In a House of Lies_The Brand New Rebus Thriller by Ian Rankin

Author:Ian Rankin [Rankin, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Orion
Published: 2018-10-04T07:00:00+00:00

Tuesday

28

At 11 a.m. on Tuesday, Emily Crowther phoned Clarke from Poretoun House. She was there with the scene-of-crime team, watching as they went about their business.

‘You won’t believe it,’ she told Clarke. ‘I’ll send you a couple of pics, hang on …’

The line went dead and Clarke waited. She was in the MIT office, seated at her desk, on which sat a putter, nine iron, two tees and two golf balls. They’d been waiting for her that morning, a gift from Graham Sutherland. Across the room, the list Derek Shankley had helped compile was being gone through name by name, phone calls made, interviews arranged. Within a few seconds her phone pinged, alerting her to the photos. There were three of them. The SOCOs in their white overalls were taking the place apart, floorboards removed, plaster scraped from the walls for analysis. Brand had insisted on being in attendance. In one photograph he had his own camera out, leaning down as Haj Atwal studied a section of floorboard. Clarke called Crowther.

‘It’s almost like he’s enjoying it,’ she commented. ‘But have they found anything?’

‘Not as far as I know. With a civilian in the room, Haj is being tight-lipped. What time do we leave for Glasgow?’

‘Let’s wait till after the rush hour. Six thirty should do it.’

‘Might not be finished here by then. There are about twenty rooms covering three floors. The house is shagged but gorgeous. Why do you think he’s letting us rip it up?’

‘Because it’s not really a house. It’s two fingers raised in Jackie Ness’s direction.’

‘So the photos …?’

‘Doubtless winging their way to Ness as we speak.’

‘Speaking of whom, any progress?’

‘The car is being searched again, just in case we missed something.’ Clarke saw that Graham Sutherland was getting to his feet. He was approaching the TV, seeking the remote so he could turn up the volume. ‘Emily, I’m going to have to go …’ She ended the call. Sutherland was blocking her view of the screen. The volume was audible by the time she reached his side. The reporter was standing on the edge of Poretoun Woods.

‘And after the questioning of film producer Jackie Ness and this morning’s renewed search of his old home just the other side of these woods behind me, now comes the revelation that the victim, private investigator Stuart Bloom, was handcuffed at the ankles inside his recovered Volkswagen Polo. This was reported only moments ago by an internet-based news agency and has yet to be verified by ourselves, though police have made no denial.’

Sutherland made eye contact with Clarke. ‘Because we’ve not been asked,’ he growled.

‘Press office should have warned us,’ Clarke said. ‘They must surely have known.’

Sutherland held out a hand towards her. ‘Pass me that nine iron, would you? I want to put it through this bloody screen.’

Mobile phones had started ringing: her own and Sutherland’s, plus the landlines not currently being used by Reid and Gamble. Tess Leighton appeared in the doorway, her own mobile pressed to her ear.

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