Hide & Seek

‘Come on, I’ll take you.’ He placed a hand on Holmes’s shoulder and guided him out of the door again.

‘But how did you know?’ Holmes asked as they walked up the corridor.

‘Know what?’

‘Know it was Nell? Know about Nell and me?’

‘Well now, you’re a detective, Brian. Think about it.’

Rebus could see Holmes’s mind take on the puzzle. He hoped the process was therapeutic. Finally, Holmes spoke.

‘Nell’s got no family, so she asked for me.’

‘Well, she wrote asking for you. The broken nose makes it hard to understand what she’s saying.’

Holmes nodded dully. ‘But I couldn’t be located, and you were asked if you knew where I was.’

‘That’s close enough. Well done. How was Fife anyway? I only get back there once a year.’ April 28th, he thought to himself.

‘Fife? It was okay. I’d to leave before the bust. That was a shame. And I don’t think I exactly impressed the team I was supposed to be part of.’

‘Who was in charge?’

‘A young DS called Hendry.’

Rebus nodded. ‘I know him. I’m surprised you don’t, at least by reputation.’

Holmes shrugged. ‘I just hope they nab those bastards.’

Rebus had stopped outside the door of a ward. ‘This it?’ Holmes asked. Rebus nodded. ‘Want me to come in with you?’

Holmes stared at his superior with something approaching gratitude, then shook his head.

‘No, it’s all right. I won’t stay if she’s asleep. One last thing though.’

‘Yes?’

‘Who did it?’

Who did it. That was the hardest part to understand. Walking back along the corridor, Rebus saw Nell’s puffy face, saw her distress as she tried to talk, and couldn’t. She had signalled for some paper. He had taken a notebook from his pocket, and handed her his pen. Then she had written furiously for a full minute. He stopped now and took out the notebook, reading it through for the fourth or fifth time that evening.

‘I was working at the library. A woman tried to push her way into the building, past the guard. Talk to him if you want to check. This woman then butted me on the face. I was trying to help, to calm her down. She must have thought I was interfering. But I wasn’t. I was trying to help. She was the girl in that photograph, the nude photograph Brian had in his briefcase last night in the pub. You were there, weren’t you, in the same pub as us? Not easy not to notice - the place was empty, after all. Where’s Brian? Out chasing more salacious pictures for you, Inspector?’

Ian Rankin - Rebus 02 - Hide An

Rebus smiled now, as he had smiled then. She had guts, that one. He rather liked her, her face taped, eyes blackened. She reminded him a lot of Gill.

So, Tracy was leaving a silvery snail’s trail of chaos by which to follow her. Little bitch. Had she simply flipped, or was there a real motive for her trip to the University Library? Rebus leaned against the wall of the corridor. God, what a day. He was supposed to be between cases. Supposed to be ‘tidying things up’ before starting full time

on the drugs campaign. He was supposed, for the sake of Christ, to be having things easy. That’d be the day.

The ward doors swung shut, alerting him to the figure of Brian Holmes in the corridor. Holmes seemed lacking direction, then spotted his superior and came walking briskly up the hall. Rebus wasn’t sure yet whether Holmes was invaluable, or a liability. Could you be both things at once?

‘Is she all right?’ he asked solicitously.

‘Yes. I suppose so. She’s awake. Face looks a bit of a mess though.’

‘Just bruises. They say the nose will heal. You’ll never know it was broken.’

‘Yes, that’s what Nell said.’

‘She talking? That’s good.’

‘She also told me who did it.’ Holmes looked at Rebus, who looked away. ‘What’s this all about? What’s Nell got to do with it?’

‘Nothing, so far as I know. She just happened to be in the wrong place, et cetera. Chalk it down to coincidence.’

‘Coincidence? That’s a nice easy word to say. Put it down to “coincidence” and then we can forget all about it, is that it? I don’t know what your game is, Rebus, but I’m not going to play it any longer.’

Holmes turned and stalked off along the hall. Rebus almost warned him that there was no exit at that end of the building, but favours weren’t what Holmes wanted. He needed a bit of time, a break. So did Rebus, but he had some thinking to do, and the station was the best place for that.

By taking them slowly, Rebus managed the stairs to his office. He had been at his desk fully ten minutes before a craving for tea had him reaching for the telephone. Then he sat back, holding in front of him a piece of paper on which he had attempted to set out the ‘facts’ of the ‘case’.