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

know. She waved the sheet of paper gently while the custody sergeant made up his mind. In the end it didn’t take long.

‘Aye, OK.’ He stood up, fetching a set of keys from a chain on his belt. ‘An’ if you can get that other lassie to pipe down, I’ll see about letting the rest of them out too.’

Seeing her led out of the corridor where the cells were and told to sit in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs lined up along the far wall, Janie was struck by just how much Isobel DeVilliers looked like a younger, angrier version of Con Fairchild. She had the same nose, same cheekbones, her vivid red hair cut spiky short, eyes blazing with righteous fury. She wore the standard uniform of the street protester: overlarge cotton khaki jacket sewn with a few unidentifiable badges, baggy black cotton joggers worn more for warmth than style. The bead bangles looped around her wrists were a slight nod to hippy culture, although the effect was somewhat ruined by the custody sergeant having taken the laces out of her Doc Marten boots. Tam told her to wait, then he turned to Janie, winked, and left the room. DeVilliers slouched in the plastic chair, legs spread wide like a teenage boy on the underground, head tilted back and gently thud, thud, thudding against the wall behind her. She paid Janie no heed whatsoever. Being detained clearly didn’t scare her, which suggested it wasn’t a new experience.

‘Isobel DeVilliers?’ Janie asked, beginning to regret the course of action she’d committed herself to. The young woman barely reacted, tilting her head forward just enough to get a glimpse of her before leaning it back against the wall again.

‘You don’t look like a lawyer,’ she said.

‘That’s because I’m not. Detective Sergeant Janie Harrison.’ Janie crossed the room, resisting the urge to kick Isobel’s legs together, and sat down in the chair beside her. ‘I worked a case with your sister earlier in the year.’

A slight exaggeration, but it got the result she was hoping for. DeVilliers sat up straight, pulled her jacket down where the lapels had ridden up her neck, brought her legs in together and started paying attention.

‘Con’s my half-sister,’ she said, and even her accent was the same.

‘Half-sister, sister. It’s no matter. She’s my friend, so I’m helping her out. By helping you out, Isobel.’

‘It’s Izzy. Only my dad calls me Isobel. My real dad, that is.’

‘Well, Izzy. I’m sure he’ll be proud of you getting yourself locked up in a police cell. Isn’t he some kind of justice of the peace or something? Be a bit embarrassing for him, his youngest arrested. I dare say Con won’t be too happy either.’

Izzy’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve told her?’

‘Is that the first thing you think of? Really? I’d have thought you’d be more worried about spending time behind bars for public order offences. Could be time in jail for what you did.’

Izzy folded her hands across her chest, upper lip twitching as she tried to suppress a sneer. ‘You lot would do that, would you? Lock us up while trash like Fielding are free to spout their hate and get paid for it?’

Janie rubbed at her nose, feeling the oncoming itch that heralded her allergic reaction. It might have been something Izzy was wearing, but the girl didn’t look like she’d had a bath or shower in days, let alone shoved on some aggressive deodorant. Far more likely the custody sergeant was a fan of Lynx body spray.

‘No. Us lot wouldn’t. Between you and me,’ she leaned in a little closer, lowered her voice, ‘I’d be happy to see Fielding and his little band of half men run out of town. Your noisy protest outside his hotel’s not exactly making that easy.’

‘It’s not my protest. I’m just there to help. What he does is wrong, you know?’

Janie stood up, sniffed back the sudden runniness in her nose. ‘I know. Come on.’

Izzy looked at her, confusion wiping away the anger. ‘With you?’

‘Well, unless you want to stay here. Reckon the custody sergeant will be back soon, get you processed and charged. Into a cell until you can be taken to the Sheriff Court.’ Janie made a show of checking her watch. ‘It’s late now, so that’ll be tomorrow.’

‘Fuck that.’ Izzy was on her feet and halfway to the door before she seemed to notice her boots were loose. ‘Any chance of getting my laces back?’

Janie caught up with her, opened the door and ushered her out. ‘Probably best we pick you up some new ones, eh? I’m chancing my luck enough as it is.’

20

The group of officers sitting around the conference table was much smaller than McLean would have liked for a murder investigation team. Detective Constables Stringer and Blane sat at the far end, DS Harrison and DS Gregg on either side of them. He’d hoped to entice DI Ritchie, and possibly even Detective Superintendent McIntyre into the case review meeting, but both were apparently on the other side of the country. Instead, Ritchie had sent along two of the new intake of detective constables, both looking a bit shell-shocked, and terribly young. Had he been like that, when he’d first made the move to plain clothes? Barely needing to shave of a morning? Probably.

Not that either of these two needed to shave. Jessica Bryant had come through the fast track, not long out of university. Her colleague, Cassandra Mitchell, had transferred in to SCD from Traffic. McLean hoped they survived being thrown in at the deep end.

‘OK then. I think that’s everyone who’s coming.’ He cast a glance at the open office door, even though he knew nobody else was going to walk through it any time soon. ‘Let’s get down to business. Cecily Slater. This case is going nowhere fast.’

Harrison spoke into the awkward silence that followed. ‘It doesn’t help much that she was dead for a week before anyone found her, sir. And everyone thought it