The Book of Souls (Inspector McLean #2)(86)

‘Yeah. Didn’t really feel like going out last night.’

‘How about tonight then? I was going to go to the pub with Phil later. But I can cancel.’

‘No, pub sounds fine. And it’s always fun drinking with Phil. Get him a bit pished and he’s a gold-mine of secret information. I’ll see you there.’ Emma hefted the box again and set off in the direction of the stairs.

‘OK. Give my regards to Needy,’ McLean said, but she was already gone.

‘I’ve managed to run down a couple more of the fire sites, sir. They both have links to the Guild of Strangers.’

McLean sat on an uncomfortable chair at the white-cloth-topped table set up for the press conference. Rows of empty seats stretched away to the far end of the room and the double doors where soon the jackals would enter. The briefing could have gone better; even now DS Ritchie was closeted in an anteroom with the superintendent and the DCC discussing aspects of the case. Sergeant Hwei was sitting at the far end of the table scribbling furiously into a notepad. Of Grumpy Bob there was no sign, but that was probably for the best.

‘What was that?’

‘The fires, sir. You wanted historical checks on the sites?’

McLean’s brain caught up. He’d been so immersed in the murder investigations he’d completely forgotten the fires. As bad as Duguid, concentrating on one case to the detriment of all his others. The thought brought a wry smile to his lips.

‘And what did you find?’

‘Well, it’s tenuous. Just the odd mention here and there. I’ve been trying to get in touch with a history professor at the university. He’s meant to be the expert on all the guild stuff. But he’s been away in the US over Christmas. Should be back today.’

‘OK. Go see him. Let’s try and get something to put in the report when the investigation dies.’

MacBride nodded, but didn’t leave. He looked like he wanted to ask something. McLean sat silently waiting for the DS to build up the courage.

‘Um, sir?’ MacBride said eventually. ‘Where are you going with this link? I mean, it’s not as if there’s a Guild of Strangers any more. And even if there were, why would they set fire to their old sites? Jealousy? And how are they doing it? I mean, we’ve got no forensic evidence for arson, no sign of accidents ...’ He tailed off, run out of steam.

‘I’m more interested in any sites linked to them that haven’t burned yet. If we can find a pattern that allows us to predict the next fire, then we can set up surveillance. Catch whoever’s doing this in the act.’ Well, it was the best course of action they had, simply because it was the only one.

‘You want I should get on that right away?’ There was undeniable hope in the detective sergeant’s eyes as he asked the question. At the same time the double doors at the far end of the hall swung open, the first of the journalists bustling in to try and get the best seats.

‘Aye, might as well. No point you hanging round here.’

McLean slumped back in his seat as MacBride scuttled out; shut his eyes for a moment and tried to prepare himself for the onslaught. This was one part of the job that was definitely easier when you were lower down the greasy pole.

‘Well, that wasn’t as bad as it could have been.’

An hour later. McLean looked at DS Ritchie and tried to work out whether she was being sarcastic. Her expression gave nothing away, but then she had learned fast from shadowing Grumpy Bob. On balance, given the hour they had just spent with the gentlemen and ladies of the press, he was going to side with sarcasm.

‘What do you think’s going on back there?’ He nodded in the direction of the anteroom where McIntyre had closeted herself with the DCC. Dagwood was in there with them too, which didn’t bode well.

‘Your guess is as good as mine, sir. We didn’t have much time for the press back in Aberdeen. Not if we could work without them.’

‘Yeah, well, Harry bloody Lubkin’s knocked that idea for six. Moaning bastard. If he’d come to us the day his wife walked out, and not left it until almost a week later, we might’ve had a chance. Stirring things up with the press isn’t going to bring her back now, is it?’

Ritchie said nothing, which showed she had some sense. McLean rolled his shoulders and tried to ease the tension out of his neck. It had grown increasingly stiff as the press conference had degenerated into a series of ever-wilder allegations of police incompetence. Why had it taken so long to start the search for the missing woman? Why hadn’t the city been alerted about the appearance of a serial killer? What were they going to do to protect the young women of Edinburgh? Were they reopening the Anderson case to see if there’d been a miscarriage of justice? Could they find their own arses with two hands and a torch?

‘Sometimes they’re nice to us, you know. The press,’ McLean said after a while. ‘Don’t know what we did to deserve that kicking. I don’t much fancy Dan Hwei’s job when the papers come out tomorrow morning.’

Ritchie looked like she was about to say something, but she was interrupted by the click of the anteroom door opening. Superintendent McIntyre came out first, her face dark and angry. Behind her, DCI Duguid and Deputy Chief Constable Wodehouse were sharing a joke. McLean stood up, a feeling of impending doom in his stomach.

‘Ah, detective inspector, you’re still here. Good.’ There was little warmth left in the DCC’s voice after he’d finished laughing with Dagwood.