What Will Burn James Oswald (booksvooks txt) 📖

McLean stood in the doorway a moment longer, aware that as yet he’d not been spotted by anyone. Idle curiosity had him scanning the people, looking to see who it was that Tommy Fielding had arranged to meet. It wasn’t important though, and the sight of the chief superintendent and Mrs Saifre laughing at some shared joke reminded him of just how little he wanted to be here. Stepping back into the corridor, he closed the doors and set off in search of a taxi to take him home. Elmwood was a grown woman, a chief superintendent. She could look after herself.

27

The major incident room hummed quietly, but not through any great activity on the part of the team at work. Earlier it had been flies buzzing against the window, but now that it was dark outside they’d given up and the task of making an irritating noise had been handed over to the dying fluorescent lights sunk into the false ceiling. Over in the far corner by the water cooler one was flickering and blinking in a manner that made Janie glad she wasn’t an epileptic. Or particularly susceptible to migraines. It was making her tetchy all the same.

‘Has anyone been on to maintenance about that bloody light?’ she asked as she cut and pasted a chunk of useless information from one window to another, putting together a background report on the man whose dead body she had seen first thing that morning.

Mr Donald Purefoy had not led the most interesting of lives, his only brush with the law a half a dozen speeding tickets spread over just enough time that he never quite lost his licence. He’d been briefly married, two kids, divorced for a couple of years now. Janie had spoken briefly with Katie English, the ex-Mrs Purefoy, who hadn’t exactly been upset by the news. Neither had she seen Purefoy in over a year, since moving to Aberystwyth to lecture at the university. Katie had doubted she’d make the trip up for any funeral, or that the children would even notice the further absence of their father. Yet another sad tale that left Janie wondering why people bothered hitching up in the first place.

Frustrated, it took her a while to notice that nobody had answered her question. True, she hadn’t been expecting anyone to actually do anything about the lights; that was something she’d have to sort out in the morning herself. A non-committal grunt from Jay at the desk opposite might have been nice, though. Only, when she looked up, DC Stringer was nowhere to be seen. Neither was anyone else for that matter. She pulled out the earbuds that didn’t actually block out any noise, but did stop people from bothering her unnecessarily, stood up and glanced around the room. Empty.

‘Where the hell is everyone?’

It struck her as she walked around the unmanned desks that asking such a question in the circumstances was a bit stupid. She pulled out her phone, swiped the screen to see if anyone had messaged her. There was nothing, but the numbers at the top told her it was past shift end. The night shift should have been in by now, though, so that didn’t explain why the room was empty.

Outside, the corridor looked like something from a horror movie. Nobody in sight, another pair of fluorescent lights blinking and buzzing at the far end. Janie was almost spooked, but then a familiar face rounded the corner.

‘You heard the news?’ Constable Amy McKay had come up through training with her, but stuck to uniform when Janie had made the switch to CID. Plain Amy, the other recruits had called her, which was unfair. But then coppers could be cruel.

‘What news?’ A slight shiver of worry ran through her at the possibilities. Something bad enough to empty the incident room, but not bad enough anyone would interrupt her.

‘The Detective Inspector. His car. There’s been a horrible crash up at Tollcross.’

The shiver turned to an icy block in the pit of her stomach. ‘DI McLean?’ she asked, although none of the other DIs would have been described by the car they drove. The car she had, in a roundabout way, helped him buy. ‘Is he OK?’

‘Paramedics are trying to save the driver, but he went through the windscreen. It’s a miracle no pedestrians were hurt.’

Janie’s mind raced. And then something occurred to her. ‘I thought the DI was at that Safe Streets do with the chief superintendent this evening.’ She pulled out her phone and checked the time again. ‘Why would he be driving through Tollcross? You sure it’s his car?’

Amy shook her head, looked at Janie as if she was daft. ‘Someone nicked it, see? Right out of the car park here. Duty sergeant’s spitting blood. Got half the station looking at CCTV and the other half being questioned about what they might have seen.’

‘So he wasn’t driving it, then?’ Janie struggled to keep up.

‘Who?’

‘DI McLean, Amy. He wasn’t driving the car when it crashed? He wasn’t anywhere near it?’

‘Far as I know.’

‘Has anyone told him?’ She didn’t much fancy the task herself.

‘The sergeant’s giving him a call, but you know what he’s like for answering his phone, aye?’

Janie gave her a weak smile. ‘Aye, you’re right enough there. Thanks, Amy.’

She went back to the major incident room, logged into her computer again, and searched for any information on the crash. There wasn’t much logged on the system, but a quick Google search brought up the news fast enough. There was no denying it was the boss’s car, although from what she could see in the shaky camera-phone footage, it wasn’t going to be his car for much longer. Christ, it must have been going at some speed.

Janie picked up her phone, tapped the screen until the number came up, then hovered her thumb over the call icon. It had been instinct to get in touch, but did she need to really? It