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

agitation and begun to sob. Not the full-throated someone’s trying to kill me wail that Janie associated with small infants, but distress nonetheless.

‘Hey, hey, little one. Daddy won’t hurt you ever again, my sweetheart.’ Miranda hugged her daughter close, one hand gently stroking the infant’s wispy hair. In moments the child had calmed.

Janie stood up, one hand going to her pocket. She pulled out a card, aware that it still identified her as Detective Constable Harrison. It didn’t matter, the numbers were the same. ‘I’m sorry. We should have known about Mr Whitaker’s . . . situation before we came here. I’d offer my condolences, but I don’t think you’d want them. If you need anything else though, give me a call.’

She slid the card on to the coffee table. DC Blane was already through the door and into the hallway.

‘We’ll see ourselves out, Mrs Whitaker. Thank you for your time.’

Janie was halfway to the door before the woman spoke.

‘It’s Miss Keegan. There’s no Mrs Whitaker any more.’

‘Well that was a bit bloody embarrassing.’

Janie sat in the passenger seat this time, staring out at the identikit houses as DC Blane drove slowly away from Miranda Keegan’s address.

‘Sorry, Janie. I should have done a proper background on him.’

‘Don’t sweat it, we all make mistakes. Still embarrassing, finding out from her like that.’

‘Do you think it makes a difference to the case?’ Blane hunched over the steering wheel, elbows out at awkward angles as he tried to fit into a space not built with him in mind. Janie should have offered to drive, but he’d insisted it was his turn.

‘What do you mean? Do I think she somehow torched her ex?’ She shook her head. ‘No. She was genuinely surprised to hear he was dead. Elated, sure, but surprised.’

‘We’ll still have to get her in for an interview. Look into her background.’

‘Like we looked into her husband’s?’

‘Aye, well. Like I said. Sorry about that.’

‘She didn’t strike me as the vengeful type. Not the way you said her husband died.’

‘I didn’t see it, but from what the forensics team said, it was weird. Like he’d burned from the inside out, and the fire had barely touched anything else. Don’t see how anyone could do that, even if they were angry.’

‘Well she was certainly that. But you’re right. The way he died, Whitaker. That doesn’t square with vengeful wife. She’d have stabbed him in the bath or poisoned his food or something. What happened to him is too . . .’

‘Complicated?’ Blane offered.

‘I was going to say bizarre, but that too.’

Janie stared out the side window at the passing tenements as they sped their quiet, electric way around the Cameron Toll roundabout and on to Dalkeith Road. She could see things getting more and more complicated with each new revelation.

‘I’ll run a proper background on Whitaker soon as we get back to the station.’

‘Aye, Lofty. You said. Don’t fret about it. Mistakes get made.’

Crammed in behind the wheel, the detective constable already looked uncomfortable, but Janie thought she saw an added level. Something more than physical was paining Blane. ‘What’s up, Lofty? You’ve been acting weird for weeks now.’

‘It’s nothing. Tired, I guess. Meg’s overdue already but she’s been nippy sweetie for months now. Sooner the wee one’s born the better . . .’ He tailed off, clearly as uncomfortable talking about it as he was squashed into a space designed for someone a foot shorter than him.

‘Oh God, Lofty. I’m sorry. I’d forgotten. Is she very late?’

‘Coming up on a fortnight. They’re going to induce her if she doesn’t start soon. I was told it got difficult once the wain was born, but see these past few months . . .’

‘You’ll be away on the paternity soon, then?’ Janie voiced it as a question, even though she knew the answer.

Blane shrugged, causing the car to swerve dangerously towards the oncoming traffic before he pulled it back into the right lane. ‘Thought about putting it off, given how short-staffed we are. But there’s some new DCs arrived now so I don’t feel so bad.’

‘Just have to hope they shape up. Who knows? We might even get a new DCI too. Place could be awash wi’ detectives.’ Janie stared at the lines of squad cars as they pulled into the station car park, noticed DI McLean’s black Alfa Romeo squeezed in between two armoured Transits. Brave or foolhardy, she couldn’t really decide. ‘Seriously though, Lofty. Is it any surprise we make mistakes like that, given how few of us have been here to do the work? Anyone calls you out for missing that Whitaker was out on bail and on the register? You let me know and I’ll give them a piece of my mind.’

17

Gary sits at the front of the room, impressed by the number of people who have come to see Tommy Fielding speak. There must be over a hundred, maybe more. He’s surprised to see a few women in the crowd too. Why would they want to come along to this? Are they press? And why would Tommy let them listen to him? Surely they’re the enemy.

‘Take Jim here.’

Mr Fielding’s standing behind a modern glass lectern, and he points with an open hand towards a man sitting not far from Gary. Jim shuffles nervously in his seat, clearly unhappy at being picked out from the crowd.

‘Jim was happily married for eleven years. He’s got two kids, Fiona and Esme. Twins, but not identical, is that right?’ Fielding waits for the man to nod before continuing. ‘Jim thought everything was fine in his life. Good job, beautiful wife, kids doing well at one of the top schools in the city. Then he comes home one day and the house is empty. Well, I say empty. There was a letter on the kitchen counter, from his wife, telling him she wanted a divorce and had taken Fiona and Esme away.’

A murmur of outrage ripples around the room, people shifting in their seats as the terrible tale begins to unfold. Gary takes another look at unhappy Jim.