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

upstart woman who was probably a lesbian anyway. There had been some other comments that wouldn’t have seemed out of place in a small-town rugby club locker room after a home defeat, peppered with enough foul language to make even Jo Dalgliesh blush. It was hard to imagine the man standing up in court and impressing both judge and jury, but then the best briefs were consummate actors after all.

‘Mr Fielding?’ McLean approached before the lawyer could begin another call. Fielding looked up, a frown of irritation disappearing swiftly from his face.

‘Ah, Detective Chief Inspector McLean.’ He stood up, presenting a hand to be shaken. Fielding’s grip was firm but damp, and he wore an expensive suit that he somehow managed to make look cheap.

‘It’s just Detective Inspector now, remember?’ He resisted the urge to wipe his hand on his trousers. ‘You got the message I was coming, then.’

‘An explanation as to why no charges are being pressed against the harridans who broke into my seminar and threatened my guests? I am eager to hear it, Detective Inspector.’

Fielding had made no indication that they should sit, and McLean was quite content to remain standing. If nothing else it should make the meeting short. ‘You know how it is, Mr Fielding. Everywhere there’s cutbacks. Too many demands on too few resources.’

‘Are you suggesting these women get away with it simply because you can’t be bothered sorting out your budgets?’ Fielding put heavy emphasis on the word ‘women’, managing somehow to convey that he had utter disdain for them. But then McLean already knew that.

‘Far from it. We take our duty towards protecting the people very seriously indeed. However, our investigations have discovered that the hotel entrance through which the women . . .’ and here McLean put his own, subtly different emphasis ‘. . . came was not locked, and indeed was a public entrance to the building, albeit from the rear.’

Fielding’s frown returned. ‘They burst into my meeting room, screaming obscenities and threatening us.’

‘So I’m told. However, I wasn’t there to witness it, and apart from yourself nobody else has agreed to come forward and corroborate your story. My team had some difficulty in tracking down a list of the . . . what was it you called them? Oh yes, the guests. And those they did manage to speak to gave rather conflicting accounts of the events. The women themselves of course deny doing anything worse than stumbling into the wrong room when they were looking for the bar.’

Tiny beads of sweat had begun to form on Fielding’s forehead now, and his skin had taken on that hue more normally associated with Glasgow lads after the first sunny day of spring. When he spoke, McLean was glad of the space between them as flecks of spittle almost covered the distance before falling to the floor like slimy rain. ‘This is preposterous. You can’t be suggesting I made the whole thing up? These women have been camped outside this hotel for weeks, screaming at anyone who comes inside, waving around banners with claims on them that are defamatory at best.’

McLean let the slightest hint of a smile show. ‘It’s not that I don’t believe you, Mr Fielding. Quite the opposite. But you’re a man of the law. You understand how these things work. We could press charges, send these women to the Sheriff Court, but you and I both know what the outcome of that would be.’

‘So you just, what? Let them go?’ This time one fleck reached McLean’s lapel, but he ignored it. The suit was due a clean anyway.

‘Not at all, Mr Fielding. As you’ve no doubt noticed, the demonstrations have stopped. All the women involved have been officially cautioned. We have their details on file should they breach the peace again. If we had sufficient evidence, you can rest assured that we would have pressed charges. We can’t have women bursting into private meetings and trying to disrupt them, can we?’

Fielding’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. McLean was trying hard not to wind the lawyer up, given the warning he’d received from McIntyre. It wasn’t easy though. There was something about the man, his haughty, puffed-up nature, that begged to be poked. Harrison certainly had the measure of him.

‘Indeed not, Detective Inspector. They should know their place. And you can rest assured, I’m not happy with the situation even if I do understand your reasoning. I will be mentioning it to the chief constable the next time I see him.’

On the golf course at the weekend, no doubt. McLean inclined his head slightly to indicate he thought this reasonable. ‘I’ll let the new chief superintendent know too. I believe you know her? Gail Elmwood?’

Had he not been trained in interviewing suspects, with more than two decades of experience behind that training, McLean might have missed the almost imperceptible flicker that crossed Fielding’s eyes at the name, the tiniest moment of utter stillness as the thoughts tumbled through his sharp, lawyer’s brain. It was there though, plain as day if you knew what to look for. And if you’d set up the trigger on purpose.

‘Well, I’ll not waste any more of your precious time, Mr Fielding,’ he said, before the lawyer could respond. ‘Pleasure to meet you again.’

‘Detective Inspector McLean, sir?’

McLean stopped mid-stride as he was heading for the door, turned to see the receptionist he’d spoken to earlier. She had one hand raised to catch his attention, in case her shout had been insufficient. He changed course and went to see what she wanted.

‘Sorry to shout like that, sir. I wasn’t sure when you would be finished with Mr Fielding, and I didn’t want to miss you.’

‘No problem, Ms . . .’ He squinted to see the name on the badge pinned to her chest. ‘Elaine?’

‘You were asking about the CCTV footage from the lobby here. I spoke to Colin in security and he pulled it all on to a memory stick. It’s all digital these days, amazing what they can do.’ She held out her hand, and McLean saw