The Book of Souls (Inspector McLean #2)(28)

‘Kirsty! Where are you going?’

But all the answer he gets is her long black hair, billowing out behind her as she hurtles down the stairs.





20





‘Come in. I’ll just be a moment.’ Chief Superintendent McIntyre didn’t look up from her desk as she furiously annotated some important report. McLean had made it from the open door, upon whose frame he had knocked, to a point right in front of the vast, busy desk before she finished with a flourish of signature. ‘What can I do for you— Tony! What the hell are you doing here? And what is that suit you’re wearing?’

‘I’m fine, thank you, ma’am. How are you?’ McLean smiled. It wasn’t often he managed to catch the superintendent off-guard.

‘Sorry.’ McIntyre nodded her head at him. ‘It’s just, well, that’s a very striking pinstripe.’

McLean pulled at a gaudy sleeve. ‘I believe it was fashionable in the 1920s. It’s my grandfather’s. The only thing I could find that came even close to fitting. If you don’t count some of my gran’s old dresses, that is.’

‘A wise choice, I think. Have you been ... you know ... back?’

‘Not yet, no. I assume they put the fire out. Looked like they had it under control when I went off last night.’

‘Yes, Big Andy told me all about that. You really shouldn’t be here, you know. I’m surprised the doctors let you out of hospital. They reckoned you’d breathed in a lot of smoke.’

McLean tried to suppress the urge to cough, but couldn’t quite manage. ‘What else could I do? Sit around moping about the unfairness of life?’

‘Well, you could have gone shopping, I suppose.’ McIntyre smiled.

‘Don’t worry, I’ll be requesting some time off. But I needed to know what happened.’

‘Give us a chance. They only secured the building a couple of hours ago. Charles is champing at the bit to get in there, but the firemen won’t let him.’

‘Ah, so he got my message then. How’s he feeling about that?’

‘You can ask him yourself. He wants to interview you about the flat where the fire started.’

‘What’s to say? I’ve never met the owner, it’s just rented out to a continuous stream of students. This last lot were better than most. I guess I didn’t pay them all that much attention.’

‘You’re a detective, Tony. You’re trained to pay attention. How long ago did they move in?’

‘I don’t know. End of the summer? After the Festival.’

‘So they’ve been running some kind of drugs operation right under our noses for at least four months. Christ, the press are going to have a field day.’

McLean’s heart sank. Of course the press would get their grubby little hands on this story. And it wouldn’t take long for them to work out that at the same tenement block in which a drug factory had been set up there also lived a detective inspector.

‘It doesn’t look very good, does it, ma’am.’

‘No, it doesn’t. And DC Robertson’s accident doesn’t help either.’ McIntyre rubbed at her eyes. ‘Professional Standards want to talk to you,’ she said after a while.

‘I’d expected as much,’ McLean said, though his heart fell even so.

‘It’s informal at this stage, Tony. No one’s made an official complaint.’ McIntyre put on her serious face. The one she used when frightening the new constables. ‘I’ll do what I can to keep it that way. I’m on your side on this. But I can’t make any promises. For now, though, I want you to keep as low a profile as possible. Go and talk to Duguid, then I don’t want to see you back in the station until the hearing.’

‘But I’m in the middle of a murder investigation, I can’t—’

‘Until the hearing, Tony. Or I’ll have you suspended. DS Laird can take on your case-load whilst you’re away. It’ll do him some good to actually work for his wage. Go do some shopping. Go home.’ McIntyre paused, some of the colour leaching out of her face. ‘Shit, that was insensitive. Sorry.’

‘It’s all right, ma’am. I know what you meant.’

‘Where are you staying, by the way? Not Grumpy Bob’s I hope.’

‘No. I’m at my gran’s old place. Up Braid Hills way.’

‘Well, make sure we’ve got a phone number where we can reach you.’

McLean nodded, turned to go, then stopped. ‘Any news about DC Robertson?’

‘He’ll walk again.’ McIntyre rubbed at her eyes again. ‘But they reckon he’s going to be off sick for at least a year.’

‘Bloody hell. We’re short enough staffed as it is. Any chance of pinching a few more from uniform?’

‘I’m working on it, Tony, but believe it or not, not everyone wants to be a detective these days.’ McIntyre scratched at her face absentmindedly. ‘Still, Aberdeen have come to our rescue; they’re sending one of theirs down on secondment, with a possibility of transfer.’

‘Oh aye. Anyone I know?’

McIntyre pulled a sheet of paper from her out-tray and peered at it for a moment.

‘DS Ritchie,’ she said. ‘She’ll be here in a fortnight. You can show her around. If you’re still with us.’