arms resting on his desk. The nod was almost imperceptible.
'Aye. Ah wiz there right enough.'
'And what exactly were you doing there?'
'Well, we wiz clearing oot the basement, see. Goin' tae put a gym doon there.'
'We? I thought you said you were alone when you discovered the hidden room.'
'Aye, well, ah wiz. True enough. The lads were helpin oot earlier, like. But ah sent them hame. Ah wiz jest cleanin' up like. Finishin' the job so's they could get started on the plasterin' in the morning.'
'It must have been quite a shock, seeing the body like that.'
'Ah didnae see much, ken. Jest a hand is all. That's when ah called Mr McAllister here.' Donnie inspected his hands, picking at his fingernails, eyes down so as not to have to make contact with anyone in the room.
'Well, thank you Donnie. You've been very helpful.' McLean stood, offering his hand to the foreman, who looked momentarily startled, then took it.
'Is there anything else I can do for you, inspector?' McAllister asked.
'If I could get a copy of the title deeds, it would be useful. I need to try and track down who owned that house when the poor girl was murdered.'
'It's all in there. Take it, please.' McAllister motioned 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. Well that should be right up your street, I guess. Rich folk and their unseemly perversions.'
McLean
'Aye. Ah wiz there right enough.'
'And what exactly were you doing there?'
'Well, we wiz clearing oot the basement, see. Goin' tae put a gym doon there.'
'We? I thought you said you were alone when you discovered the hidden room.'
'Aye, well, ah wiz. True enough. The lads were helpin oot earlier, like. But ah sent them hame. Ah wiz jest cleanin' up like. Finishin' the job so's they could get started on the plasterin' in the morning.'
'It must have been quite a shock, seeing the body like that.'
'Ah didnae see much, ken. Jest a hand is all. That's when ah called Mr McAllister here.' Donnie inspected his hands, picking at his fingernails, eyes down so as not to have to make contact with anyone in the room.
'Well, thank you Donnie. You've been very helpful.' McLean stood, offering his hand to the foreman, who looked momentarily startled, then took it.
'Is there anything else I can do for you, inspector?' McAllister asked.
'If I could get a copy of the title deeds, it would be useful. I need to try and track down who owned that house when the poor girl was murdered.'
'It's all in there. Take it, please.' McAllister motioned 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. Well that should be right up your street, I guess. Rich folk and their unseemly perversions.'
McLean
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