'Oh what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive' Not in the book but words penned by Scottish historian Sir Walter Scott in 1808. It is the mark of a great writer, and another Scot, Ian Rankin, two centuries later, weaving the pandemic into the story and its characters.
A Heart Full of Headstones opens with retired DI John Rebus in court, seated in the dock. As Edinburgh grapples with COVID, the jury is in a hotel, viewing proceedings via video link; everyone in court is masked, save the Judge and an ailing Rebus, whose mask is in a pocket with his inhaler. While the clerk of court reads out the charges, Rebus’ mind drifts to the events that led him there.
The lockdown had seen a spike in domestic violence incidents and one perpetrator was a police officer serving at the Tynecastle Police Station, his defence pleading PTSD caused by the toxic culture there. Tynecastle had long been on the watch list of “Complaints” and with the officer threatening to spill the beans, Gartcosh is taking a keen interest. Rebus never served there, but was aware of that culture and connected to it through his ‘association’ with crime figure, “Big Ger” Cafferty – confined to a wheelchair after an unsuccessful assassination attempt. An anonymous phone call to the police by a young woman alerts the police to a murder in an apartment block, silencing the whistle-blower. DI Siobhan Clarke, seconded to the Major Incident Team out of Leith, tracks her down.
‘I’m a DJ.’ If her chair had been of the swivel variety, she would have been rotating from side to side. She seemed to Clarke all barely contained energy and life force. A tattoo crept out from just below one cuff of her jacket. Clarke would take bets it didn’t feel lonely. ‘Ever go clubbing?’ the young woman asked.
Also on the team, DC Christine Essen, a couple of detectives from previous MIT investigations, a couple of fresh faces, plus DCI Malcolm Fox.
Fox worked at Gartcosh, Police Scotland’s nerve centre. (Clarke) wasn’t sure why his career had taken off while hers was stuck in the bus lane, though her one-time colleague John Rebus had taken to calling Fox ‘the Brown-Nosed Cowboy’, meaning he was a yes man, a willing and eager toady, and he looked good parked behind a desk in one of those suits.
Like all pandemics, there are those that succumb, those that struggle through, and those that seek to profit, in this case by “Furlough Fraud”. No shortage of slippery characters here: a well-connected land developer, a lettings agency once owned by “Big Ger” and tenuous links from there to a man “Big Ger” reputedly had eliminated. His new henchman, Andrew, was at one time employed by underworld figure Darryl Christie, currently serving a 25 year sentence. Aside from the edgy humour, the author drops in descriptions of the city itself.
Staff joked that the building was sited in the dead heart of Edinburgh, and they weren’t far wrong. Cowgate was central and yet easy to ignore, being a canyon over which both the South Bridge and George IV Bridge passed, the mortuary itself an anonymous modern slab flanked by clubs and pubs. No one staggering late at night from any of these establishments could know that so many corpses lay in chilled stillness close by.
Despite all the signs, the ending blew me away.