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

merely making a comment. Her accent was too English to work it out, so she went for the neutral option.

‘If a DS position comes up, I’ll certainly apply, ma’am. Things have been a bit busy though lately.’

The chief superintendent stared at her down that perfect nose again, saying nothing as her pale grey eyes bored through Janie’s skull and into her soul. She stood her ground, and after what felt like hours but was probably only a few seconds, the chief superintendent shrugged.

‘What do you make of him, then?’

For a moment Janie couldn’t think who she was referring to. Then the penny dropped. ‘DCI McLean? He’s . . .’ Put on the spot like that, she couldn’t think of anything to say. The chief superintendent was quicker to respond this time.

‘Impetuous? Careless? Not a team player?’ There was no mistaking the tone now, English accent or not.

‘I’m not sure it’s very fair putting Janie on the spot like that, is it, ma’am?’ McIntyre stepped in at precisely the right moment, and Janie couldn’t help but notice the heavy emphasis she had put on the word ‘ma’am’. A brief scowl marred the chief superintendent’s perfect features for an instant, then dissolved into a politician’s smile.

‘Of course, Jayne. But you know I have to review the report from Professional Standards into this summer’s . . .’ She paused, tilted her head like a confused dog as she searched for the right word. ‘. . . events.’

Janie saw the tension rise in McIntyre’s body, then dissipate as the detective superintendent calmed herself. How many months now was it since that incident up on the moors? Long enough that the DCI had fully recovered from his injuries, but clearly not long enough for the people he’d upset to forget. That was his special skill, after all. Pissing off people in high places and not giving a damn about the consequences.

‘You’re working on an accidental death case at the moment, are you not?’ The chief superintendent phrased it as a question, but it was clear to Janie that she already knew. It made a nice change, if a little unnerving, to be noticed by the high heidyins.

‘I was just back from the post-mortem the now, ma’am. No’ sure it was so accidental after all.’ Janie gave both her superior officers a rundown of what she’d learned from the pathologist. ‘I was looking for DI Ritchie, but I can pass it straight up to you if you’d prefer. I’ll have the initial report done before lunchtime.’

The chief superintendent stared at her again down that long nose. Aquiline, that was the word for it. Roman, maybe. For a moment it was as if the whole world had gone silent, and Janie could feel herself withering under that gaze. And then as swiftly as it was applied, the tension disappeared, and the chief superintendent broke into a broad smile.

‘I can see why you like her, Jayne,’ she said, before turning her attention back to Harrison. ‘Yes, I’d like to see that report, Detective Constable. I’d also like to see your name on the list of suitable candidates for promotion. You’ve passed the exams, I take it?’

‘I . . . Yes, ma’am.’

‘Well then, acting Detective Sergeant Harrison. That report on my desk in an hour.’

5

‘Explain to me again why you decided to go against procedure and enter the premises at Oakhill Farm. On your own and without any form of back-up.’

Detective Chief Inspector Tony McLean suppressed a weary sigh and shifted his position slightly, trying to find a little comfort even though the designers of the chair had carefully ensured there would be none. His hip ached where it had been broken several years before, and even though it had been months now since the events he was being asked to describe yet again, he could still feel the soreness in his muscles. Worse now the weather was turning cold and wet. Such was the joy of getting older. His ears rang, ever so slightly, with the echo of the explosion that had almost collapsed an entire cavern on his head, and the heads of several extremely wealthy individuals whose influence he could see all over this ongoing disciplinary process. Professional Standards might claim to be incorruptible, but someone was clearly leaning on them to be extra thorough this time.

‘As I believe I told you before, and your colleague Inspector Williams, I had reason to believe a person’s life was in immediate danger. Neither mobile phones nor the airwave network were working, so I sent Detective Constable Harrison for back-up and proceeded alone.’

‘And you think that utter disregard for procedure was justified?’

McLean heard the sneer in the question; it was impossible not to. His interrogator, or maybe inquisitor was a better description, had not tried to hide his contempt from the very first interview a couple of months ago, and nothing much had changed in the intervening time.

‘I rather think that’s for you to decide, isn’t it, Chief Inspector Crane?’ He leaned back in his uncomfortable chair and quite deliberately folded his arms across his chest. At this point, McLean no longer cared whether they sacked him or not. He was satisfied that none of the junior officers involved in the case were going to get a black mark against them for what he’d done. If Police Scotland wanted to hang him out to dry, well, he could always take up gardening.

‘It’s precisely that attitude that’s the problem, McLean. You have no respect for authority, don’t give a damn about doing things the right way. You have a very poor record of attendance at senior officers’ strategy meetings. Quite how you ever made it to detective chief inspector I’ve no idea.’

Crane’s face, never exactly pale at the best of times, began to redden as he worked himself up to a crescendo. McLean had seen the performance a dozen times since the inquiry had begun, so was less worried now that the chief inspector might have a heart attack, or that his head would explode. He was a man who perhaps spent rather