The Black Book by Ian Rankin

nodded. ‘She lives next door to my mum and dad, just across the road from Pittodrie.’
    ‘Aberdeen?’ Rebus nodded to himself. ‘It’s coming back to me. Yes, an uncle and aunt in Aberdeen.’
    ‘Your dad and Jimmy – that’s your uncle – fell out years ago. You’re probably too young to remember.’
    ‘Thanks for the compliment.’
    ‘It’s just what Ena told me.’
    ‘And now Uncle Jimmy’s dead?’
    ‘Three weeks past.’
    ‘And Aunt Ena wants to see me?’ Steele nodded. ‘What about?’
    ‘I don’t know. She was just talking about how she’d like to see you again.’
    ‘Just me? No mention of my brother?’
    Steele shook his head. Rebus had checked to see if Michael was in the box room. He wasn’t. But the other bedrooms seemed to be occupied.
    ‘Right enough,’ said Rebus, ‘if they argued when I was wee, maybe it was before Michael was born.’
    ‘They might no’ even know about him,’ Steele conceded. Well, that was families for you. ‘Anyway, Ena kept harping on about you, so I told her I’d come south and have a look. I got laid off from the fishing boats six months ago, and I’ve been going up the wall ever since. Besides, I told you I’ve always fancied being a private eye. I love all those films.’
    ‘Films don’t get you a knee in the balls.’
    ‘True enough.’
    ‘So how did you find me?’
    Steele’s face brightened. ‘I went to the address Ena gave me, where you and your dad used to live. All the neighbours knew was that you were a policeman in Edinburgh. So I got the directory out and phoned every station I could find, asking for John Rebus.’ He shrugged and returned to his tea.
    ‘But how did you get my home address?’
    ‘Someone in CID gave it to me.’
    ‘Don’t tell me, Inspector Flower?’
    ‘A name like that, aye.’
    Seated on the sofa, Andy Steele looked to be in his mid-twenties. He had the sort of large frame which could be kept in shape only through hard work, such as that found on a North Sea fishing boat. But already, deprived of work for six months, that frame was growing heavy with disuse. Rebus felt sorry for Andy Steele and his dreams of becoming a private eye. The way he stared into space as he drank the tea, he looked lost, his immediate life without form or plan.
    ‘So are you going to go and see her?’
    ‘Maybe at the weekend,’ said Rebus.
    ‘She’d like that.’
    ‘I can give you a lift back.’
    But the young man was shaking his head. ‘No, I’d like to stay in Edinburgh for a bit.’
    ‘Suit yourself,’ said Rebus. ‘Just be careful.’
    ‘Careful? I could tell you stories about Aberdeen that would make your hair stand on end.’
    ‘And could they thicken it a bit at the temples while they’re at it?’
    It took Andy Steele a minute to get the joke.
    The next day, Rebus paid a visit to Andrew McPhail. But McPhail wasn’t home, and his landlady hadn’t seen him since the previous evening.
    ‘Usually he comes down at seven sharp for a wee bitty breakfast. So I went upstairs and there was no sign of him. Is he in any trouble, Inspector?’
    ‘No, nothing like that, Mrs MacKenzie. This is a lovely Madiera by the way.’
    ‘Ach, it’s a few days since I made it, it’s probably a bit dry by now.’
    Rebus shook his head and gulped at the tea, hoping to wash the crumbs down his throat. But they merely formed into a huge solid lump which he had to force down by degrees, and without a public show of gagging.
    There was a bird-cage standing in one corner of the room, boasting mirrors and cuttle-fish and millet spray. But no sign of any bird. Maybe it had escaped.
    He left his card with Mrs MacKenzie, telling her to pass it on to Mr McPhail when she saw him. He didn’t doubt that she would. It had been unfair of him to introduce himself as a policeman to the landlady. She would probably become suspicious, and might even give McPhail a week’s notice on the strength of those suspicions. That would be a terrible