The Black Book: An Inspector Rebus Mystery by Rankin Ian

Author:Rankin, Ian [Rankin, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Simon & Schuster
Published: 2011-03-21T16:00:00+00:00

19

He was seated at his desk, glumly examining all the dead ends in the case, when he happened to catch word of an ‘altercation’ at a house in Broughton. He caught the address, but it took a few seconds for it to register with him. Minutes later, he was in his car heading into the east end of town. The traffic was its usual self, with agonisingly slow pockets at the major junctions. Rebus blamed the traffic lights. Why couldn’t they just do away with them and let the pedestrians take their chances? No, there’d only be more hold-ups, what with all the ambulances they’d need to ferry away the injured and the dead.

Still, why was he hurrying? He thought he knew what he was going to find. He was wrong. (It was turning out to be one of those weeks.) A police car and an ambulance sat outside Mrs MacKenzie’s two-storey house, and the neighbours were out in a show of conspicuous curiosity. Even the kids across the road were interested. It must be a break-time, and some of them pushed their heads between the vertical iron bars and stared openmouthed at the brightly marked vehicles.

Rebus thought about those railings. Their intention was to keep the kids in, keep them safe. But could they keep anybody out?

Rebus flashed his ID at the constable on door duty and entered Mrs MacKenzie’s house. She was wailing loudly, so that Rebus started to think of murder. A WPC comforted her, while trying to have a conversation with her own over-amplified shoulder radio. The WPC saw Rebus.

‘Make her some tea, will you?’ she pleaded.

‘Sorry, hen, I’m only CID. Needs someone a bit more senior to mash a pot of Brooke Bond.’ Rebus had his hands in his pockets, the casually informed observer, distanced from the mayhem into which he walked. He wandered over to the bird cage and peered in. On the sand floor, amidst feathers and husks and droppings, lay a mummified budgie.

‘Away the crow road,’ he muttered to himself, moving out of the living room. He saw the ambulancemen in the kitchen, and folowed them. There was a body on the floor, hands and face heavily bandaged. He couldn’t see any blood, though. He nearly skited on wet linoleum, and steadied himself by gripping the edge of the antiquated gas cooker. It was warm to the touch. A police constable stood by the open back door, looking out to right and left. Rebus squeezed past the carers and their patient and joined the PC.

‘Nice day, eh?’

‘What?’

‘I see you’re admiring the weather.’ Rebus showed his ID again.

‘No, not that. Just seeing the way he went.’

Rebus nodded. ‘How do you mean?’

‘The neighbours say he climbed three fences, then ran down a close and away.’ The PC pointed. ‘That close there, just past the line full of washing.’

‘Behind the clothes-pole?’

‘Aye, that must be the one. Three fences … one, two, three. It’s got to be that close over there.’

‘Well done, son, that really gets us a long way.

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