Private Investigations Read Free Page B

car?’ The boy was rattled; I doubted that he’d ever been near a body in his brief service.
    ‘I didn’t put her there, son,’ I told him quietly, then turned to Sergeant Lemmon, who was standing beside me by that time, looking into the boot of the BMW. ‘No fuss, Jack,’ I murmured, ‘but you need to report a suspicious death, and ask for urgent CID attendance. There are paramedics on their way here, but they’ll be no use for this. Skip the medical examiner and ask for a pathologist, pronto. Also, you’ll need a full crime scene team. More uniforms as well to secure this area.’
    I was telling him stuff he knew already, but I couldn’t help it. I was back in my old world, in full senior investigating officer mode.
    He tore his eyes away from the chid. ‘Yes, sir,’ he said, then looked at his sidekick. ‘PC Hoare, get something to cover the poor wee lass up.’
    I countermanded him. ‘Sorry, Jack. He can’t do that. Nothing can be touched here till the CSIs say so. You know that.’
    ‘Ah suppose,’ Lemmon conceded, then began to speak into his radio, doing as I had told him.
    ‘Will you stand back from the scene too, sir, please.’ PC Hoare felt the need to show a little personal authority.
    ‘No,’ I replied, abruptly. ‘I’ve already contaminated it.’ I turned and looked into the Mini. The redhead stared out at me, her eyes full of questions. The elderly driver looked even more shaken than before, if that was possible; I began to worry about her well-being, and wonder where the paramedics were.
    They arrived a few seconds later. ‘Tell them to attend to the old lady there,’ I instructed the constable. I felt sorry for him; I was in his boots once, thirty-something years ago, a first-timer at a death scene.
    He frowned at me. ‘But what about the wee girl? Should they not look at her first?’
    ‘The child is dead, son,’ I said, in little more than a whisper. He flinched, and a look of distress crossed his face. A good sign , I thought. It isn’t second nature to him yet, and hopefully it never will be .
    I stood guard over what was in effect an open coffin, my back to it because I wasn’t brave enough to face the accusation in the little lass’s eyes.
    You let me down , they were saying. You were supposed to protect me, all of you, not lead me here .
    I may not have been looking at her, but nonetheless I could hear those words in my head, and the voice that spoke them was that of my Seonaid.
    A few passers-by stopped, curiosity getting the better of them, gazing at me and at the two paramedics as they took the old lady from her battered car and eased her into a wheelchair. One of the pair, a large woman with dark hair and heavy-framed spectacles, spoke to Jack Lemmon, and her message carried to me.
    ‘We’re taking her to A and E,’ she announced. ‘She’s not responding to our questions, and she’s not moving properly. It might just be shock, but there’s a possibility of a wee stroke. Her keys are in the car if you need to shift it.’
    As the sergeant nodded assent, I caught a movement out of the corner of my eye, a couple of youngsters, teenage boys who looked as if they had taken a break from a busy morning’s shoplifting, were approaching.
    ‘What’s up, mister?’ one of them called to me. ‘Did you bash her motor?’
    ‘Move on, lads,’ I said.
    ‘Free country, pal,’ the other, a hulking, dull-eyed youth, retorted.
    ‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ I growled. ‘On your way, now.’
    ‘Fuck you,’ the kid sneered. ‘What’s in the boot? Gaun, let’s see.’
    Too stupid to read the warning in my glare, the pair closed in on me, one from either side. I was ready to restrain them, bigger one first as always, but it didn’t come to that, for PC Jules Hoare manned up and stepped between us.
    ‘Do what you’re told, or I’ll arrest you both.’ His uniform had more effect than my suit. The kids stopped, backing off a little.
    ‘Ye cannae,’ one of them