Saints of the Shadow Bible (Rebus) Read Online Free PDF Page A

not very senior – don’t tell me you’ve got yourself a toy boy?’
    Clarke jabbed a finger into his chest. ‘Everybody has a breaking point, John.’ But she was smiling, and Rebus was smiling too. He turned towards Esson and Ogilvie.
    ‘Either of you two up for a bit of surveillance tonight?’
    ‘I’m warning you,’ Clarke said, jabbing him harder this time.
    Great King Street was a wide thoroughfare in the New Town, stretching from Howe Street to Drummond Place. Three and four storeys high, the terrace had probably all been houses when built in the early nineteenth century, but now many of these had been subdivided into flats. Rebus had never been a huge fan of the New Town. For one thing, you had to climb a steep incline to get back to the city centre. There were also no front gardens, and parking was difficult. The door they were looking for had four buzzers beside it, with TRAYNOR/BELL at the top.
    ‘Presumably meaning top floor,’ Rebus muttered.
    ‘Maybe no one’s home,’ Clarke offered by way of consolation. But when she pressed the button, a voice crackled through the intercom.
    ‘Miss Bell?’ Clarke guessed.
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘It’s the police. We need to talk to you about Jessica.’
    ‘I knew it! Door’s unlocked – we’re on the top floor.’
    ‘I knew it,’ Rebus echoed, turning the handle.
    By the time they had climbed the first flight, he was breathing heavily, and Clarke was asking him to remind her how he’d passed the physical. He coughed a reply and watched as a head appeared over the banister.
    ‘Up here,’ Alice or Alison Bell said. As she ushered the two detectives inside, Clarke decided to check.
    ‘It’s Alice,’ the student confirmed.
    Rebus had expected high ceilings and airy rooms, but they seemed to be in the eaves. The hall was narrow, not helped by the presence of two bicycles. Alice Bell hadn’t bothered to ask for ID. She was leading them past the galley-style kitchen into the living room. Music was playing from an MP3 player hooked up to a speaker. It was classical – unaccompanied cello. An actual cello sat on a stand in one corner.
    ‘Yours or Jessica’s?’ Rebus asked, but Bell was concentrating on Siobhan Clarke.
    ‘I’m almost afraid to ask,’ she blurted out.
    ‘She’s going to be fine,’ Clarke assured her. The young woman’s knees seemed to buckle in relief and she sat down heavily on an armchair. Clarke and Rebus decided to settle themselves on the sofa. It was white and modern and just about up to the task.
    ‘What happened?’ Bell was asking.
    ‘A car smash. You’ve been worried about her?’
    ‘Texted her a few times – she missed a class this morning, and that’s not like her.’
    ‘Do you study art history too, Alice?’
    The young woman nodded. She was dressed in a T-shirt with an unbuttoned cardigan over it, and black denims. No piercings that Rebus could see, and no tattoos. Her face was round and her cheeks slightly puffy, reminding him of a cherub in a painting, an effect heightened by curly chestnut hair.
    ‘How long have you known Jessica?’ Rebus asked.
    ‘Almost a year. She put adverts up around the department – room to rent – and I jumped at the chance.’ She paused. ‘She’s really going to be okay?’
    ‘Whiplash, sprains and bruises,’ Clarke explained. ‘Her father seems to think she’s a careful driver.’
    ‘That’s true.’
    ‘Not last night, though.’
    ‘What happened?’
    ‘The crash was the other side of the airport, on a country road. Any idea why she’d be out that way?’
    Bell shook her head. ‘Is her father here?’
    ‘He’s with her at the Infirmary,’ Rebus said.
    ‘I should go see her.’
    ‘Any other friends who should be told?’ Clarke asked.
    ‘Her boyfriend, for example,’ Rebus added.
    ‘Forbes?’ Bell’s voice lifted a little. ‘Has no one . . . ?’ She broke off, hands clasped between her knees, staring at the varnished wooden floor.
    ‘We don’t have his