, of course, a work of fiction, a flight of fancy. Dr Kennet Lovell exists only between its pages.
In June 1996, a man’s body was found near the summit of Ben Alder. He’d died of gunshot wounds. His name was Emmanuel Caillet, the son of a French merchant banker. What he was doing in Scotland was never ascertained. The report, produced from autopsy and scene-of-crime evidence, concluded that the young man had committed suicide. But there are enough discrepancies and unanswered questions to persuade his parents that this is not the real solution …
© Rankin
ABOUT IAN RANKIN
Ian Rankin, OBE, writes a huge proportion of all the crime novels sold in the UK and has won numerous prizes, including in 2005 the Crime Writers’ Association Diamond Dagger. His work is available in over 30 languages, home sales of his books exceed one million copies a year, and several of the novels based around the character of Detective Inspector Rebus – his name meaning ‘enigmatic puzzle’ – have been successfully transferred to television.
Introduction to DI John Rebus
The first novels to feature Rebus, a flawed but resolutely humane detective, were not an overnight sensation, and success took time to arrive. But the wait became a period that allowed Ian Rankin to come of age as a writer, and to develop Rebus into a thoroughly believable, flesh-and-blood character straddling both industrial and post-industrial Scotland; a gritty yet perceptive man coping with his own demons. As Rebus struggled to keep his relationship with daughter Sammy alive following his divorce, and to cope
with the imprisonment of brother Michael, while all the time trying to strike a blow for morality against a fearsome array of sinners (some justified and some not), readers began to respond in their droves. Fans admired Ian Rankin’s re-creation of a picture-postcard Edinburgh with a vicious tooth-and-claw underbelly just a heartbeat away, his believable but at the same time complex plots and, best of all, Rebus as a conflicted man trying always to solve the unsolvable, and to do the right thing.
As the series progressed, Ian Rankin refused to shy away from contentious issues such as corruption in high places, paedophilia and illegal immigration, combining his unique seal of tight plotting with a bleak realism, leavened with brooding humour.
In Rebus the reader is presented with a rich and constantly evolving portrait of a complex and troubled man, irrevocably tinged with the sense of being an outsider and, potentially, unable to escape being a ‘justified sinner’ himself. Rebus’s life is intricately related to his Scottish environs too, enriched by Ian Rankin’s attentive depiction of locations, and careful regard to Rebus’s favourite music, watering holes and books, as well as his often fraught relationships with colleagues and family. And so, alongside Rebus, the reader is taken on an often painful, sometimes hellish journey to the depths of human nature, always rooted in the minutiae of a very recognisable Scottish life.
The Oxford Bar – Rebus and many of the characters who appear in the novels are regulars of the Ox – as is Ian Rankin himself. The pub is now synonymous with the Rebus novels to the extent that one of the regular medical examiners called in to assist with investigations is named after the pub’s owner, John Gates.
Edinburgh plays an important role throughout the Rebus novels; a character itself, as brooding and as volatile as Rebus. The Edinburgh depicted in the novels is far short of the beautiful city that tourists in their thousands flood to visit. Hidden behind the historic buildings and elegant façades is the world that Rebus inhabits.
For general discussion
regarding the Rebus series
How does Ian Rankin reveal himself as an author interested in using fiction to ‘tell the truths the real world can’t’?
There are similarities between the lives of the author and his protagonist – for instance, both Ian Rankin and Rebus were born in Fife, lost their mothers at an early age, have children with physical problems – so is it useful therefore to think of John Rebus and Ian Rankin as each other’s alter egos?
Could it be said that Rebus is trying to make sense in a general way of the world around him, or is he seeking answers to the ‘big questions’? And is it relevant therefore that he is a believer in God and comes from a Scottish Presbyterian background? Would Rebus see confession in both the religious and the criminal sense as similar in any way?
How does Ian Rankin explore notions of Edinburgh as a character in its own right? In what way does he contrast the glossy public and seedy private faces of the city with the public and private faces of those Rebus meets?
How does Ian Rankin use musical sources – the Elvis references in The Black Book, for instance, or the Rolling Stones allusions in Let It Bleed – as a means of character development through the series? What does Rebus’s own taste in music and books say about him as a person?
What do you think about Rebus as a character? If you have read several or more novels from the series, discuss how his character is developed.
If Rebus has a problem with notions of ‘pecking order’ and the idea of authority generally, what does it say about him that he chose careers in hierarchical institutions such as the Army and then the police?
How does Rebus relate to women: as lovers, flirtations, family members and colleagues?
Do the flashes of gallows humour as often shown by the pathologists but sometimes also in Rebus’s own comments increase or dissipate narrative tension? Does Rebus use black comedy for the same reasons the pathologists do?
Do Rebus’s personal vulnerabilities make him understanding of the frailties of others?
How does the characterisation of Rebus compare to other long-standing popular detectives from British authors such as Holmes, Poirot, Morse or Dalgleish? And are there more similarities or differences between them?
THE FALLS
Flip, a 20-year-old art history student, is missing after joining a compulsive interactive internet game. A tiny doll in a coffin is discovered at a place called Falls, a companion perhaps to the mysterious eight surviving real-life Arthur’s Seat coffins from 1836 (and maybe also to several others found in recent years).
And soon the police realise that a while back the body of Jürgen, another student also keen on interactive games, was found on a remote Scottish hillside; while the other recently discovered dolls in coffins can be linked to a series of apparent suicides that may now have to be regarded as cases of murder.
Rebus doesn’t know what to make of the computer angle that seems to be commanding so much of the investigation, and so it is left to DC Siobhan Clarke to step into the breach, although she soon finds herself facing a series of ever more demanding challenges as she embarks on a life-or-death role-playing treasure hunt orchestrated by an enigmatic Quizmaster.
As Siobhan turns down a promotion and Rebus ignores instructions to see a doctor, the pair find themselves in bad odour with their new boss, DCS Gill Templer (who has history with Rebus), as they become gripped by a complex set of clues that may turn out instead to be mere distractions.
Ian Rankin shows Siobhan coming of age as a detective in The Falls, played out against the poignancy of Rebus’s understanding that technology is now taking over in many investigations and that a technophobe such as himself may be the last of a dying breed unless, of course, the drink gets to him first.
Discussion points for The Falls
There’s a new love interest for Rebus. Does he treat her better than previous partners?
David Costello comments that the Scots can be overly reductive – such as Old Town versus New, Catholic versus Protestant, east coast versus west – is this true in Ian Rankin’s interpretation, or is it, as Rebus responds, ‘an attraction of opposites’?
How does Ian Rankin make Donald Devlin, formerly Professor of Forensic Medicine, seem so creepy?
Curator Jean Burchill suggests, ‘Aren’t we all curious about the things we fear?’ Would Rebus agree?
Rebus claims that his enjoyment of police work is essentially voyeuristic and cowardly: ‘He concentrated on the minutiae of other people’s lives, other people’s problems, to stop him examining his own frailties and failings.’ How true is this?
‘He didn’t think he’d go quietly. They’d have to pull him screaming and kicking …’ Why isn’t Rebus looking forward to retirement?
‘“Such a beautiful city,” she [Jean] said. Rebus tried to agree. He hardly saw it any more. To him, Edinburgh had become a state of mind, a juggling of criminal thoughts and baser instincts … It was a crime scene waiting to happen.’ Is Rebus unable now ever to see the beauty of the city?
Might Rebus regard Father Conor Leary’s death as symbolic in some ways of his own looming retirement?
Why does Siobhan reject the Press Liaison job?
‘She had a gut feeling, but it was dangerous to depend on those: she’d seen Rebus screw up more than once on the strength of a gut feeling for someone’s guilt or innocence.’ Would Siobhan agree, though, that perhaps ‘gut feelings’ are integral to Rebus’s manner of policing?
When Siobhan says, ‘Let’s play it by ear, see which one of us Marr prefers,’ what is Rebus’s response?
What does the reader feel about Rebus’s treatment of the tourists he and Siobhan encounter at Falls?
Does the constantly missed doctor’s appointment become something of a running joke?
Discuss whether Siobhan is correct in believing that Gill Templer is ‘running scared’ since her new promotion?
How does Ian Rankin pun with ‘losing it’?
Is Rebus right to take the blame for
DS Ellen Wylie’s error of judgement?
Is Rebus often a ‘willing martyr’?
Big Ger Cafferty doesn’t feature in The Falls – is he missed?
AN ORION EBOOK
First published in Great Britain in 2001 by Orion Books.
First published in ebook form in 2008 by Orion Books.
This updated ebook published in 2011 by Orion Books.
Copyright © John Rebus Limited 2001
Introduction copyright © John Rebus Limited 2005
The right of Ian Rankin to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the copyright, designs and patents act 1988.
All the characters in this book are fictitious, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.