‘So what have we got?’ Helena Grant watched wearily as McKay prowled slowly round her office. Even after all these years, she still hadn’t decided whether his habitual restlessness was an act or an involuntary habit. She’d gradually trained herself to ignore it. McKay liked nothing more than to provoke a reaction, and she tried hard to deny him that pleasure. ‘Jacquie come up with the goods then?’
Jacquie ‘Doc’ Green was the pathologist who worked most closely with the police locally. She was well-respected and generally well-liked, as well as being one of Grant’s closest friends.
‘Some of them, anyway.’ McKay halted for a moment by the window, peering out into the darkness of the late afternoon as if seeking some external sign. ‘Fair play to her, she’s pulled out all the stops to get us something before the whole world grinds to its annual Christmas stop.’ He paused. ‘Except for us, obviously. We keep buggering on.’
‘If you say so, Alec. So what is it she’s got for us?’
‘Not a lot, but that’s not really her fault.’
‘I’m more inclined to blame whoever stuck the body in that bloody great bonfire,’ Grant said.
‘I assume that was the intention. If they hadn’t managed to pull the body at least a little way clear of the flames at the end, we’d have had nothing but a set of badly charred bones.’
‘And as it is?’
‘Not much more than that, to be honest. But a fair bit of the flesh hadn’t been entirely barbecued. So we can be certain that the victim was white. Doc confirmed Jock’s suspicion that the fire was almost certainly the cause of death.’
‘I’d hoped that idea was just a product of Jock’s fevered imagination.’
‘Not sure even Jock’s imagination is quite that fevered. She thinks Jock’s assessment was spot on. That the victim was heavily restrained, probably sedated at least initially. The only blessing, if you can call it that, is that asphyxiation would probably have got him before the flames. But according to the doc, the twisting of the body suggests he was fully aware of what was happening.’
‘We really need to get the bastard who did this, Alec.’
‘We’ve had a few bastards to deal with,’ McKay agreed, ‘but this one beats them all. There’s one other thing. Looks as if the victim was middle-aged. Doc reckoned that the state of the bones suggested someone in their thirties or forties.’
‘So not some young gang-war type?’
‘Not some spotty teenager, anyway.’
‘What about DNA?’
‘We’ve got samples which we’ve had checked against the database – that was another favour I had to call in – but nothing.’
‘So not a villain?’
‘Not one we’ve caught and convicted, anyway,’ McKay said, ‘but I’m guessing that doesn’t cover them all.’
‘Doesn’t get us very far, though.’
‘Not unless we find some other match, no. We’ve had a look at missing persons in the appropriate age group. One or two possible candidates nationally, but no one local. We’re looking into all the possibles, but none of them looks like a strong candidate. No one who seems likely to have ended up in the middle of a bonfire.’ He shrugged. ‘Though I suppose looks can be deceiving.’
‘No one would ever guess you were a pussycat with a heart of gold, Alec.’
‘Which proves my point. Anyway, we don’t have a lot else. One of the hands was relatively undamaged, and Doc reckoned there might be a possibility of a partial fingerprint, but I’m not building my hopes up. There were a few scraps of clothing left which might offer us some forensic insights, but again I’m not optimistic.’
‘What about reconstructing the likeness of the face from the skull? Aren’t we supposed to be able to do that kind of stuff with computers these days?’
‘They can do anything with computers these days,’ McKay said. ‘If we’ve got the money for it. And the time. I don’t imagine that would be the easiest thing to organise over Christmas. Anyway, they never look like real people. Not even people from round here.’
‘So what next?’
‘Doc’s noted the state of the teeth. Fortunately, our man still had most of them, with only a couple missing at the rear of the mouth. A couple of fillings. So dental records might be an option, but that’s not going to be an easy task over Christmas.’
‘Nothing’s going to be an easy task over Christmas.’ Grant sighed. ‘What’s the plan on that?’
‘We’re going to continue everything we can with those who are willing to work, as long as you’re willing to sign off the overtime bill. But it’ll limit the house-to-house stuff. I’m planning to take Christmas Day off, just to reduce the chances of Chrissie ritually disembowelling me but I’ll be in contact if anything breaks. Ginny’s formally on call too. I don’t want to lose momentum, but there’s not much else we can do.’
Grant nodded. ‘I was hoping to take a couple of days off this year for once.’ As a widow without children, Grant had been happy to work through the last few Christmases, allowing others the time off.
‘Don’t see why you shouldn’t,’ McKay said. ‘It’s not like you contribute much anyway.’ He held up his hand. ‘Joke. Seriously, you deserve it. Like you say, you’ve done your bit for the last few years. If need be, I’ll come in.’
‘I sometimes wonder who’s actually in charge here.’ Grant smiled. ‘But, thanks, Alec. That’s appreciated.’
McKay finally ceased pacing and lowered himself into the chair opposite Grant’s desk. ‘Any particular plans?’
‘Plans?’
‘For Christmas. Just wondered if you had any particular reason for taking the time off this year?’
‘Ah. So that’s the reason you were being so gracious. You’re just after the gossip.’
‘Never crossed my mind.’ McKay paused. ‘So is there gossip?’
‘I imagine there’s plenty round the office. For what it’s worth, and if you must know, I’ve been invited to spend Christmas with Bill.’
‘Emsworth? Well, that’s nice. I hope it proves very enjoyable.’ McKay’s expression suggested he was genuinely pleased to hear the news.
Probably he was, Grant thought. They’d known each other a long time and, for all their bantering, were genuinely fond of one another. There’d been a couple of moments over the years – particularly when McKay had briefly separated from Chrissie – when she’d wondered whether that fondness might blossom into something more serious. But McKay was happily back with Chrissie, and for the last year or more Grant had been seeking a way of restarting her life.
‘And if you’re wondering,’ she added after a moment, ‘yes, Bill and I are in what I believe people call a relationship.’
McKay looked surprised. Less at the news itself, she suspected, than at the fact that she’d volunteered the information. Maybe that had been a mistake, but speculation was no doubt already rife among the team so it was probably better to be open. There was no surer way of disseminating the news efficiently around the office than telling Alec McKay. He could be discreet enough when it suited him, but mostly it didn’t.
‘That’s good to hear,’ McKay said. ‘Seriously. I’m very pleased for you.’
‘It’s early days so I’m not investing all my hopes in it, but we get on well and he’s a nice guy. He knows about stuff that’s new to me.’
‘That so?’ McKay raised an eyebrow.
‘Books and films and plays, Alec. Culture. You wouldn’t understand.’
‘Aye, we didn’t have any culture in Dundee when I was a bairn. We couldn’t afford it. Maybe he’ll open up new vistas for you.’
‘Only you could make that sound like an innuendo. Anyway, that’s the story. A quiet Christmas at Bill’s. Just the two of us.’
‘Very cosy.’
‘We’re both in the same boat. Bill’s divorced. His parents are both dead, and he doesn’t really have any other close relatives. He’s generally headed for a holiday overseas at Christmas, but this year we thought we’d spend it at home. His home, to be specific.’
‘Sounds idyllic,’ McKay said, with apparent sincerity. ‘There’s even some snow forecast, so you might get a white Christmas. And if it doesn’t work out, you can always tell him you’ve got a murder enquiry to be getting back to.’
‘You really know how to set the mood, Alec. But you’re right. We’ve a murder enquiry to be getting on with, so let’s get on with it, shall we?’