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“This is a bollock hair away from serious harassment,” he hissed. Rebus nodded as if in agreement, then stretched out an arm in the direction of the waiting couple.
“This is Councilman Tench,” he informed them. “He’s the helpful sort.” They were already on their feet and shuffling toward the glowering Tench.
“I’ll be waiting outside when you’re done,” Rebus told him.
He’d smoked another cigarette by the time Tench emerged. Through the window, Rebus could see that the couple had taken their seats again, looking satisfied for the moment, as though some further meeting had been arranged.
“You’re a bastard, Rebus,” Tench growled. “Give me one of those cigs.”
“I didn’t know you indulged.”
Tench lifted a cigarette from the pack. “Only when I’m stressed…but this smoking ban’s on the horizon so I figure I should claim my share while I can.” With the cigarette lit, he inhaled deeply, letting the smoke pour down his nostrils. “Only real pleasure some people have, you know. Remember John Reid talking about single mums in the projects?”
Rebus remembered it well. But Reid, the defense secretary, had given up the smokes so wasn’t much of an apologist for the habit.
“Sorry I did that,” Rebus offered, nodding in the direction of the window.
“They’ve got a point,” Tench conceded. “Someone’s coming to talk to them…wasn’t too happy about me calling him, mind. I think his tee shot had just clipped the ninth green. Chip and run for a birdie.”
He smiled, and Rebus smiled with him. They smoked in silence for a moment. The atmosphere could almost have been called companionable. But then Tench had to spoil it.
“Why do you side with Cafferty? He’s a badder bugger than I could ever be.”
“I’m not disputing it.”
“Well then?”
“I don’t side with him,” Rebus stated.
“Not what it looks like.”
“Then you’re refusing to see the whole picture.”
“I’m good at what I do, Rebus. If you don’t believe me, talk to the people I represent.”
“I’m sure you’re terrific at what you do, Mr. Tench. And sitting on the regeneration committee must tip a load of cash into your district, making your constituents cheerful, healthy, and well behaved…”
“Slums have been replaced by new housing, local industry offered incentives to stay put-”
“Nursing homes given upgrades?” Rebus added.
“Absolutely.”
“And staffed by your own recommendations. Trevor Guest being a case in point.”
“Who?”
“While back you placed him in a day center. He was from Newcastle originally.”
Tench was nodding slowly. “He’d had a few problems with drink and drugs. Happens to some of us, doesn’t it, Inspector?” Tench gave Rebus a meaningful look. “I was looking to integrate him into the community.”
“Didn’t work. He headed back south to be murdered.”
“Murdered?”
“One of the three whose effects we found in Auchterarder. Another was Cyril Colliar. Fu
“You’re at it again-trying to pin something on me!” Tench made jabbing motions with the cigarette.
“Just want to ask about the victim. How you met him, why you felt the need to help.”
“It’s what I do-I keep telling you that!”
“Cafferty thinks you’re muscling in.”
Tench rolled his eyes. “We’ve been through all this. All I want is for him to be consigned to the scrap heap.”
“And if we won’t do it, you will?”
“I’ll do my damnedest-I’ve already said as much.” He rubbed his palms across his face, as though washing. “Has the pe
“You’re in charge of the gangs down there-”
“I’m not!”
“I’ve seen the way it works. Your little runt of a hood runs amok, gives you the chance to state your case for more cash from the authorities. You’ve turned havoc into a nice little earner.”
Tench stared at him, then gave a loud exhalation. He looked to the left and right. “Between us?” But Rebus wasn’t about to comply. “All right, maybe there’s an element of truth in what you say. Money for regeneration: that’s the bottom line. I’m happy to show you the books-you’ll see that every last cent and pe
“What’s Carberry listed under on the balance sheet?”
“You don’t control someone like Keith Carberry. A bit of cha
Rebus’s cigarette was down to its filter. He flicked it away. “And Trevor Guest?”
“…was a damaged man who came to me for help. He said he wanted to give something back.”
“For what?”
Tench shook his head slowly, stubbing his cigarette underfoot, and began to look thoughtful. “I got the feeling something had happened…put the fear of death into him.”
“What sort of thing?”
A shrug. “The drugs maybe…dark night of the soul. He’d had a bit of trouble with the police, but seemed to me there was more to it than that.”
“He went to jail eventually. Aggravated burglary, assault, attempted sexual assault. Your Good Samaritan act didn’t exactly win him over.”
“I hope it’s never been an act,” Tench said quietly, eyes focused on the street beneath him.
“You’re putting on an act right now,” Rebus told him. “I think you do it because you’re good at it. Same sort of act that got Ellen Wylie’s sister out of her panties-bit of wine and sympathy at your end, and no mention of the missus back home in front of the TV.”
Tench made a pained face, but all Rebus did was give a cold chuckle.
“I’m curious,” he went on. “You looked at the BeastWatch site-it’s how you snared Ellen and her sister. So you had to’ve seen your old pal Trevor’s picture there. Seems odd to me that you never said…”
“And put myself further in the frame you’ve been trying to nail together around me?” Tench shook his head slowly.
“I’ll need something in your own words about Trevor Guest-everything you’ve told me, and anything else you can add. You can drop it off at Gayfield Square…this afternoon will do. Hope that’s not going to eat into your golf time.”
Tench looked at him. “How do you know I play?”
“Way you spoke earlier-like you knew what you were talking about.” Rebus leaned toward him. “You’re easy enough to read, Councilman. Compared to some I’ve known, you’re Dick and fucking Jane.”
The line was adequate, and Rebus left Tench with it. Back at the car, a warden was hovering. Rebus pointed out the POLICE notice on his dashboard.
“At our discretion,” the warden reminded him.
Rebus blew the man a kiss and got behind the steering wheel. As he pulled away, he checked in his rearview and saw that someone was watching from outside the cathedral. Same outfit he’d been wearing that day at court: Keith Carberry. Rebus slowed the car but kept moving. Carberry’s attention shifted, and Rebus stopped the Saab, kept watching in the rearview. Expected Carberry to cross the street, go say a few words to his employer, but he stayed where he was, hands tucked into the front of his hooded jacket, some sort of narrow black carry case held beneath one arm. Content to stand in the midst of what tourists there were.
Paying them no heed.
Staring across the road.
Toward the city chambers.
The city chambers…and Gareth Tench.