The Impossible Dead by Ian Rankin

two years in a row.’ Fraser sounded so proud, Fox wondered if anything since had given the man the same satisfaction.
    ‘Where did Mr Carter play?’
    ‘Right up front – a real poacher. Twenty-nine goals one season. That was a school record. If the minister doesn’t mention it at the funeral, I’ll be on my feet reminding everyone.’
    Fox smiled at this. ‘What did DI Scholes want?’
    ‘Ach, he was just asking about the gun and stuff. How was Alan positioned when I found him? Had I moved anything?’
    ‘And had you?’
    ‘I picked up the phone and dialled 999.’
    ‘But Mr Carter wasn’t dead, was he?’
    ‘As good as.’
    ‘You tried rousing him?’
    ‘He was breathing. Not conscious, though. But a gun ? Alan never owned a gun. And the door unlocked?’ He shook his head vigorously. ‘Kept it locked, even if he knew I was expected. If he heard me, he’d be at the door waiting, but otherwise I had to knock and Jimmy Nicholl would start barking.’
    ‘The door wasn’t locked?’
    ‘No barking when I knocked. Thought they must be out on a walk, even though the dog could only manage a few yards at a time without its back legs giving way. So I was expecting the door to be locked.’ He seemed to remember something. ‘In fact, it wasn’t even closed properly. That’s right … when I knocked, it opened a wee bit.’
    ‘I suppose,’ Fox said, playing devil’s advocate, ‘if he’d planned to do what he did, he might leave the door open so he could be found.’
    Fraser considered this notion, but then dismissed it with a snort. ‘You know I’m looking after Jimmy Nicholl? It’s the least I could do. Alan doted on that hound – and you’re telling me he wouldn’t have taken Jimmy to a vet’s before doing away with himself?’ He screwed up his face.
    ‘Can I ask you something else, Mr Fraser?’
    ‘I’m Teddy, son. Everybody calls me Teddy.’
    ‘I was just wondering what he was working on – all those papers on his table.’
    ‘Ancient history.’
    ‘Nineteen eighty-five’s not that ancient.’
    ‘To some people it is. I’ll prove it to you right here.’ Fraser paused, readying himself to gauge Fox’s reaction. He clasped his hands together, then mentioned a name.
    ‘You’ve got me,’ Fox conceded after a moment. ‘Who’s Francis Vernal?’
    ‘You’d do better finding out for yourself.’
    ‘Why was Mr Carter so interested in him?’
    ‘I’m not sure he was – not at first.’
    ‘I don’t follow.’
    ‘Alan was a copper back then – that’s why he got the job.’
    ‘Someone was paying him to look back at 1985? Was this some case he’d worked on?’
    Fraser dug a bony finger into Fox’s chest, stabbing out a beat to his next words. ‘Better – finding – out – for – yourself.’
    Having said which, he gave a little bow, turned, and started walking away at a brisker pace than Fox had foreseen. It actually hurt where the little man had poked him. He rubbed the spot with the heel of his hand. Back inside, the desk sergeant was lying in wait.
    ‘Come here, you,’ he said from the other side of the desk. Fox walked up to him. ‘You’ve not been pestering Teddy, I hope?’
    ‘He gave as good as he got. I take it you know him?’
    ‘Donkey’s years.’
    ‘And you knew Alan Carter, too?’
    ‘Served with him.’ The desk sergeant puffed out his chest. ‘One of the old school …’
    ‘I got the same feeling, the one time we met. I’m sorry.’
    The muscles in the sergeant’s face twitched.
    ‘I don’t even know your name,’ Fox apologised further.
    ‘Robinson. Alec Robinson.’
    Fox held out his hand, and after the briefest of hesitations Robinson took it.
    ‘Pleased to meet you,’ Fox said, causing the man to smile.
    ‘Sorry if I seemed to give you such a hard time,’ the sergeant responded. ‘You know what it’s like …’
    ‘I’ve had worse, trust me.’ Fox paused. ‘But can I ask you this – did you see much of Alan Carter in his later