The Impossible Dead by Ian Rankin Read Free Book Online Page B

deigned to meet Kaye’s eyes at last. ‘You’re a cheeky little bastard, aren’t you?’
    ‘Depends on the situation, sir.’ Kaye sensed that he was standing in front of a man who believed in the troops under his command and would defend them to the bitter end. Forrester hadn’t been helpful because there was nothing for her to be helpful with , but Laird was another matter entirely. He would give them nothing because that was all they deserved. It was there in his tone, his manner, his way of standing, feet planted widely apart. Kaye had encountered the type plenty of times. They could be dismantled, but it took time and effort. Weeks of time, unceasing effort.
    Fox’s message had been ‘Ask Laird why Pitkethly was brought in.’ It was a reasonable question, and Kaye knew why it was best not to ask Pitkethly herself. Quite simply, she probably wouldn’t know. She hadn’t known the station at all until she was shipped there. Laird had served under the previous regime. He was an old hand. If there was a story worth telling, Laird might be the one to tell it.
    But a few seconds spent in the man’s company told Kaye this wasn’t going to happen.
    ‘My boss,’ he said, ‘had something he wanted me to ask you.’
    ‘Spit it out, then.’
    But Kaye just shook his head. ‘I don’t think I will.’
    Then he turned and walked away. Halfway down the corridor, he grabbed Naysmith by the back of his collar and took him with him.

7

    The Mondeo’s parking space had been taken by an idling Astra. In fact, the only bay left was the one marked Superintendent, so that was where Fox ended up. As he made for the station entrance, he gave the Astra’s driver a look. The face was familiar.
    ‘About bloody time,’ Tony Kaye said, emerging from the station with Naysmith in tow. ‘Got your text but I didn’t reckon I was going to get any joy from Laird.’
    ‘DC Forrester was nice and helpful, though,’ Naysmith added, Kaye shooting him a look.
    ‘Helpful?’ he mimicked. ‘She gave us the square root of heehaw.’ Then, turning to Fox: ‘Tell me you’ve been having it worse than us. Got lost a few times maybe. Found the uncle but he’s doolally … Foxy? You listening?’
    Fox’s attention was still focused on the Astra.
    ‘That’s Paul Carter,’ he said.
    ‘What?’
    Fox started walking towards the car. It reversed out of its bay and began to exit the car park. Fox jogged after it for a few paces, then stopped. Kaye caught him up, the two men watching as the car shot away, modified exhaust roaring.
    ‘You sure?’
    Fox gave him a cold stare.
    ‘Okay,’ Kaye conceded. ‘You’re sure.’
    Fox took out his phone and called the Procurator Fiscal’s office. He was passed between extensions and offices until he found someone with the answers he needed. Paul Carter had been released on bail at 8.15 a.m., pending the sheriff’s decision on sentencing.
    ‘Cells are jam-packed,’ Fox was told. ‘Sheriff Cardonald reckoned he was one of the safer bets. Restricted movements – he’s not allowed within range of the three women.’
    ‘Who posted the bail?’
    ‘It wasn’t a huge amount.’
    ‘And this was the sheriff’s idea? Colin Cardonald?’
    ‘I suppose so.’
    ‘The judge who doesn’t like cops?’
    ‘Steady on …’
    But Fox had ended the call. ‘He’s out,’ he confirmed, for Kaye and Naysmith’s benefit.
    ‘Want to bring him in for a chat?’ Naysmith asked.
    Fox shook his head.
    ‘Hell was he doing here?’ Kaye added.
    ‘Catching up with his pals,’ Fox guessed, turning to look at the station’s first-floor windows. Ray Scholes stood in one of them, a mug in his hand. He toasted Fox with it before turning away.
    ‘Doesn’t change anything,’ Tony Kaye stated.
    ‘No,’ Fox agreed.
    ‘And you still haven’t told us how you got on with the uncle.’
    ‘Good guy.’ Fox paused. ‘I liked him.’
    ‘Not half as much as Joe here likes DC Forrester.’ Kaye looked around the car