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

Silvers, shaking the proffered hand.
    “Christ,” Hynds was saying in an undertone, “I felt like I was on her petri dish for a minute back there . . .” Then he noticed Siobhan’s face. “What is it?”
    “What you were saying before . . . about Grant and me.” She nodded her head in Linford’s direction.
    “Oh,” Davie Hynds said. Then: “Fancy another coffee?”
    Out at the machine she gave him an edited version of events, telling him that she’d gone out with Linford on a couple of occasions, but leaving out the fact that Linford had started spying on her. She added that there was bad blood between Linford and Rebus, too, with the former blaming the latter for a severe beating he’d been given.
    “You mean DI Rebus beat him up?”
    Siobhan shook her head. “But Linford blames him all the same.”
    Hynds gave a low whistle. He seemed about to say something, but now Linford himself was walking down the corridor, sorting out some loose coins in his hand.
    “Change for fifty pee?” he asked. Hynds immediately reached into his own pocket, allowing Linford and Siobhan to share a look.
    “How are you, Siobhan?”
    “Fine, Derek. How are you?”
    “Better.” He nodded slowly. “Thanks for asking.” Hynds was slotting coins home, refusing Linford’s offer of the fifty-pence piece.
    “Was it tea or coffee you were after?”
    “I think I’m capable of pushing the button myself,” Linford told him. Hynds realized he was trying too hard, took half a step back.
    “Besides,” Linford added, “knowing this machine, it hardly makes any difference.” He managed a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
     
    “Why him?” Siobhan asked.
    She was in DCS Templer’s office. Gill Templer had just got off the phone and was scribbling a note in the margin of a typewritten sheet.
    “Why not?”
    It struck Siobhan that Templer hadn’t been chief super back then. She didn’t know the full story.
    “There’s . . .” — she found herself echoing Hynds’s word — “history.” Templer glanced up. “Between DI Linford and DI Rebus,” Siobhan went on.
    “But DI Rebus is no longer part of this team.” Templer lifted the sheet of paper as if to read it.
    “I know that, ma’am.”
    Templer peered at her. “Then what’s the problem?”
    Siobhan took the whole office in with a sweep of her eyes. Window and filing cabinets, potted plant, a couple of family photographs. She wanted it. She wanted someday to be sitting where Gill Templer was.
    Which meant not giving up her secrets.
    Which meant seeming strong, not rocking the boat.
    “Nothing, ma’am.” She turned towards the door, reached out for the handle.
    “Siobhan.” The voice was more human. “I respect your loyalty to DI Rebus, but that doesn’t mean it’s necessarily a good thing.”
    Siobhan nodded, keeping her face to the door. When her boss’s phone rang again, she made what she felt was a dignified exit. Back in the murder room, she checked her screen saver. No one had tampered with it. Then she had a thought, and walked the short distance back across the corridor, knocking on the door, putting her head around without waiting. Templer put a hand across the receiver’s mouthpiece.
    “What is it?” she asked, her voice once again iron.
    “Cafferty,” Siobhan said simply. “I want to be the one who interviews him.”
     
    Rebus was slowly circling the long oval table. Night had fallen, but the slat blinds remained open. The table was strewn with stuff from the box-files. What it lacked as yet was some order. Rebus didn’t think it was his job to impose order, yet that was what he was doing. He knew that come the morning, the rest of the team might want to rearrange everything, but at least he’d have tried.
    Interview transcripts, reports from the door-to-door inquiries, medical and pathology, forensics and Scene of Crime . . . There was a lot of background on the victim, as was to be expected: how could they hope to