The Book of Souls (Inspector McLean #2)(31)

‘First-floor flats were both professional couples. Renting, I think. The small one ...’ McLean slumped down onto a nearby chair, drained of all energy. The cat which had followed him into the mobile office now leapt into his lap and pushed its head against his hand until he started stroking it.

‘You know who it was.’ Burrows’ voice was soft, concerned.

‘Mrs McCutcheon. Christ, she was old. Probably born in that flat. She was a nosey old bat, but she didn’t deserve that. None of them did.’

They sat together in silence for a while. He was still stroking the cat when Grumpy Bob and DC MacBride found him.

‘Wondered where you got to, sir.’ Grumpy Bob climbed up into the tiny space, then noticed the cat. ‘Who’s your new friend? Oh.’

‘Everyone who lived in that tenement died last night, Bob. Ten people dead. Except me.’

‘No’ everyone, sir. Yon cat’s still got at least one of its lives left.’

McLean held the purring beast up, staring into its eyes and wondering what he was going to do with it. He should probably call the SSPCA warden, have it taken away. But that seemed somehow disrespectful.

‘What’s the status of the building, Mr Burrows?’ He asked, finally.

‘We’ve got all the bodies out. Pretty sure of that. Scaffold work’ll take a few hours yet, but they’ll go through the night. We can’t open the street until it’s done and I’ve had traffic control screaming at me all afternoon to get it sorted.’

‘What about the SOC team. When can they get in there?’

‘For what? They’ll no’ find anything much.’

‘They have to try.’

‘Well it’ll no’ be til tomorrow, that’s for sure.’

‘OK.’ McLean put the cat back down on the floor and stood up. It twined itself around his legs again, purring all the while. ‘And thanks, for trying.’

‘Don’t mention it. It’s my job.’

The air outside smelled of damp and charred wood. McLean hadn’t noticed it before; he’d been too caught up in the strangeness of the whole scene. Now, as if he were slowly awakening from a dream, he started to see more of the details. The cars that had been parked in the street in front of the tenement were all being removed by a series of trucks. Shiny and clean down one side, their paint was blistered and cracked by the heat of the fire on the other. One had caught fire itself, its tyres melted like chocolate left on a sunny windowsill. They’d be taken back to the SOC lab for tests before being released to their owners. With luck, one or more of them might have belonged to the drug dealers; it might even be that elusive clue that opened up the whole case.

But it wasn’t his case. It was Duguid’s. He’d already pissed off the DCI once today, best not to make it a brace.

‘MacBride, I’m afraid you’ve drawn the short straw here, since you’ve only just joined the hallowed ranks of CID.’ McLean told the detective constable all that he had learned from Burrows, then suggested he might like to find a subtle way of passing the information on. ‘Just don’t tell him I was here. You know what he’s like. Oh, and you’ll have to walk back to the station.’ He held his hand out for the pool-car keys.

MacBride looked like he was going to complain, but stopped himself. No doubt reasoning that in the time it took to get there, Duguid might well have gone home. Or even decided to visit the scene himself.

‘What’re you going to do, sir?’ He handed over the keys and McLean passed them on to Grumpy Bob.

‘Me? I’m meant to be on compassionate leave today, and for the rest of the week at least. So Bob here’s going to take me home. Then he’s going to start reviewing all of the cases I’m currently working on. Come on, Bob.’

He started walking back to the car, not surprised to find that the cat had decided to follow him. Grumpy Bob took a bit longer to catch up.

‘What do you mean, review the cases?’

‘What I said, Bob. I’m on leave. And then Professional Standards are going to give me a grilling. Someone’s got to pick up the work. The chief superintendent said you were man enough to step into my shoes.’

They reached the car and McLean climbed into the front passenger seat. Before he could close the door, the cat had leapt up onto his lap. It turned around once, then curled up into a black, furry ball as Grumpy Bob opened his door and got in.

‘You know anything about cats, Bob?’ McLean asked.

‘Don’t even ask, sir.’

‘Then it looks like this one’s coming home with me.’

Just then McLean heard the patter of running feet. Before he could turn to look, the rear door had been wrenched open and someone jumped in.

‘Hope you don’t mind.’ Emma was a little breathless, but no longer wore her SOC overalls.

‘Um, what are you doing, Emma?’ McLean asked.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I’m going home. Well, to my gran’s place, but I guess it’s home now. Then I’m going to head into town and buy myself some fresh clothes.’

‘Exactly.’ Emma grinned. ‘And if that suit’s anything to go by, you’re going to need all the help you can get.’





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