Hide & Seek

‘Would you like my jacket?’ he asked.

‘Only if your wallet’s in it,’ she said with a quick smile.

He smiled back, and offered a cigarette instead, which she accepted. He didn’t take one for himself. There were only three left out of the day’s ration, and the evening stretched ahead of him.

‘Do you know who Ronnie’s dealer was?’ he asked casually, helping her to light the cigarette. With her head tucked into his open jacket, the lighter shaking in her hand, she shook her head. Eventually, the windbreak worked, and she sucked hard at the filter.

‘I was never really sure,’ she said. ‘It was something else he didn’t talk about.’

‘What did he talk about?’

She thought about this, and smiled again. ‘Not much, now you mention it. That was what I liked about him. You always felt there was more to him than he was letting on.’

‘Such as?’

She shrugged. ‘Might have been anything, might have been nothing.’

This was harder work than Rebus had anticipated, and he really was getting cold. It was time to speed things up.

‘He was in the bedroom when you found him?’

‘Yes.’

‘And the squat was empty at the time?’

‘Yes. Earlier on, there’d been a few people there, but they’d all gone. One of them was up in Ronnie’s room, but I didn’t know him. Then there was Charlie.’

‘You mentioned him on the telephone.’

‘Yes, well, when I found Ronnie, I went looking for him. He’s usually around somewhere, in one of the other squats or in town doing a bit of begging. Christ, he’s strange.’

‘In what way?’

‘Didn’t you see what was on the living-room wall?’

‘You mean the star?’

‘Yes, that was Charlie. He painted it.’

‘He’s keen on the occult then?’

‘Mad keen.’

‘What about Ronnie?’

‘Ronnie? Jesus, no. He couldn’t even stand to watch horror films. They scared him.’

‘But he had all those horror books in his bedroom.’

‘That was Charlie, trying to get Ronnie interested. All they did was give him more nightmares. And all those did was push him into taking more smack.’

‘How did he finance his habit?’ Rebus watched a small boat come gliding through the mist. Something fell from it into the water, but he couldn’t tell what.

‘I wasn’t his accountant.’

‘Who was?’ The boat was turning in an arc, slipping further west towards Queensferry.

‘Nobody wants to know where the money comes from, that’s the truth. It makes you an accessory, doesn’t it?’

‘That depends.’ Rebus shivered.

‘Well, I didn’t want to know. If he tried to tell me, I put my hands over my ears.’

‘He’s never had a job then?’

‘I don’t know. He used to talk about being a photographer. That’s what he’d set his heart on when he left school. It was the only thing he wouldn’t pawn, even to pay for his habit.’

Rebus was lost. ‘What was?’

‘His camera. It cost him a small fortune, every penny saved out of his social security.’

Social security: now there was a phrase. But Rebus was sure there had been no camera in Ronnie’s bedroom. So add robbery to the list.

‘Tracy, I’ll need a statement.’

She was immediately suspicious. ‘What for?’

‘Just so I’ve got it on record, so we can do something about Ronnie’s death. Will you help me do that?’

It was a long time before she nodded. The boat had disappeared. There was nothing floating in the water, nothing left in its wake. Rebus put a hand on Tracy’s shoulder, but gently.

‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘The car’s this way.’

After she had made her statement, Rebus insisted on driving her home, dropping her several streets from her destination but knowing her address now.

‘Not that I can swear to be there for the next ten years,’ she had said. It didn’t matter. He had given her his work and home telephone numbers. He was sure she would keep in touch.

‘One last thing,’ he said, as she was about to close the car door. She leaned in from the pavement. ‘Ronnie kept shouting “They’re coming.” Who do you think he meant?’

She shrugged. Then froze, remembering the scene. ‘He

was strung out, Inspector. Maybe he meant the snakes and spiders.’

Yes, thought Rebus, as she closed the door and he started the car. And then maybe he meant the snakes and spiders who’d supplied him.

Back at Greater London Road station, there was a message that Chief Superintendent Watson wanted to see him. Rebus called his superior’s office.

‘I’ll come along now, if I may.’

The secretary checked, and confirmed that this would be okay.

Rebus had come across Watson on many occasions since the superintendent’s posting had brought him from the far north to Edinburgh. He seemed a reasonable man, if just a little, well, agricultural for some tastes. There were a lot of jokes around the station already about his Aberdonian background, and he had earned the whispered nickname of ‘Farmer’ Watson.

‘Come in, John, come in.’

The Superintendent had risen from behind his desk long enough to point Rebus in the vague direction of a chair. Rebus noticed that the desk itself was meticulously arranged, files neatly piled in two trays, nothing in front of Watson but a thick, newish folder and two sharp pencils. There was a photograph of two young children to one side of the folder.