In a House of Lies by Ian Rankin

Author:Ian Rankin
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2018-12-30T16:00:00+00:00

27

Brian Steele walked into the Devil’s Dram with his girlfriend Rebecca on his arm. She had probably overdone it for this part of town – clinging floor-length emerald-green dress, slit up the side almost to her navel, and with a plunging neckline to boot. Her blonde hair fell in thick waves around her shoulders, and she wore three-inch stilettos. Not too much make-up – she really didn’t need it – and just the right amount of high-end jewellery. As they had stepped from the cab, jaws had dropped, eyes lingering. The doormen knew Steele and held the door open for Rebecca.

‘Everything okay, Shug?’ he asked one of them, slipping a twenty into his palm.

‘Fairly quiet, Brian.’

And then they were in. They’d been a couple of times before, including once under Darryl Christie’s ownership. Steele liked all the theme stuff – devils and demons and imps scaling the walls and peering down from the dark red ceiling. There was usually a good DJ if you wanted to dance, and quiet booths if you’d rather sit and drink and eat. Steele had booked a table upstairs, overlooking the dance floor. Rebecca swayed to the rhythm as they climbed the glass staircase.

Once seated, Steele perused the whisky menu. It ran to eight pages, but he saw that more than a few offerings now had been scored through in black pen. Looking around, the place didn’t seem quite as upmarket as it had once been: a corner of fraying carpet here, a broken light bulb there. There were fingerprints on the glossy table and the food menus were tacky to the touch.

After a long wait, a waiter dressed in red appeared, a bellboy’s hat strapped to his head.

‘No scallops tonight, I’m sorry to say,’ he began. ‘And no lobster or sea bass.’

Another waiter appeared behind him with a tray balanced on one outstretched hand.

‘Compliments of the management,’ he explained, placing flutes of champagne in front of them. Rebecca cooed, her eyes sparkling.

‘And would management happen to be on the premises this evening?’ Steele asked, receiving a nod in reply.

He sat back and studied the menu. After they’d ordered, Rebecca got busy on her phone, pouting for a selfie she could share with her circle. She began sending out texts with a dexterity that always amazed Steele, bearing in mind the length of her elaborate fingernails.

Rebecca owned a couple of nail bars in the city. Steele had helped with the seed money, but business was good. She complained sometimes that she had to pay higher wages than her competition, most of whom seemed to use labour from Vietnam or the Philippines. But she had plans for a third branch and a redesign of her flagship. Brains as well as beauty – about the only thing Steele didn’t like about her was the incessant need to be on her bloody phone.

After their starters, a new waiter arrived at the top of the stairs and gestured towards Steele. He dabbed at his mouth with the napkin and told Rebecca he wouldn’t be long.

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