Fleshmarket Close

Fleshmarket Close

Ian Rankin

Language: English

Pages: 287

ISBN: 0752865633

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


An illegal immigrant is found murdered in an Edinburgh housing scheme: a racist attack, or something else entirely? Rebus is drawn into the case, but has other problems: his old police station has closed for business, and his masters would rather he retire than stick around. But Rebus is that most stubborn of creatures. As Rebus investigates, he must visit an asylum seekers' detention centre, deal with the sleazy Edinburgh underworld, and maybe even fall in love...Siobhan meanwhile has problems of her own. A teenager has disappeared from home and Siobhan is drawn into helping the family, which will mean travelling closer than is healthy towards the web of a convicted rapist. Then there's the small matter of the two skeletons - a woman and an infant - found buried beneath a concrete cellar floor in Fleshmarket Close. The scene begins to look like an elaborate stunt - but whose, and for what purpose? And how can it tie to the murder on the unforgiving housing-scheme known as Knoxland?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Davidson offered the DC his chair, and accepted a scrap of paper in return. Outside in the corridor, once the door was firmly closed, he unfolded the paper, stared at it, then handed it to Storey, whose mouth broke open in a gleaming grin. Finally, the paper was passed to Rebus. It contained a description of the red BMW, along with its licence plate. Below it, written in capitals, were the owner’s details. The owner was Stuart Bullen. Storey snatched the note back from Rebus and planted a kiss

he asked. ‘I wouldn’t lower myself, Shug.’ ‘Why not?’ Reynolds grinned. ‘You’re the towel-heads’ new hero.’ Davidson’s cheeks reddened. ‘One more crack like that, Charlie, and I’ll have you on report—is that clear?’ Reynolds stiffened his back. ‘Slip of the tongue, sir.’ ‘You’ve collected more slips than a bookie’s dustbin. Don’t let it happen again.’ ‘Sir.’ Davidson let the silence lie for a moment, then decided he’d made his point. ‘Is there anything useful you can be doing?’ Reynolds

are.’ She nodded and tried rising to her feet, had to be helped up by her friend. She placed a hand on either child’s head. ‘I’ll stay here with them, if you like,’ Rebus said. She looked at him, then whispered something to the children, who gripped her all the harder. ‘Your mum’ll just be through that door,’ Ness told them, pointing. ‘We’ll only be a minute … ’ Mrs Yurgii crouched in front of son and daughter, whispered more words to them. Her eyes were glazed with tears. Then she lifted

blood”?’ ‘I honestly don’t remember.’ ‘We might ask for a specimen of your writing,’ Les Young interrupted. She shrugged. ‘I’ve got nothing to hide.’ ‘When did you last see Cruikshank?’ ‘About a week ago in the Bane. Playing pool by himself, because no one would give him a game.’ ‘I’m surprised he drank there, if he was such a hate figure.’ ‘He liked it.’ ‘The pub?’ Harrison shook her head. ‘All the attention. Didn’t seem to bother him what kind it was, as long as he was at the centre …

been his favourite place. It seemed all teeming concrete and high-rise. He got lost there, and always had trouble finding landmarks to navigate by. There were areas of the city which felt as if they could swallow up Edinburgh wholesale. The people were different, too; he couldn’t say what it was exactly -accent or mind-set. But the place made him uncomfortable. Even with an A to Z, he managed to take an apparent wrong turning almost as soon as he left the motorway. He’d come off too soon, and

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