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“That’s his driver,” Rebus said, nodding toward the Merc.
Siobhan chipped in: “Pe
The secretary slipped his glasses back on, and directed his reply at Rebus. “Oh, yes, Mr. Pe
“Mind if we check?”
The secretary’s face twitched and he told them to wait, before disappearing back into the building. Rebus looked at Siobhan, awaiting some comment.
“Officious twerp,” she obliged.
“You won’t be wanting an application form?”
“Have you seen any women since we got here?”
Rebus looked around before admitting she had a point. He turned at the sound of an electric motor. It was a golf cart, emerging from behind Rossdhu House and driven by the secretary.
“Hop on,” he told them.
“Can’t we walk?” Rebus asked.
The secretary shook his head and repeated the instruction. There were two rear-facing cushioned seats at the back of the cart.
“Lucky you’re small-boned,” Rebus told Siobhan. The secretary was ordering them to hold on tight. The machine clunked into action at a rate just above walking speed.
“Whee,” Siobhan said, managing to look underwhelmed.
“Reckon the chief constable’s a golf fan?” Rebus asked.
“Probably.”
“The luck we’ve had this week, we’ll be passing him any moment…”
But they didn’t. The course itself was home to only a few last stragglers. The stands were vacant, and the sun was setting.
“Amazing,” Siobhan was forced to admit as she stared across Loch Lomond to the mountains beyond.
“Takes me back to my youth,” Rebus told her.
“Did you come here on vacation?”
He shook his head. “But the neighbors did, and they always sent a postcard.” Swiveling round as best he could, he saw they were approaching a village of tents with its own cordon and security. White tents, piped music, and the sounds of loud conversation. The secretary slowed the cart to a stop and nodded toward one of the larger tents. It had clear plastic windows and liveried serving staff. Cham-pagne was being poured, oysters offered from silver salvers.
“Thanks for the lift,” Rebus said.
“Shall I wait…?”
Rebus shook his head. “We’ll find our own way, sir. Thanks again.”
“Lothian and Borders,” Rebus stated to the guards, opening his ID.
“Your chief constable’s in the champagne tent,” one of the guards replied helpfully. Rebus gave Siobhan a look. That kind of week…He picked up a glass of fizz and worked his way through the throng. Thought he recognized some of the faces from Prestonfield-G8 delegates; people Richard Pe
“Quite the United Nations,” Siobhan commented. Eyes were appraising her: not too many women on display. But the ones who were-well, on display summed it up: cascading hair, short, tight dresses, and fixed smiles. They would describe themselves as models rather than escorts, hired by the day to add glamour and sun-bed tan to proceedings.
“Should have smartened yourself up,” Rebus scolded Siobhan. “Bit of makeup never goes amiss.”
“Listen to Karl Lagerfeld,” she retorted. Rebus tapped her shoulder. “Our host.” He gave a nod in the direction of Richard Pe
David Steelforth, emerging from the champagne tent, deep in conversation with Chief Constable James Corbyn.
“Bugger,” Rebus said. Then, after a deep breath: “In for a pound…”
He could feel Siobhan hesitate, and turned toward her. “Maybe you should go walk around for a few minutes.”
But she’d come to her decision, and actually led the way toward the two men.
“Sorry to interrupt,” she was saying as Rebus caught up.
“What the hell are you two doing here?” Corbyn spluttered.
“Never one to miss free bubbly,” Rebus explained, raising his glass. “Expect that’s your reasoning, too, sir.”
Corbyn’s face had reddened mightily. “I was invited.”
“Us, too, sir,” Siobhan said, “in a ma
“How’s that?” Steelforth asked, looking amused.
“Murder inquiry, sir,” Rebus said. “Tends to act as a VIP pass.”
“VVIP,” Siobhan corrected him.
“You’re saying Ben Webster was murdered?” Steelforth asked, eyes on Rebus.
“Not quite,” Rebus answered. “But we’ve an inkling why he died. And it seems to co
“I’m sure it can wait,” Corbyn snapped.
Rebus turned back to Steelforth, who offered another smile, this time for Corbyn’s benefit.
“I think I’d better listen to what the inspector and his colleague have to say.”
“Very well,” the chief constable relented. “Fire away.”
Rebus paused, exchanging a glance with Siobhan. Steelforth was quick to catch on. He made a show of handing his untouched glass to Corbyn.
“I’ll be right back, Chief Constable. I’m sure your officers will explain everything to you in due course…”
“They’d better,” Corbyn stressed, eyes boring into Siobhan. Steelforth patted his arm reassuringly and walked away, Rebus and Siobhan close behind. When all three reached the low white picket fence, they stopped. Steelforth faced away from the crowd, toward the course, where groundsmen were hard at work replacing divots and raking sand traps. He slid his hands into his pockets.
“What is it you think you know?” he asked nonchalantly.
“I think you know,” Rebus answered. “When I mentioned the link between Webster and the Clootie Well, you didn’t blink. Makes me think you already suspected something. Stacey Webster’s your officer, after all. You probably like to keep tabs on her…maybe started wondering why she was making sorties north to places like Newcastle and Carlisle. Also makes me wonder what you saw on the security film that night at the castle.”
“Spit it out,” Steelforth hissed.
Siobhan took over. “We think Stacey Webster is our serial killer. She wanted Trevor Guest, but was prepared to kill two more men to hide the fact.”
“And when she went to tell her brother the news,” Rebus continued, “well, he didn’t take it well. Maybe he jumped; maybe he was appalled and threatened to go public…she decided he had to be silenced.” He gave a shrug.
“Fanciful stuff,” Steelforth commented, still not looking at either of them. “Being good detectives, you’ll have put together a watertight case?”
“Should be easy enough, now we know what we’re looking for,” Rebus told him. “Of course, it’ll be damaging for SO12…”
Steelforth gave a twitch of the mouth, turned 180 degrees to watch the feasting. “Until about an hour ago,” he drawled, “I’d have told the pair of you to go fuck yourselves. Know why?”
“Pe
Steelforth nodded slowly. “It so happens, you’re right.”
“But you’ve changed your mind?” Siobhan added.
“You just need to look at him. It’s all crumbling to dust, isn’t it?”