The Book of Souls (Inspector McLean #2)(85)

Almost as he said the words, the detective constable backed through the door with a tray in his hands. Coffee and biscuits enough to go around everyone if Grumpy Bob didn’t turn up soon and DC Simmons didn’t want anything.

‘Just the man,’ McLean said, helping himself to a mug. ‘And just what we need too. Get everyone together. We’ve got a press conference to prepare for.’





55





An annoying, tinny beep invaded a dream he didn’t realise he was having until it started to slip away. McLean rolled over, reaching for the bedside lamp, and only then realised that it was getting light outside. The clock said eight.

Not like him to sleep through the alarm. Then he saw that it was switched off. He’d done that the morning before, after it had interrupted him and Emma. The bed was much less welcoming without her. Groaning, he snatched up the phone, still beeping and buzzing beside the clock.

‘McLean.’ It would be the station, wondering where he was. There was the small matter of a press conference to attend to. At least the case-files were all up to date; that was why he hadn’t got to bed until three in the morning, after all.

‘Hey, Tony, happy new year.’

‘Phil? You back already? I mean, yeah, happy new year.’ McLean climbed out of bed and went to stare out the window as he talked, shivering slightly at the cold.

‘Just got in last night. I was wondering what you were up to. Fancy a pint and a blether? Usual time, usual place.’

McLean was about to say yes when an awkward thought hit him. ‘I don’t live in Newington any more, Phil. The Arms is a bit of a pain to get to from here.’

‘Christ, yes. That was a bit thick of me, I’d forgotten all about it. Where then?’

McLean yawned, scratched at his belly. It was difficult to think straight before coffee. ‘I don’t know, Phil. What about the Drookit Dug? It’s not far from your place, and it’s on the way home for me.’

‘OK, usual time.’ In the background, McLean could hear shouted words, but not make out what they said. A woman’s voice, most likely Rachel. Then Phil added: ‘And I’ve to ask about everything you and Emma have been up to.’

McLean looked away from the window, back to his empty bed, remembering Emma’s sudden anger the day before. ‘I’ve got to dash, Phil. Press conference. I’ll see you this evening.’

‘Where the hell have you been? We’ve got a press conference in less than an hour.’ Chief Superintendent McIntyre looked like she was about to explode.

‘I left the report on your desk last night, ma’am.’ At about two in the morning, to be precise, another reason for oversleeping that he didn’t think would help his cause.

‘I don’t give a damn about the report, Tony. I need you to brief me. And the deputy chief constable as well. We don’t have time to mess around with reports.’ McIntyre glanced at her watch. ‘The whole think kicks off in less than an hour.’

‘Is the DCC here?’ McLean asked, hoping for a reprieve, knowing already that it was hopeless.

‘He’s in my office.’

‘OK, well I’ll meet you in the conference room in fifteen minutes. I just need to fetch my papers.’ And get a coffee, McLean didn’t add.

McIntyre nodded her agreement, though she looked unhappy to be letting him out of her sight. He scurried off before she could change her mind, first heading for the CID room, where a tired-looking MacBride was staring unfocused at his computer screen.

‘Morning, constable. Grumpy Bob about?’

MacBride took too long to respond, his eyes darting nervously around the room before finally settling on McLean.

‘Canteen, I think. He was looking for you earlier.’

‘Find him for me, can you. And track down DS Ritchie, too. I want everyone at this press conference.’

‘She went off to get coffee,’ MacBride said, reaching for the phone. ‘Should be back any minute.’

McLean left the detective constable to track down the rest of the team and set off for his office. He wasn’t even halfway there when he met Emma coming down the corridor. She was carrying a large cardboard box and looked hassled. Her expression when she saw him was difficult to judge. He decided to go for the conciliatory approach.

‘Look, Emma, I’m really sorry—’

‘Tony, I didn’t—’ She spoke at exactly the same moment. They both stopped, looked at each other.

‘You go first,’ McLean said.

‘I didn’t mean to storm off like that yesterday. I’m sorry. It was petty of me.’

McLean wanted to agree, but a tiny voice of self-preservation told him that would be the wrong thing to do. ‘No, you were right,’ he said. ‘I shouldn’t just drop everything and run back to work whenever they call. It wasn’t just my day off, after all.’

Emma shifted the box, leaning it against the wall to take some of the weight off her arms.

‘Here, let me take that,’ McLean said.

‘No, you’re all right. It’s evidence from the McMurdo case. I’ve got to take it down to the store. Anyone else so much as touches it and there’ll be paperwork.’ She smiled and everything was all right.

‘OK. Well.’ McLean paused, unsure what to say. ‘Did you get my message? Messages, I should say.’