Tooth & Nail

`No,' said Dr Lisa Frazer, shaking her head vigorously. `That's psychiatrists. Psychiatrists have couches, not psychologists. We're like chalk and cheese.'

She looked stunning, yet there was no alchemy involved in the process. She was dressed simply and wore no make-up. Her hair had been brushed straight back and tied with a band. Still, casually, elegantly, simply, she was stunning. She had been dead, on time at the hotel and had walked with him, her arm linked in his, along Shaftesbury Avenue, past the scene of his run-in with the patrol car. The early evening was warm, and Rebus felt good walking with her. Men were glancing towards them, okay, be honest, towards her. There might even have been a wolf whistle or two. It made Rebus feel good all the same. He was wearing his tweed jacket with an open-necked shirt and had the sudden fear that she would lead him to some fancy restaurant where men were not admitted without ties. That would be just his luck. The city teemed with nightlife, teenagers mostly, drinking from cans and calling to each other across the busy road. The pubs were doing good business and buses chugged grime into the air. Grime which would be falling unseen on Lisa Frazer. Rebus felt valiant. He felt like stopping all the traffic, confiscating, all the keys so that she could walk unsullied through the streets.

Since when did he think like that? Where had this tiny unpolished stone of romance come from? What desperate corner of his soul? Self-conscious, John. You're becoming too self-conscious. And if a psychologist didn't spot it, nobody would. Be natural, Be calm. Be yourself.

She brought him into Chinatown, a few streets off Shaftesbury Avenue, where the telephone boxes were shaped like oriental temples, supermarkets sold fifty year-old eggs, gateways were decorated like relics from Hong Kong and the street names were given in Chinese as well as English. There were a few tourists about, but mainly the pedestrianised walkway was filled with scuttling Chinese, their voices shrill. It was a different world, like something you would expect to ? HYPERLINK “http://find.in/”??find in? New York but never dream of finding in England. Yet he could look back along the street and still see the theatres on Shaftesbury Avenue, the red buses chug-chugging, the punks yelling obscenities at the tops of immature voices.

`Here we are,' she said, stopping outside a restaurant on the corner, of the street. She pulled open the door, gesturing for him to precede her into the air-conditioned chill. A waiter was upon them at once, showing them to a dimly-lit booth. A waitress smiled with her eyes as she handed them each a menu. The waiter returned with a wine list, which he placed beside Rebus.?

'Would you like a drink while you are deciding?' Rebus looked to Lisa Frazer for guidance. `Gin and tonic,' she said without hesitation.

`And the same for me,' said Rebus, then regretted it. He wasn't all that keen on gin's chemical smell.

`I'm very excited about this case, Inspector Rebus.'

`Please, call me, John. We're not in the station now.'

She nodded. `I'd like to thank you for giving me the chance to study the files. I think I'm already forming an interesting picture.' She reached into her clutch-purse and produced a collection of a dozen index cards held together with an outsize paper-clip. The cards were covered in lines of tiny neat handwriting. She seemed ready to start reading them. `Shouldn't we at least order first?' Rebus asked. She appeared not to understand, then grinned.

`Sorry,' she said. `It's just that I'm . . .'

'Very excited. Yes, you said.'

`Don't policemen get excited when they find what they think is a clue?''

`Almost never,' said Rebus, appearing to study the menu, `we're born pessimists. We don't get excited until the guilty party has been sentenced and locked up.'

`That's curious.' She held her own menu still closed. The index cards had been relegated to the table-top. `I'd have thought to enjoy police work you would need a level of optimism, otherwise you'd never think you were going to solve the case.'

Still studying the menu, Rebus decided that he'd let her order for both of them. He glanced up at her. `I try not to think about solving or not solving,' he said. `I just get on with the job, step by step.'

The waiter had returned with their drinks.

`You are ready to order?'

`Not really,' said Rebus, `could we have a couple more minutes?'

Lisa Frazer was staring across the table at him. It wasn't a large table. Her right hand rested on the rim of her glass, barely an inch from his left hand. Rebus could sense the presence of her knees almost touching his own under the table. The other tables in the restaurant all seemed larger than this one, and the booths seemed better lit.

`Frazer's a Scottish name,' he said. It was as good a line as any.

`That's right,' she replied. `My great grandfather came from a place called Kirkcaldy.'