Strip Jack

Stupid, stupid, stupid. Not the same car returning to the lay-by, but another car. Holmes had asked the question: what had Liz Jack been waiting for? She'd been waiting for her husband. She must have telephoned him from the box in the lay-by. She'd just had the argument with Steele. Too upset to drive herself home maybe. So he'd told her to wait there and he'd pick her up. He had a free afternoon anyway. He'd pick her up in the blue Escort. But when he'd arrived there had been another argument. About what? It could have been anything. What would it take to smash the ice that was Gregor Jack? The original newspaper story? The police finding evidence of his wife's lifestyle? Shame and embarrassment? The thought of further public scrutiny, of losing his precious constituency?

There was enough there to be going on with.

'Okay,' said Lauderdale, 'so we've got the car. Let's see if Jack's at home.' He turned to Rebus. 'You phone, John.'

Rebus phoned. Helen Greig answered.

'Hello, Miss Greig. It's Inspector Rebus.'

'He's not here,' she blurted out. 'I haven't seen him all day, or yesterday come to that.'

'But he's not in London?'

'We don't know where he is. He was with you yesterday morning, wasn't he?'

'He came into the station, yes.'

'Ian's going up the wall.'

'What about the Saab?'

'It's not here either. Hold on…' She placed her hand over the mouthpiece, but not very effectively. 'It's that Inspector Rebus,' he heard her say. Then a frantic hiss: 'Don't tell him anything!' And Helen again: 'Too late, Ian.' Followed by a sort of snarl. She removed her hand.

'Miss Greig,' said Rebus, 'how has Gregor seemed?'

'Same as you might expect of a man whose wife's been murdered.'

'And how's that?'

'Depressed. He's been sitting around in the living room, just staring into space, not saying much. Like he was thinking. Funny, the only time I got a conversation out of him was when he asked me about last year's holiday.'

'The one you went on with your mum?'

'Yes.'

'Remind me, where did you go again?'

'Down the coast,' she said. 'Eyemouth, round there.'

Yes, of course. Jack had uttered the name of the first town that had come to mind. Then he'd pumped Helen for details so he could prop up his rickety story…

He put down the receiver.

'Well?' asked Watson.

'His car's gone, and Gregor Jack with it. All that stuff he told us about Eyemouth… eye wash more like… he got it all from his secretary. She went there on holiday last year.'

The room was stuffy, the late afternoon outside preparing itself for thunder. Watson spoke first.

'What a mess.'

'Yes,' said Lauderdale.

Holmes nodded. He was a relieved man; more than that, inwardly he was rejoicing: the hire car had turned out to be fact. He'd proved his worth.

'What now?'

'I'm just thinking,' said Rebus, 'about that lay-by. Liz Jack has an argument with Steele. She tells him she's going back to her husband. Steele buggers off. What's the next he hears of her?'

That she's dead,' answered Holmes.

Rebus nodded. Throwing all those books around the shop in his grief and his anger… 'Not only dead, but murdered. And the last he saw of her, she was waiting for Gregor.'

'So,' said Watson, 'he must know Jack did it? Is that what you're suggesting?'

'You think,' Lauderdale said, 'Steele's run off to protect Gregor Jack?'

'I don't think anything of the sort,' said Rettus. 'But if Gregor Jack is the murderer, then Ronald Steele has known for some time that he is. Why hasn't he done anything? Think about it: how could he come to the police He was in way too deep himself. It would mean explaining everything, and explaining it would make him if anything a bigger suspect than Gregor Jack himself!'

'So what would he do?'

Rebus shrugged. 'He might try persuading Jack to come forward.'

'But that would mean admitting to Jack that -'

'Exactly, that he was Elizabeth Jack's lover. what would you do in Jack's position?'

Holmes dared to supply the answer. 'I'd kill him. I'd kill Ronald Steele.'

Rebus sat all that evening in Patience's living room, an arm around her as they both watched a video. A romantic comedy; only there wasn't much romance and precious little comedy. You knew from reel one that the secretary would go off with the bucktoothed student and not with her bloodsucking boss. But you kept on watching anyway. Not that he was taking much of it in. He was thinking about Gregor Jack about the person he'd seemed to be and the person he really was. You peeled away layer after layer, stripped the bone and beyond… and never found the truth. Strip Jack Naked: a card game, also known as Beggar my neighbour. Patience was a card game, too. He stroked her hair, her forehead.

'That's nice.'

Patience was a game easily won.