“We’ll do our damnedest, that’s the only promise I can make.”

“Just don’t hold it against her.”

“Hold what against her?”

“That Frank Hammell’s dating our mother.”

“That’s not the way it works, Darryl.”

“Prove it, then. Get busy.”

The line went dead. Rebus got another cigarette going, while he replayed the conversation. There was steel to the kid, but brains, too. And plenty of concern for his sister. Rebus pressed a few buttons until the screen presented him with the number of the last call. He took out his own phone and entered the details into his contact list under the name Darryl. When the cigarette was done, he headed back to the Gimlet and returned the phone to Doorman Donny.

“That took a while.”

Rebus shook his head. “Finished talking to your boss ages ago. Phoned one of those premium chatlines after. Enjoy your next bill…”

Part Two

I see the dead men shuffling in their bones
Young girls laughing on their mobile phones…

12

What was it about Cafferty?

Even in a busy mid-morning café, customers kept their distance. Rebus had found them a corner table. The table next to it, once vacated, stayed empty. People might head towards it, then glance up at the hulking figure in the black leather jacket and change their minds.

“Turn-up for the books,” Cafferty had said. “You asking me for a drink.” He had then demolished a flat white and requested another with the complaint that the cups were like something out of a doll’s house.

He was pouring sugar into this second coffee when Rebus asked him about Frank Hammell.

“Hammell? Shorter fuse than I like to see on a man. Never a great one for realizing that actions have consequences.”

“I forget, did he ever work for you?”

“Back in the day.” Cafferty’s phone, which had been sitting on the table, began to vibrate. He checked who the caller was but didn’t answer. “Is this about the missing girl?”

Rebus nodded.

“Saw Hammell on TV,” Cafferty continued. “That’s some reward he’s put up.”

“Why do you think he did it?”

Cafferty considered this. He knew what Rebus meant: a man like Hammell could get information without needing to pay for it. “He loves her,” he answered eventually. “The mother, I mean. This is his way of showing it. You know he put the frighteners on her husband?”

Rebus shook his head.

“That’s why the poor sod scarpered to New Zealand.”

“Australia, I heard.”

“Same difference—other side of the planet. That’s how far he needed to be from Frank Hammell.”

“What about the missing girl’s brother?”

Cafferty thought for a moment. “Enlighten me.”

“His name’s Darryl Christie—kept his dad’s surname. He spoke at the press conference. Manages at least one of Hammell’s bars.”

“I didn’t know that.” Rebus could see Cafferty storing the information away.

“Seems like a bright kid.”

“Then he should get out while he can.”

“How many places does Hammell own these days?”

Cafferty’s mouth twitched. “Hard to say, even for me. Half a dozen pubs and clubs. Fingers in a lot more pies than that, of course. He’s had meetings in Glasgow and Aberdeen.”