Natural Causes by James Oswald Read Free Book Online Page B

McIntyre from when she had been an ambitious sergeant on a fast track up the promotion ladder. Even back then she’d made time for those beneath her in the hierarchy. She didn’t socialise much with her peer group, preferred to hobnob with the inspectors and the chief constable, but if you needed her help, she’d give it. Always wise not to piss people off on your way up, in case you met them again on your way down. Somehow McLean didn’t think that would be a problem in McIntyre’s case, both because she was almost universally respected and because she was heading for the very top. She was only eight years his senior, and yet here she was, chief superintendent, running the station. There waslittle doubt that she would take the deputy chief constable’s job when he retired in eighteen months’ time. She understood the politics, knew how to impress the important people without laying on the bullshit. That was maybe her greatest skill, and McLean didn’t begrudge her the success it had brought. He just wished he could keep under her radar.
    ‘Ah, Tony. Thanks for popping in.’ McIntyre stood as McLean knocked on the open door. That was a bad sign already. She walked around her desk, holding out a hand to be shaken. She was short, perhaps only just the minimum height for an officer. With her long brown hair tied back in an aggressive bun, he could see streaks of grey beginning to show around her temples. The foundation around her eyes couldn’t hide the lines when she smiled.
    ‘Sorry I didn’t come earlier, I had a bit of a rough night.’
    ‘Never mind. Have a seat.’ She motioned towards one of two armchairs set in the corner of the spacious office, then settled into the other one herself.
    ‘Chief Inspector Duguid spoke to me this morning. He tells me you were sniffing around the Barnaby Smythe scene the other night.’
    So that was what it was about. A terrible thing, professional jealousy. ‘I was in the neighbourhood, I saw that something was up and thought I might be able to help. I grew up around there, I know some of the local residents. DCI Duguid invited me in to see the crime scene.’
    McIntyre nodded her head as McLean spoke, her eyes never leaving his face. He always felt with her like he was a naughty schoolboy being hauled up in front of the headmistress.Without warning, she stood up and walked across the room to a low wooden sideboard with a percolator on it.
    ‘Coffee?’ McLean nodded. McIntyre busied herself with measuring ground coffee from a Kilner jar into the filter, pouring in the exact amount of water required for two cups, and clicking the machine on.
    ‘Barnaby Smythe was a very important man in the city, Tony. His murder’s caused a lot of anxiety at high levels. Questions are being raised in Holyrood. Pressure is being brought to bear. We need to get a result on this one, and we need it fast.’
    ‘I’m sure DCI Duguid will be very thorough. I see he’s got a substantial team helping him with the investigation already.’
    ‘It’s not enough. I need my best detectives on this case, and I need them to co-operate with each other.’ Thin brown liquid began to drip from the percolator into the glass jug beneath.
    ‘You want me on the investigation?’
    McIntyre walked back to her desk and picked up a manila folder, opening it on the table in front of him. There were a couple of dozen large colour photographs inside, taken in Barnaby Smythe’s library. Close-ups showed his opened chest; his staring dead eyes and blood-stained chin; his hands resting on the arms of the chair; his entrails pooled up in his lap. McLean was glad he’d not yet eaten.
    ‘I saw all this already,’ he said as McIntyre poured two mugs of coffee and brought them over, settling herself back down in her armchair.
    ‘He was eighty-four years old. Over the course of his life, Barnaby Smythe contributed more to this city than anyone I can think of, and yet someone did that to an old man. I need you to