The Falls Read Online Free PDF Page A

off-licence run at some point: the bag was lying on the floor, the half-bottle of Bell’s sitting not far from it, top missing but only a couple of decent measures down. Not a drinker then, Rebus surmised. It was a non-drinker’s idea of how you handled a crisis – you drank whisky, but had to buy some first, and no point lashing out on a whole bottle. A couple of drinks would do you.
    The living room was small, the flat itself reached from a turreted stairwell, winding ever upwards, the stone steps worn concave. Tiny windows. They’d planned this building in a century where heat was a luxury. The smaller the windows, the less heat you lost.
    The living room was separated from the kitchen only by a step and what looked like partition walls. An open doorway, double-width. Signs that Costello liked to cook: pots and pans hanging from butcher’s hooks. The living area was all books and CDs. Rebus had trawled the latter: John Martyn, Nick Drake, Joni Mitchell. Laid-back but cerebral. The books looked like stuff from Costello’s English Literature course.
    Costello was seated on a red futon; Rebus had chosen one of two straight-backed wooden chairs. They looked like the stuff he saw on Causewayside, placed outside shops for which the description ‘antique’ encompassed school desks from the sixties and green filing cabinets salvaged from office refits.
    Costello ran his hand through his hair, didn’t say anything.
    ‘You asked if I thought you did it,’ Rebus said, answering his own question.
    ‘Did what?’
    ‘Killed Flip. I think that’s how you phrased it: “You think I killed her, don’t you?”’
    Costello nodded. ‘It’s so obvious, isn’t it? We’d fallen out. I accept that you have to regard me as a suspect.’
    ‘David, right now you’re the only suspect.’
    ‘You really think something’s happened to her?’
    ‘What do you think?’
    Costello shook his head. ‘I’ve done nothing but rack my brains since this all started.’
    They sat in silence for a few moments.
    ‘What are you doing here?’ Costello asked suddenly.
    ‘As I said, it’s on my way home. You like the Old Town?’
    ‘Yes.’
    ‘Bit different from the New. You didn’t want to move nearer Flip?’
    ‘What are you trying to say?’
    Rebus shrugged. ‘Maybe it says something about the pair of you, the parts of town you prefer.’
    Costello laughed drily. ‘You Scots can be so reductive.’
    ‘How’s that?’
    ‘Old Town versus New, Catholic/Protestant, east coast/west … Things can be a mite more complicated than that.’
    ‘Attraction of opposites, that’s all I was getting at.’ There was another silence between them. Rebus scanned the room.
    ‘Didn’t make a mess then?’
    ‘Who?’
    ‘The search party.’
    ‘Could have been worse.’
    Rebus took a sip of coffee, pretended to savour it. ‘You wouldn’t have left the body here though, would you? I mean, only perverts do that sort of thing.’ Costello looked at him. ‘Sorry, I’m being … I mean, it’s just theoretical. I’m not trying to say anything. But the forensics, they weren’t looking for a body. They deal in things you and me can’t even see. Flecks of blood, fibres, a single hair.’ Rebus shook his head slowly. ‘Juries eat that stuff up. The old idea of policing, it’s going out the window.’ He put down the gloss-black mug, reached into a pocket for his cigarette packet. ‘Mind if I … ?’
    Costello hesitated. ‘Actually, I’ll take one from you if that’s all right.’
    ‘Be my guest.’ Rebus took one out of the packet, lit it, then tossed both packet and lighter to the younger man. ‘Roll yourself a joint if you like,’ he added. ‘I mean, if that’s your thing.’
    ‘It’s not.’
    ‘Student life must be a bit different these days.’
    Costello exhaled, studying the cigarette as if it was something alien to him. ‘I’d assume it is,’ he said.
    Rebus smiled. Just two grown-ups having a smoke and a chat. The wee