The Book of Souls (Inspector McLean #2)(51)



‘It would be a lot easier if you and the chief superintendent and the press and everyone else with an opinion didn’t keep reminding me of it.’

‘That’s a lot of hostility for someone who’s come to terms with his loss and moved on.’

‘Moved on?’ McLean could feel his anger beginning to rise again. ‘Who says I’ve moved on? This isn’t something you can just leave behind, Hilton. The sort of person who could leave this behind is precisely the sort of person who could abduct, rape and murder two women without remorse. Me, I have to live with Kirsty’s death every day. It’s a huge chunk of my life. It colours who I am. But I know that. I cope with that. I can’t move on. Not in the way you mean. But I can cope.’

‘By throwing yourself into your work? By refusing to engage in anything but the most superficial of relationships? Is that coping, Tony? Or is that putting your head in the sand?’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ McLean crossed his legs, sat up in his uncomfortable armchair, even though he knew it was showing himself off as being on the defensive.

‘Listen to yourself, Tony.’ Hilton’s smug smile was back. ‘I’ve seen your personal file. You’re rapidly approaching forty and yet you’re not married, don’t have children. I’ve asked around, and as far as I can tell you’re not gay. So why no romantic interest? Good-looking chap like you, I’d have thought you’d be fighting them off with a stick.’

‘I really don’t think my private life has anything to do with you, Hilton. As I understand it you’re here to assess my fitness for work. Is there something wrong with my performance?’

‘Well, you did take one of your junior officers into a dangerous situation, leading directly to his serious injury.’ Hilton peered down at his notebook as he spoke. ‘And you trampled unannounced into an ongoing SOCA investigation.’

‘And Professional Standards were quite happy that I hadn’t acted improperly in either case. Strathclyde were warned we were coming, they just chose not to do anything about it. And as for the accident, the fire officer had secured the site. He was as surprised as I was when the floor collapsed.’

‘And when was the last time you visited Detective Sergeant Robertson? I understand he’s still in the Western General.’ Hilton looked up from his notebook and fixed McLean with an unflinching stare. He wasn’t smiling now.

‘I ... I’ve been busy.’

‘Busy? You were on leave for three weeks, Tony. And yet you never once made the effort to visit your colleague. What do you think that says about you?’

The canteen had an air of festive bonhomie about it quite at odds with his own mood. The catering staff had strung tinsel and paper decorations all around the room, and the PA speakers trickled out a tinny collection of kitsch Christmas tunes. McLean ignored it all, trying hard to shake the jitteriness that filled him after Hilton’s counselling session. It was bad enough that he thought the man a waste of space; worse still when he was right about so many things.

‘Thought you might end up in here, sir. I kept a spot warm for you,’ Grumpy Bob called from a table over by the radiators. McLean paid for his coffee and bacon buttie, then went to join the sergeant.

‘Christ I needed that,’ he said after tearing a couple of bites and washing them down.

‘Hilton that bad is he?’

‘Worse. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.’

Grumpy Bob held up his hands in mock horror. ‘Nothing could be further from my mind, sir. That’s strictly for late-night sessions fuelled by curry, beer and fine single-malt whisky.’

McLean smiled, letting some of the morning’s pent-up tension leach out of him. Soon he’d be finished with the sessions, he promised himself. Soon.

‘So where are we with the investigation then, Bob?’

‘Well, we could do with more officers, but that’s not going to happen right now. Top brass are screaming for results, but as soon as you mention manpower shortages, they start spouting gibberish about budget cuts.’

‘Bloody marvellous.’

‘Aye, that’s about what I said.’ Grumpy Bob raised an eyebrow. ‘Anyway, we’ve got pretty much all we’re going to get from forensics. Our man knew a thing or two, putting the bodies in running water.’

‘But he didn’t kill them there, did he? Anderson didn’t, anyway. And if our man had done, there’d be something for the SOC boys to find.’

‘I guess so.’

‘So where did he take them? Where did he kill them?’

‘I don’t know. Could be anywhere, I suppose.’ Grumpy Bob thumbed the edge of his mug.

‘Well where were they last seen? Kate McKenzie was up Liberton Brae, near Mortonhall. Audrey was living rough in the Grassmarket area. Too much to hope that there’d be a pattern, I suppose.’

‘There never was with Anderson, either. He took his victims from all over the city.’

‘But he took them back to his shop in the Canongate.’ McLean shuddered as he remembered the place. ‘What happened to it? Last I saw it was boarded up.’

‘Still is, far as I know. We’ve probably still got the keys. It’s not as if Anderson had any family to hand all his stuff over to. Needy’s likely got it all stored away down in his wee kingdom under the ground.’

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