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As she drove past him, she couldn’t help wondering about his choice of words.
Bound to happen sooner or later…
Seated opposite him in the office, she got the chance to ask.
“All I meant was,” he replied, “you were bound to want to talk to me.”
“How so?”
“Because I’m guessing you want to know why he did it.”
“And?”
“And you’ll be asking his friends if they can help.”
“You were a friend of Lee Herdman’s?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”
“In a roundabout way, yes. We found out that both yourself and Mr. Herdman paid visits to Carbrae.”
Brimson nodded slowly. “That’s clever,” he said. The kettle, having come to a boil, clicked off, and he leapt from his chair to pour water into two mugs of instant coffee, handing one to Siobhan. The office was tiny, just enough room for the desk and two chairs. The door led back to an anteroom with a few more chairs and a couple of filing cabinets. There were posters on the walls-various forms of aircraft.
“You’re a flying instructor, Mr. Brimson?” Siobhan said, accepting the mug.
“Call me Doug, please.” Brimson sat back down. A figure appeared, framed by the window behind him. A rap of knuckles on the pane. Brimson turned his head, gave a wave, which the other man returned.
“That’s Charlie,” he explained. “Going for a spin. Works as a banker, says he’d swap jobs with me tomorrow if it meant he could spend more time in the sky.”
“You rent out your planes, then?”
It took Brimson a moment to follow her question. “No, no,” he said at last. “Charlie has his own plane; he just keeps it here.”
“The airfield’s yours, though?”
Brimson nodded. “Inasmuch as I rent the actual ground from the airport. But, yes, all this is mine.” He opened his arms wide, offering another smile.
“And how long have you known Lee Herdman?”
The arms dropped, and the smile with them. “A good few years.”
“Can you be more specific?”
“Pretty much since he moved here.”
“That would be six years, then?”
“If you say so.” He paused. “I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name…”
“Detective Sergeant Clarke. Were the two of you close?”
“Close?” Brimson shrugged. “Lee didn’t really let people get ‘close.’ I mean, he was friendly, liked meeting up, all that sort of thing…”
“But?”
Brimson frowned in concentration. “I was never really sure what was going on in here.” He tapped his head.
“What did you think when you heard about the shooting?”
He shrugged. “It was impossible to believe.”
“Did you know Herdman had a gun?”
“No.”
“He was interested in them, though.”
“That’s true… but he never showed me one.”
“Never talked about it?”
“Never.”
“So what did the two of you talk about?”
“Planes, boats, the service… I served seven years in the RAF.”
“As a pilot?”
Brimson shook his head. “Didn’t do much piloting back then. I was the electrics wizard, keeping the crates up in the air.” He leaned across the desk. “Have you ever flown?”
“Just holiday trips.”
He wrinkled his face. “I mean like Charlie there.” He hooked his thumb towards where a small plane was taxiing past the window, engines droning.
“I have enough trouble driving a car.”
“A plane’s easier, believe me.”
“So all those dials and switches are just for show?”
He laughed. “We could go right now, what do you say?”
“Mr. Brimson…”
“Doug.”
“Mr. Brimson, I don’t really have time for a flying lesson right now.”
“Tomorrow, then?”
“I’ll think about it.” She couldn’t help smiling, thinking that a thousand feet above Edinburgh might be safe from Gill Templer.
“You’ll love it, that’s a promise.”
“We’ll see.”
“But you’ll be off duty, right? Which means you’ll be allowed to call me Doug?” He waited till she’d nodded. “And what will I be allowed to call you, Detective Sergeant Clarke?”
“Siobhan.”
“An Irish name?”
“Gaelic.”
“Your accent’s not…”
“My accent’s not what I’m here to talk about.”
He raised his hands in mock surrender.
“Why didn’t you come forward?” she asked. He seemed not to understand. “After the shooting, some of Mr. Herdman’s friends called to talk to us.”
“Did they? What for?”
“All kinds of reasons.”
He considered his answer. “I didn’t see the point, Siobhan.”
“Let’s save first names for later, eh?” Brimson tilted his head in apology. There was a sudden burst of static, then transistorized voices.
“The tower,” he explained, reaching down behind his desk to tweak the volume on the radio set. “That’s Charlie requesting a slot.” He glanced at his watch. “Should be okay this time of day.”
Siobhan listened to a voice warning the pilot to watch out for a helicopter over the city center.
“Roger, control.”
Brimson turned the volume lower still.
“I’d like to bring a colleague out here to talk to you,” Siobhan said. “Would that be all right?”
Brimson shrugged. “You can see how hectic life is around here. Only really busy on weekends.”
“I wish I could say the same.”
“Don’t tell me you’re not busy on weekends? Good-looking young woman like you?”
“I meant…”
He laughed again. “I’m only teasing. No wedding ring, though.” He nodded towards her left hand. “Do you think I’d make the grade in CID?”
“I notice you don’t wear a ring either.”
“Eligible bachelor, that’s me. Friends say it’s because I’ve got my head in the clouds.” He pointed upwards. “Not too many singles bars up there.”
Siobhan smiled, then realized that she was enjoying the conversation-always a bad sign. There were questions she knew she should be asking, but they weren’t coming into focus.
“Maybe tomorrow, then,” she said, getting up from the chair.
“Your first flying lesson?”
She shook her head. “Talking to my colleague.”
“But you’ll come, too?”
“If I can.”
He seemed satisfied, came around the desk, hand outstretched. “Good to meet you, Siobhan.”
“Good to meet you, Mr…” She faltered as he raised a warning finger. “Doug,” she relented.
“I’ll see you out.”
“I can manage.” Opening the door, wanting a little more space between them than he was allowing.
“Really? You’re good at picking locks, then, are you?”
She remembered the padlocked gate. “Right enough,” she said, following Doug Brimson outside just as Charlie’s machine came to the end of its run-up and lifted its wheels clear of the ground.
“Has Gill tracked you down yet?” Siobhan asked, speaking into her phone as she drove back into the city.
“Affirmative,” Rebus replied. “Not that I was hiding or anything.”
“So what’s the outcome?”
“Suspended from duty. Except that Bobby doesn’t see it that way. He still wants me helping out.”
“Which means you still need me, right?”
“I think I could just about drive myself if I had to.”
“But you don’t have to…”
He laughed. “I’m just teasing, Siobhan. The gig’s yours if you want it.”
“Good, because I’ve tracked down Brimson.”
“I’m impressed. Who is he?”
“Runs a flying school out at Turnhouse.” She paused. “I went to see him. I know I should have checked first, but your phone was engaged.”
“She’s been out to see Brimson,” she heard Rebus tell Hogan. Hogan muttered something back. “Bobby’s of the opinion,” Rebus told her, “that you should have sought permission before doing that.”
“Are those his exact words?”
“Actually, he rolled his eyes and uttered a few oaths. I’m choosing to extrapolate.”
“Thanks for saving my maidenly blushes.”
“So what did you get out of him?”
“He was friends with Herdman. They share similar backgrounds: army and RAF.”
“And how does he know Robert Niles?”
Siobhan’s mouth twitched. “I forgot to ask him that. I did say we’d go back.”