The Book of Souls (Inspector McLean #2)(67)

‘It’s all here already, sir. Who owns them, planning applications, the lot.’

‘No, I’m not interested in what’s there now. I want to know about the sites. We already know that the Woodbury building was on an old close. It’s got history. Find out about the others.’

‘You think that’ll help?’

‘I don’t know, but right now I’ve got nothing else.’ McLean wasn’t sure what it was that flickered across MacBride’s face; it looked a bit like incredulity. Well, the lad would have to get used to having his illusions shattered soon enough. Inspectors weren’t any more infallible than constables, really. Just older, and better at covering their arses.

‘It’s either that or back to Dagwood’s team. Unless you’ve got any more leads on Kate McKenzie and Audrey Carpenter?’

MacBride snapped the folders to his chest as if they were the most precious possessions he owned. ‘I’ll get right on it. What’re you going to do, sir?’

McLean smiled. ‘I’m going down to the basement. See a man about a book.’

McLean bumped into DS Ritchie on his way down to the evidence lockers. It was an accident; they just happened to reach the same corner at the same time, coming from different directions. He was preoccupied with thoughts about burning buildings; whatever filled her mind he had no idea. Having a head in height over her, and considerably greater bulk, he came the better off for the collision.

‘Oh Christ. I’m sorry. Are you OK?’ He bent down to help her up from the floor, then set to picking up the papers she had spilled everywhere. She stooped as well, and their skulls collided with a comedy thwack.

‘Ow! Sorry, sir.’ DS Ritchie stood up again, rubbing the top of her head, and let McLean get on with collecting paper. ‘I was just coming to find you, actually.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘Dag— er, DCI Duguid wanted to have a word.’

‘I thought he was away skiing.’

‘Apparently Mrs Duguid broke her leg so they came home early. I don’t think he’s too happy about that. Difficult to tell, mind you. He’s not exactly friendly at the best of times.’

Bloody marvellous. Not only was Dagwood back early, he was in a foul mood to boot.

‘I don’t suppose you know what he wanted me for,’ he said.

‘Something to do with the man you ID’d in the drugs case. Peter ...’ Ritchie started to shuffle through her papers, no doubt finding them in completely the wrong order.

‘Ayre. Peter Ayre. Thought I’d left enough information for him to work with. The man’s got form as long as my arm.’

‘Well, you know that the DCI’s like, sir.’

‘OK.’ McLean sighed. Less than a month in the station and already Ritchie had the measure of the Duguid. Self-preservation came above any other loyalty. ‘I’ll go and see him. But first I’ve my own errand to run.’

Ritchie looked at him with what might well have been pleading. ‘You can’t come right away?’

‘No, sergeant, I can’t. But if you want, you can come down to the evidence store with me. When I’m finished there we can both go and see Dagwood together.’

McLean shivered as he stepped through the heavy door to the evidence store. It was cooler in the basement than the rest of the station. Just in front of him, DS Ritchie shuddered as well.

‘Bit creepy down here, isn’t it?’

‘Ah, you get used to it.’ McLean walked up to the counter where Sergeant Needham could usually be found keeping inventory. There was no sign of him at his post, and the door to his small office was closed. He knocked, trying the handle and finding it locked.

‘Not here?’

‘Could be in the back, I suppose. Needy always locks his office when he’s away from the front room.’

‘Needy?’

‘At your service, madam. Whatever your needs, Needy can service them.’

McLean and Ritchie both turned to see the sergeant in his immaculate uniform standing in the door through which they had just come. He limped across the room to where they were standing.

‘You’ve been keeping secrets from me, inspector. Who is this delectable creature?’

‘Come off it, Needy. Nothing happens in this station and you don’t know about it.’ McLean watched the sergeant ham a pained expression. ‘All right, have it your way. Detective Sergeant Ritchie, this is Sergeant John Needham.’

Needy took Ritchie’s proffered hand, enveloping it in both of his. ‘Pleased to meet you at last,’ he said. ‘And might I add that it is a genuine delight to see such loveliness down here in my dark lair. Now, how may I help you?’

‘I need to have a look at the Anderson stuff,’ McLean said.

‘Thought you already had it.’ Needy produced a set of keys from his jacket and unlocked his office door. ‘That young detective constable of yours signed it out before Christmas.’

‘It wasn’t the case files I was interested in,’ McLean said. ‘We’ve still got the forensic evidence, haven’t we? The stuff that was needed for the trial?’

‘Of course. I’ll go and get it.’

Needy limped off into the depths of the evidence store, leaving McLean and Ritchie alone.