Where the Bodies are Buried by Christopher Brookmyre, Brookmyre Read Free Book Online Page B

The latter was just a young girl, not long in the job. She was trying to look professional
     and composed, and earning pass marks from Catherine, who was sharp enough to recognise the tear-streaks on her face. She’d
     been there herself, once upon a time. You learned to put on your game face, especially as a female officer, hiding your true
     responses, scared that people would think you couldn’t handle it. Then after a while, you no longer felt a response worth
     hiding, and you realised that what you should have been scared of was discovering just how much you
could
handle.
    ‘First cold one?’ Catherine asked her, offering an inviting smile.
    She responded with a shy nod.
    ‘Not exactly vanilla,’ her older colleague added by way of support and explanation. ‘She’s doing fine. I’m PC Jim Keeney,
     by the way. My colleague’s PC Jacqui Malone.’
    ‘I’m Detective Superintendent McLeod. This is DI Geddes. Men in white here yet?’
    ‘Ten minutes ahead of you,’ Keeney reported.
    ‘Who is it? Cal O’Shea?’
    ‘Couldn’t tell you, ma’am.’
    ‘Short guy, looks a bit like a corpse?’
    ‘I’d really rather not—’
    ‘Was he eating?’
    PC Malone nodded, looking queasy at the thought. ‘Mars bar. Don’t know how anyone could.’
    ‘No, me neither, but that’ll be Cal.’
    Catherine saw Bill Raeside approach from further down the lane, silhouetted theatrically against the lights in a tableau of
     dramatic portent that seemed to be straining the bounds of incongruity. Raeside’s presence usually served as a comforting
     reassurance that nothing either dramatic or portentous was going to happen, and that if it ever did, he’d be an incidental
     background detail rather than bathed in light at the centre of the picture.
    She had often heard Raeside referred to as ‘part of the furniture’ in CID, which she took to indicate both his longevity and
     the apparent absence of career momentum. The piece of furniture he made her think of was a slightly careworn but particularly
     comfy old couch. He was a human comfort zone: dependable, predictable and unflappable, a safe pair of hands but not exactly
     the lateral thinker who could make a crucial connection, or the driving force whose infectious enthusiasm could reinvigorate
     a flagging investigation. His easy-going (some would say over-easy-going) nature meant he wasn’t resentful at being overtaken
     on the career ladder, and he never had a problem taking orders from younger officers, male or female. She’d heard it uncharitably
     suggested that he’d be happy taking orders from a nine-year-old as long as it meant he didn’t need to make a decision, but
     from what Catherine could see, he was just a guy who liked doing his job and didn’t want that job to change. Poor soul had
     lost his wife to cancer a couple of years back, and a few people had expected him to take an early retirement package, but
     many that knew him were unsurprised when he stayed on. With his kids having grown up and left home, he had very little else,
     apart from an Alsatian dog named Fritz, to keep him company.
    It was serendipitous that he’d been the first available CID officer on scene, as this was the ideal kind of job for him: no
     initiative required, just calm management of the situation until superior officers took charge.
    ‘Guy from the Chinese takeaway found the body about quarter to one,’ Raeside said, escorting Catherine and Laura along the
     lane on quiet feet, like it was a church and he an usher. They were still twenty yards away, but Catherine thought she could
     feel the heat from the lamps, supplementing what was already a muggy August night.
    ‘He was emptying his bins, getting ready to lock up for the night. Thought it was a jakey dossing down. Turned out it was
     a bigger sleep than that. I was in the area, so I’ve been here since about fifteen minutes after the initial call. I IDed
     the guy right away. That’s why I sent it up the