What Will Burn by James Oswald (latest novels to read .TXT) 📗

it, reading Angus Cadwallader’s terse prose in the pathology report again. For once he was glad it had been Harrison and not him attending the examination. The poor old woman had been given the works, for sure. What on earth could have possessed someone, or more likely several somebodies, to do such a thing to a ninety-year-old like Cecily Slater?

McLean frowned at the name as it appeared on the next part of the report. They had put together the basic facts, but there was no sense of the person behind them. A recluse, she’d been living in that cottage for as long as anyone could remember. She was the younger sister of the previous Lord Bairnfather, on whose family estate the cottage lay. Bairnfather Hall was a boutique hotel now, and the current lord lived in London. He’d been informed of his aunt’s death, but as yet nobody had interviewed him about her. That struck McLean as odd, but a note on the file said he was currently in the US on business and would let the police know as soon as he was back. The note was almost two weeks old now.

The whole case had a lethargy to it quite out of keeping with the horror of the crime. Possibly because it hadn’t been uncovered earlier; the first twenty-four hours in any investigation were crucial, and they’d long gone before anyone even knew there was a case at all. Possibly because they were so short of detectives the initial investigation had fallen to a lowly DC. McLean couldn’t fault Janie Harrison’s abilities, but everyone had been working on the assumption this had been a tragic accident until the post-mortem had suggested otherwise. They’d wasted so much time, lost so much invaluable forensic evidence. Now the case was going nowhere, stalled before it had even started, vital clues missed and important avenues of enquiry left unexplored. Almost two weeks since her body had been found, three since she had died, Cecily Slater deserved a lot more than she was getting.

Leafing through the actions that had been carried out so far, he found one glaring omission. An oversight, perhaps, or maybe just something that nobody had got around to yet. He picked up his phone and stared at the buttons on the console for a moment while he tried to remember how the damned thing worked. Too long out of the saddle. It would be easier just to go and find someone to ask.

It took only a few minutes to walk to the incident room, one floor down. Like the case itself, it wasn’t exactly a hive of industry. A few uniformed constables sat at computer screens or talked on headsets as if they were in a call centre, but only one whiteboard had been written on so far, photographs from the scene pinned up alongside it. This whole investigation needed a kick up the arse, and he cursed himself for letting it get so bad.

McLean looked around the room until he finally spied one person not quite managing to hide behind a computer screen. Detective Sergeant Sandy Gregg knew she’d been spotted. Or maybe she’d simply been trying to finish up what she’d been doing before coming to help her DI.

‘I’ve been reviewing the case notes, and I can’t find any mention of a follow-up interview with the person who found her. Just the initial questioning at the scene. You know if that’s been done yet?’

Gregg looked embarrassed. ‘If it’s not on the system, then my best bet is no, sir. Janie would know better, but I think she’s away running errands for the new chief super.’

McLean raised a surprised eyebrow. He’d not seen much of their new boss since their first meeting. Was this Elmwood’s preferred method of working, to go straight to the sergeants? Or was she grooming Harrison for greater things? Neither situation worried him much.

‘Well, if you see her before I do, get her to set up an interview, can you? I think it’s time we pulled everything together with this investigation, before it gets away from us.’

‘I’ll get right on it. Want me to send her up to your office when she comes in?’

McLean checked his watch, remembering the other reason why he’d maybe not given quite as much attention to the case as it warranted. ‘No. It’ll have to be tomorrow. I’ve got to go to a retraining session in half an hour.’

‘Retraining?’ DS Gregg didn’t even try to keep the incredulity from her voice.

‘Retraining, reorientation, whatever you want to call it. All part of my penance. Still, it could have been worse. They could have busted me down to sergeant, and then I’d be back in the CID room with the rest of you.’

It wasn’t until much later that he finally managed to get some time to go over the case notes properly. Deep in concentration, McLean sensed a presence in the open doorway to his office rather than seeing anything. Looking up, he was surprised to find the new station chief standing just inside the room, her gaze taking it all in before finally coming to rest on him.

‘Ma— Gail.’ He scrambled to his feet. ‘I didn’t see you there. Is there something I can help you with?’

The chief superintendent smiled warmly, then turned and closed the door before speaking. ‘Working late, Tony?’

‘Catching up, mostly. I’ve been out of the loop almost three months and the first thing I get handed is a murder that’s already two weeks old? Doesn’t help that I keep getting dragged away on “reorientation” sessions.’ He held his hands up and made little bunny ears in the air around the word reorientation, even though it annoyed the hell out of him when other people did it. Maybe the sessions themselves were worse.

‘Boxes have to be ticked, I’m afraid. You can thank the auditors for that.’ The chief superintendent walked slowly across the room, pulled a chair out from the conference table and then dragged it across