Rather Be the Devil by Ian Rankin

Author:Ian Rankin
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction / Mystery & Detective / Police Procedural
Publisher: Little, Brown and Company
Published: 2017-01-31T05:00:00+00:00

Forensics had finished at Craw Shand’s. They had been satisfied with photos of the shoe print, so the door was still in place, a padlock added so the house could be secured before the team left. Although he had already been interviewed, the next-door neighbour came out to share his thoughts with Clarke.

‘Never any trouble… didn’t hear a peep in the night…’

The neighbour across the back from Shand had said the same. No shouts or yelps, nobody wrestling Craw Shand out from his kitchen. Nothing. Maybe the uniform had been right–the caved-in door had been waiting for Shand, and he’d taken fright and fled. Clarke had asked Laura Smith if she could place a story on the Scotsman’s website.

‘Am I allowed to flag up the Darryl Christie connection?’

‘Wiser not to.’

A patrol had last checked the rear of the property at 11 p.m., meaning the door had been forced sometime between then and six in the morning. Only one of the neighbours had seen Craw leave the house that day–a routine morning trip to the local shop. His TV had been heard through the wall in the afternoon–horse-racing commentary. As Clarke took a final tour of the rooms, she found little in the way of clues. A bag of groceries sat on the kitchen worktop–tinned soup, ravioli, peanuts. An open packet of biscuits on a chair in the living room. There was a large empty backpack on top of the wardrobe in Shand’s bedroom. His drawers were half filled with clothes. Didn’t mean he hadn’t taken a smaller bag, maybe enough shirts and pants for a couple of days. The mail on the kitchen table didn’t add much–a couple of overdue bills for his phone and his TV package, and one advising him that his gas supply was being disconnected. She had contacted his mobile provider. If he made any calls, she wanted to know about it pronto. The neighbours had been given her business card–they were to get in touch should Shand return home at any point, or anyone else pay a visit.

And that was that. Apart from one thing.

Christie picked up after three rings.

‘I’m assuming you’ve heard from Harry?’ Clarke asked.

‘I only wish I’d been there when you saw that lovely photo. Now you know how it feels to be framed.’

‘Is that what you think’s happening to you?’

‘Harry told you the God’s own truth.’

‘We’re putting Craw’s description out.’

‘You know everyone will think I had something to do with it.’

‘I don’t suppose that’ll do your reputation much harm.’

‘If anything, it’ll add to it, but that doesn’t mean I snatched him. And by the way, I took your advice.’

‘Oh?’

‘Moved my mum and the boys into a hotel for a few days.’

‘Has something else happened?’

‘Cars rumbling past the house at odd hours… stopping outside, engines revving.’

‘Recognise any of them?’

‘No.’

‘Maybe you got the licence numbers?’

‘Sorry.’

‘How about cameras? Have you got round to swapping your fakes for real ones?’

‘I’m on it.’

‘So with your mum and brothers gone, you’ve got the place to yourself?’

‘You offering

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