towards the file with an upturned palm, but didn’t get out of his chair. ‘If it’s no’ safe with the polis, then where is it safe, eh?’
McLean picked up the file and handed it to the constable.
‘Well, thank you for your co-operation, Mr McAllister. I’ll make sure you get this back as soon as possible.’
He made to leave, and only then did McAllister stand. ‘Inspector?’
‘Mr McAllister?’
‘You wouldn’t know when we can get back onto the site now, would you? Only we’ve had enough delays with the project as it is. It’s costing me money every day now, and we can’t do anything.’
‘I’ll have a word with the forensic people. See what we can do. It shouldn’t be more than a day or two more, I’m sure.’
Outside, McLean climbed into the passenger seat of the pool car, letting the constable drive. He didn’t say anything until they were on the road.
‘He’s lying, you know.’
‘McAllister?’
‘No. Well, yes. He’s a property developer and they’re always hiding something. But right now he just wants to get his building site back. No, the foreman. Donnie Murdo. He might have been in the cellar last night, but he wasn’t working. Not hefting a hammer anyway. His hands were way too soft. Don’t reckon he’s done any hard graft in years.’
‘So someone else uncovered the body. Who?’
‘I don’t know. And it’s probably not relevant to the murder, either.’ McLean popped open the folder and started to leaf through the random jumble of legal papers and letters. ‘But I intend to find out.’
‘Don’t you ever switch on your bloody mobile?’ A fat vein pulsed at Chief Inspector Duguid’s right temple; never a good sign. McLean fished in his jacket pocket, dug out his phone and flipped it open. The screen was blank; pressing the power button elicited no better response.
‘Battery’s gone again. That’s the third this month.’
‘Well, you’re an inspector now. You’ve got your own budget. So get yourself a new phone. Preferably one that works. You might even consider an airwave set.’
McLean shoved the offending article back into his pocket, then handed the folder to Constable Kydd, the PC who had accompanied him to McAllister’s building yard and who now looked like she wanted to escape before she was dragged into an argument between two senior officers.
‘Can you take that to DC MacBride. And tell him not to lose it. I don’t want to end up beholden to Tommy McAllister in any way.’
‘Who’s McAllister? Another one of your dodgy informants?’ Duguid looked past McLean’s shoulder at the retreating constable, no doubt wondering why she wasn’t working on his investigation.
‘He owns the house where they found the young woman’s body.’
‘Ah, yes. Your ancient ritual sacrifice. I’d heard. Wellthat should be right up your street, I guess. Rich folk and their unseemly perversions.’
McLean ignored the jibe. He’d heard worse.
‘What did you want to see me about, sir?’
‘This Smythe case. You’ve spoken with Jayne, I understand, so you know how important it is that we get a result, and fast.’
McLean nodded, noting Duguid’s casual use of the chief superintendent’s first name.
‘Well, the post-mortem’s in half an hour and I want you there. I want you to keep on top of all the forensic information as it comes in; attack the problem from that direction. I’ll be interviewing the staff, trying to find out who might have had a grudge against someone like Smythe.’
It made sense to split the investigation up that way. McLean was resigned to the fact that he was going to have to work with Duguid, and decided it would probably be best to try and get off on the right foot.
‘Look, sir. About the other night. I’m sorry I stuck my nose in; it was out of line, I know. This is your investigation.’
‘It’s not a competition, McLean. A man’s dead and his killer’s walking the streets. That’s the only thing that’s
McLean picked up the file and handed it to the constable.
‘Well, thank you for your co-operation, Mr McAllister. I’ll make sure you get this back as soon as possible.’
He made to leave, and only then did McAllister stand. ‘Inspector?’
‘Mr McAllister?’
‘You wouldn’t know when we can get back onto the site now, would you? Only we’ve had enough delays with the project as it is. It’s costing me money every day now, and we can’t do anything.’
‘I’ll have a word with the forensic people. See what we can do. It shouldn’t be more than a day or two more, I’m sure.’
Outside, McLean climbed into the passenger seat of the pool car, letting the constable drive. He didn’t say anything until they were on the road.
‘He’s lying, you know.’
‘McAllister?’
‘No. Well, yes. He’s a property developer and they’re always hiding something. But right now he just wants to get his building site back. No, the foreman. Donnie Murdo. He might have been in the cellar last night, but he wasn’t working. Not hefting a hammer anyway. His hands were way too soft. Don’t reckon he’s done any hard graft in years.’
‘So someone else uncovered the body. Who?’
‘I don’t know. And it’s probably not relevant to the murder, either.’ McLean popped open the folder and started to leaf through the random jumble of legal papers and letters. ‘But I intend to find out.’
‘Don’t you ever switch on your bloody mobile?’ A fat vein pulsed at Chief Inspector Duguid’s right temple; never a good sign. McLean fished in his jacket pocket, dug out his phone and flipped it open. The screen was blank; pressing the power button elicited no better response.
‘Battery’s gone again. That’s the third this month.’
‘Well, you’re an inspector now. You’ve got your own budget. So get yourself a new phone. Preferably one that works. You might even consider an airwave set.’
McLean shoved the offending article back into his pocket, then handed the folder to Constable Kydd, the PC who had accompanied him to McAllister’s building yard and who now looked like she wanted to escape before she was dragged into an argument between two senior officers.
‘Can you take that to DC MacBride. And tell him not to lose it. I don’t want to end up beholden to Tommy McAllister in any way.’
‘Who’s McAllister? Another one of your dodgy informants?’ Duguid looked past McLean’s shoulder at the retreating constable, no doubt wondering why she wasn’t working on his investigation.
‘He owns the house where they found the young woman’s body.’
‘Ah, yes. Your ancient ritual sacrifice. I’d heard. Wellthat should be right up your street, I guess. Rich folk and their unseemly perversions.’
McLean ignored the jibe. He’d heard worse.
‘What did you want to see me about, sir?’
‘This Smythe case. You’ve spoken with Jayne, I understand, so you know how important it is that we get a result, and fast.’
McLean nodded, noting Duguid’s casual use of the chief superintendent’s first name.
‘Well, the post-mortem’s in half an hour and I want you there. I want you to keep on top of all the forensic information as it comes in; attack the problem from that direction. I’ll be interviewing the staff, trying to find out who might have had a grudge against someone like Smythe.’
It made sense to split the investigation up that way. McLean was resigned to the fact that he was going to have to work with Duguid, and decided it would probably be best to try and get off on the right foot.
‘Look, sir. About the other night. I’m sorry I stuck my nose in; it was out of line, I know. This is your investigation.’
‘It’s not a competition, McLean. A man’s dead and his killer’s walking the streets. That’s the only thing that’s
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