What Will Burn by James Oswald (ebook reader web .txt) 📕

superintendent cast her gaze in their direction, dismissing Lofty with a ‘Thank you, Detective Constable’ that was both polite and unambiguous. McLean watched the giant leave, knowing full well that he had to stay. On the other hand, at least he had something to do.

‘You’ll be aware that I moved up from London to take this job.’ The chief superintendent’s words dragged McLean’s attention back to her, and he found himself almost standing to attention. Something about her made him want to suck his gut in, even though it wasn’t particularly prominent in the first place.

‘Yes, ma’am.’

She stared at him for a long while, the gaze from her pale grey eyes uncomfortable. It wasn’t that he felt she was seeing right into him, more that he simply didn’t know what to say to her. He knew so little about her beyond her name, her rank, and now what she looked like. He was about to fall into the trap he so often set himself, and say something – anything – to fill the growing silence. But then she laughed and broke into a smile that seemed to light up the whole room.

‘It’s Tony, right?’ She indicated for him to sit, taking her own seat again. McIntyre joined them at the conference table once more.

‘Yes, ma’am.’ McLean sounded like a scratched record, and it brought another laugh from the chief superintendent. The juxtaposition between the laughter and the uniform was unsettling.

‘Please, call me Gail. Ma’am makes me sound like some kind of headmistress.’

McLean almost pointed out that her position within the organisation of Police Scotland, in charge of the largest station in the nation’s capital, meant that headmistress was quite a good job description, but his sense of self-preservation was beginning to reassert itself. He nodded his understanding rather than risk repeating himself.

‘That letter.’ The chief superintendent pointed at the jacket pocket into which McLean had put it. ‘That was one of my first official duties when I started this job. Paint hardly dry on my office door, and I’ve to sign a letter officially reprimanding one of my senior officers and demoting him from the rank of DCI to DI. You can imagine that’s not quite what I was expecting to be doing with my time.’

Again McLean refrained from answering directly. Instead he tilted his head and nodded slowly once. It seemed to do the trick.

‘There were those higher up than me, higher up than the chief constable himself, who thought you should have been given the boot, you know.’

‘It doesn’t surprise me,’ McIntyre said, before McLean could even open his mouth. ‘Tony has a knack of annoying people. In this instance three of Scotland’s richest émigrés. Frankly I’d’ve been surprised if nobody’d tried to kick back against that.’

‘Yes, well.’ The chief superintendent sat up a little straighter and tugged at the front of her jacket as if it hadn’t already been sitting perfectly. ‘I don’t like being told how to do my job like I’m some fresh-out-of-training constable, and I didn’t think it would be a good start to bend to the pressure from above. Don’t want to be thought of as a “yes” girl from the off.’

‘I’m very glad to hear that, ma— Gail. And I’m sorry that I’ve brought down that kind of pressure on you before you’ve even got your feet under your desk, so to speak.’

That got McLean a raised eyebrow. ‘I was a chief superintendent in the Met before I came north, Tony. I think I can cope with anything Edinburgh can throw at me. Rather not have to spend all my time putting out fires you’ve lit, though.’

An image rose unbidden in McLean’s mind then. Two young boys bored by the long summer holidays, starting a fire that spread to the moors to the south of the city and inadvertently revealed ancient and grisly secrets. The start of the whole series of events that had got him suspended in the first place.

‘Do you find me amusing, Detective Inspector?’ The change in Elmwood’s tone was instant, snapping from friendly to drill sergeant without a pause for breath. Too late, McLean realised he must have let the ghost of a smile reach his face.

‘I’m sorry, ma’am. No. It was just the phrase “putting out fires”. I’m sure Detective Superintendent McIntyre can explain. Or—’

‘Never mind.’ The chief superintendent shook her head as she interrupted him. ‘The point I’m trying to make is that you’re on an official warning. As I said before, you have allies fighting your corner, Tony. They convinced me to let you stay, even if I was minded to do so anyway. Just don’t make me regret that decision, OK?’

6

A chill wind blew off the Pentland Hills, shaking the high branches of the wych elms on the Meadows and tumbling dead brown leaves to the grass. Janie Harrison regretted suggesting to DC Blane that they walk over from the station, her normal stride being about half the length of his. She could have cadged a lift in a squad car, although she had to admit she missed riding in DCI McLean’s Alfa Romeo. Even if there was something ever so slightly disturbing about its absurdly powerful engine under that long bonnet, its deep red leather interior.

‘So how’s it feel to be a detective sergeant then?’ Lofty asked.

‘Can’t say I’ve noticed much difference, to be honest. Still the same amount of work to do as ever. See when we get those new DCs we’ve been promised, I can maybe shunt some of it on to them, aye?’

‘Know what you mean. Seems daft being sent off to do this. Talking to some bloke about a harassment case, verbal abuse or something? Shouldn’t that be uniform’s job? I mean, I’m happy to get out of the station for a bit of fresh air, but we’re short enough on detectives as it is. Should be concentrating on that poor old wifey up in the woods, shouldn’t we?’

Janie shrugged, then shoved her hands into her pockets and hunched