Longines actually) from the bedside table and peered through the badly scratched face to find that it was seven fifteen. ‘Did I wake you up? Sorry. It’s Lisa Frazer.’
Rebus came to life. Or rather his voice did. He still sat slumped and jangling on the edge of the bed, but heard himself say a bright, ‘Hello, Dr Frazer. What can I do for you?’
‘I’ve been studying the notes you gave me on the Wolfman case. Working through most of the night, to be honest. I just couldn’t sleep, I was so excited by them. I’ve made some preliminary observations.’
Rebus touched the bed, feeling its residual warmth. How long since he’d slept with a woman? How long since he’d woken up the following day regretting nothing?
‘I see,’ he said.
Her laughter was like a clear jet of water. ‘Oh, Inspector, I’m sorry, I’ve wakened you. I’ll call back later.’
‘No, no. I’m fine, honestly. A bit startled, but fine. Can we meet and talk about what you’ve found?’
‘Of course.’
‘But I’m a bit tied up today.’ He was trying to sound vulnerable, and thought on the whole that it was probably working. So he played his big card. ‘What about dinner?’
‘That would be nice. Where?’
He rubbed at a shoulder-blade. ‘I don’t know. This is your town, not mine. I’m a tourist, remember.’
She laughed. ‘I’m not exactly a local myself, but I take your point. Well in that case, dinner’s on me.’ She sounded set on this. ‘And I think I know just the place. I’ll come to your hotel. Seven thirty?’
‘I look forward to it.’
What a very pleasant way to start the day, thought Rebus, lying down again and plumping up the pillow. He’d just closed his eyes when the telephone rang again.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m in reception and you’re a lazy git. Come down here so I can put my breakfast on your tab.’
Cli-chick. Brrrr. Rebus slapped the receiver back into its cradle and got out of bed with a growl.
‘What kept you?’
‘I didn’t think they’d appreciate a stark naked guest in the dining-room. You’re early.’
Flight shrugged. ‘Things to do.’ Rebus noticed that Flight didn’t look well. The dark rings around his eyes and his pale colouring were not due simply to lack of sleep. His flesh had a saggy quality, as though magnets on the floor were drawing it down. But then he wasn’t feeling so great himself. He thought he’d probably picked up a bug on the tube. His throat was a little sore and his head throbbed. Could it be true that cities made you sick? In one of the essays Lisa Frazer had given him someone had made that very claim, stating that most serial killers were products of their environment. Rebus couldn’t really comment on that, but he did know that there was more mucus in his nostrils than usual. Had he brought enough handkerchiefs with him?
‘Things to do,’ Flight repeated.
They sat at a table for two. The dining-room was quiet, and the Spanish waitress took their order briskly, the day not yet having had enough time to wear her down.
‘What do you want to do today?’ Flight seemed to be asking this only in order to get the conversation rolling, but Rebus had specific plans for the day and told him so.
‘First off I’d quite like to see Maria Watkiss’s man, Tommy.’ Flight smiled at this and looked down at the table. ‘Just to satisfy my own curiosity,’ Rebus continued. ‘And I’d like to talk to the dental pathologist, Dr Morrison.’
‘Well, I know where to find both of them,’ said Flight. ‘Go on.’
‘That’s about it. I’m seeing Dr Frazer this evening –’ Flight looked up at this news, his eyes widening in appreciation ‘– to go over her findings on the killer’s profile.’
‘Uh huh.’ Flight sounded unconvinced.
‘I’ve been reading those books she lent me. I think there may be something in it, George.’ Rebus used the Christian name carefully, but Flight seemed to have no objections.
The coffee had arrived. Flight
Rebus came to life. Or rather his voice did. He still sat slumped and jangling on the edge of the bed, but heard himself say a bright, ‘Hello, Dr Frazer. What can I do for you?’
‘I’ve been studying the notes you gave me on the Wolfman case. Working through most of the night, to be honest. I just couldn’t sleep, I was so excited by them. I’ve made some preliminary observations.’
Rebus touched the bed, feeling its residual warmth. How long since he’d slept with a woman? How long since he’d woken up the following day regretting nothing?
‘I see,’ he said.
Her laughter was like a clear jet of water. ‘Oh, Inspector, I’m sorry, I’ve wakened you. I’ll call back later.’
‘No, no. I’m fine, honestly. A bit startled, but fine. Can we meet and talk about what you’ve found?’
‘Of course.’
‘But I’m a bit tied up today.’ He was trying to sound vulnerable, and thought on the whole that it was probably working. So he played his big card. ‘What about dinner?’
‘That would be nice. Where?’
He rubbed at a shoulder-blade. ‘I don’t know. This is your town, not mine. I’m a tourist, remember.’
She laughed. ‘I’m not exactly a local myself, but I take your point. Well in that case, dinner’s on me.’ She sounded set on this. ‘And I think I know just the place. I’ll come to your hotel. Seven thirty?’
‘I look forward to it.’
What a very pleasant way to start the day, thought Rebus, lying down again and plumping up the pillow. He’d just closed his eyes when the telephone rang again.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m in reception and you’re a lazy git. Come down here so I can put my breakfast on your tab.’
Cli-chick. Brrrr. Rebus slapped the receiver back into its cradle and got out of bed with a growl.
‘What kept you?’
‘I didn’t think they’d appreciate a stark naked guest in the dining-room. You’re early.’
Flight shrugged. ‘Things to do.’ Rebus noticed that Flight didn’t look well. The dark rings around his eyes and his pale colouring were not due simply to lack of sleep. His flesh had a saggy quality, as though magnets on the floor were drawing it down. But then he wasn’t feeling so great himself. He thought he’d probably picked up a bug on the tube. His throat was a little sore and his head throbbed. Could it be true that cities made you sick? In one of the essays Lisa Frazer had given him someone had made that very claim, stating that most serial killers were products of their environment. Rebus couldn’t really comment on that, but he did know that there was more mucus in his nostrils than usual. Had he brought enough handkerchiefs with him?
‘Things to do,’ Flight repeated.
They sat at a table for two. The dining-room was quiet, and the Spanish waitress took their order briskly, the day not yet having had enough time to wear her down.
‘What do you want to do today?’ Flight seemed to be asking this only in order to get the conversation rolling, but Rebus had specific plans for the day and told him so.
‘First off I’d quite like to see Maria Watkiss’s man, Tommy.’ Flight smiled at this and looked down at the table. ‘Just to satisfy my own curiosity,’ Rebus continued. ‘And I’d like to talk to the dental pathologist, Dr Morrison.’
‘Well, I know where to find both of them,’ said Flight. ‘Go on.’
‘That’s about it. I’m seeing Dr Frazer this evening –’ Flight looked up at this news, his eyes widening in appreciation ‘– to go over her findings on the killer’s profile.’
‘Uh huh.’ Flight sounded unconvinced.
‘I’ve been reading those books she lent me. I think there may be something in it, George.’ Rebus used the Christian name carefully, but Flight seemed to have no objections.
The coffee had arrived. Flight
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