Resurrection Men (2002) by Ian Rankin Read Free Book Online

like me.”
    “It’ll take a while, that’s all.”
    “But am I right? Is there a history?”
    She shook her head slowly, keeping her eyes on his. “You reckon yourself a bit of an expert, don’t you, Davie?”
    “How do you mean?”
    “As an amateur psychologist.”
    “I wouldn’t say —”
    She was resting against the back of Rebus’s chair. “Let’s give you a test: what did you make of Malcolm Neilson?”
    Hynds folded his arms. “I thought we’d covered this.”
    By which he meant their conversation as Siobhan drove them from Neilson’s home back to St. Leonard’s. They hadn’t learned very much from the meeting, Neilson admitting it was no secret he wasn’t on speaking terms with the art dealer. He’d further admitted being annoyed that he’d suddenly been excluded from the New Colorists.
    “That bugger Hastie couldn’t paint a living room wall, and as for Celine Blacker . . .”
    “I quite like Joe Drummond though,” Hynds had interrupted. Siobhan had given him a warning look, but Neilson wasn’t listening anyway.
    “Celine’s not even her real name,” he was saying.
    In the car, Siobhan had asked if Hynds knew anything about painting.
    “I did read up on the Colorists a bit,” he’d admitted. “Case like this, thought it might come in handy . . .”
    Now, he rested his knuckles against the edge of Siobhan’s desk, leaning in towards her. “He’s not got much of an alibi,” he stated.
    “But did he act like a man who might need one?”
    Hynds considered this. “He called his lawyer . . .”
    “Yes, but that was a moment’s panic. Once we actually got talking, didn’t you think he relaxed?”
    “He was pretty confident.”
    Siobhan, gazing into the middle distance, found herself locking eyes with George Silvers. She pointed to her computer screen, then wagged the finger at him. He ignored her, went back to his pretense of studying the wall.
    Detective Chief Superintendent Gill Templer was suddenly standing in the doorway.
    “Noise Abatement Society been leafleting again?” she bellowed. “A quiet office is one that isn’t working hard enough.” She narrowed in on Silvers. “Think you’re going to solve the case by osmosis, George?” There were smiles, but no laughter. The officers were trying to look busy but focused.
    Templer was heading relentlessly for Siobhan’s desk. “How did you get on with the artist?” she asked, her voice dropping several decibels.
    “Says he was in a few pubs that evening, ma’am. Got a take-away and went home to listen to Wagner.”
    “Tristan und Isolde,” Hynds confided. Then, when Templer turned her laser glare on him, he blurted out that Neilson had wanted a solicitor present at the interview.
    “Did he now?” The beams switched to Siobhan.
    “It’ll go in my report, ma’am.”
    “But you didn’t think it worth mentioning?”
    The side of Hynds’s neck was reddening as he realized he’d dropped Siobhan in it.
    “We don’t think it really means anything . . .” His voice fell away as he found himself the center of attention again.
    “That’s your judgment, is it? Well, I can see I’m completely surplus to requirements. DC Hynds,” Templer announced to the room, “thinks he’s competent to make all the decisions around here.”
    Hynds tried for a smile, failed.
    “But just in case he’s wrong . . .” Templer was moving towards the doorway again, gesturing into the corridor. “Seeing how we’re down a DI, the Big House have let us borrow one of theirs.”
    Siobhan sucked air between her teeth as a body and face she recognized walked into the room.
    “DI Derek Linford,” Templer stated by way of introduction. “Some of you may already know him.” Her eyes turned towards Hi-Ho Silvers. “George, you’ve been staring at that wall long enough. Maybe you can bring Derek up to speed on the case, eh?”
    With that, Templer left the room. Linford looked around, then walked stiffly towards George