The Book of Souls (The Inspector McLean Mysteries) Read Online Free Page B

the grey of her tailored trouser suit. Two scowling men dressed in the dirty green overalls of Aberdeen City Parks Department waited impatiently to one side. No family, of course. Not much of a turn-out for the deceased at all.
    'Yet, O Lord God most holy, O Lord most mighty, O holy and most merciful Saviour, deliver us not into the bitter pains of eternal death.'
    McLean dug his hands deep into the pockets of his heavy overcoat and huddled against the cold that seeped into his bones. Low clouds scudded across the sky, blanking out what little weak afternoon sun could hope to reach this far north. Dreich was the word. It matched his mood.
    'Thou knowest, Lord, the secrets of our hearts; shut not thy merciful ears to our prayer.'
    He tuned out the words, looking around the cemetery. Flowers dotted here and there, even the odd photograph. The headstones glistened wetly, granite grey like the city that spawned them. Just the occasional angel to break the monotony. What the hell was he doing here?
    'Suffer us not, at our last hour, through any pains of death, to fall from thee.'
    The council workers hoisted the heavy coffin up on thick canvas straps, kicking aside the scaffold planks it had been resting on before dropping it clumsily into the hole. No elegant sashes and six young men to lower the bastard to his last resting place. He deserved nothing more than he was getting.
    'In sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life through our Lord Jesus Christ, we commend to Almighty God our brother...' The priest paused, then scrabbled around in his prayer book, coming up with a small scrap of paper. He peered at it myopically before the wind whipped it from his arthritic fingers and away over the graveyard. '...Our brother Donald Anderson and we commit his body to the ground; earth to earth, ashes to ashes, dust to dust.'
    McLean couldn't suppress the smile that slid across his face at the priest's mistake, but it was short-lived. He felt no satisfaction, no closure. Turning away from the scene, he walked to his car. It was a long drive back to Edinburgh; might as well get started. Not like there was going to be a wake or anything.
    'Might I ask what your interest in Anderson is?'
    McLean turned at the voice, seeing the woman with the useless umbrella standing a couple of paces away. She was slightly shorter than him, her face pale and freckled, its elfin shape exaggerated by the way the rain had plastered her short red hair across her scalp.
    'Might I ask yours?'
    'Detective Sergeant Ritchie, Grampian Police.' She fumbled in the large canvas bag slung over one shoulder and pulled out her warrant card. McLean didn't even bother looking at it. He probably should have told Aberdeen Headquarters he was coming, but then they'd have escorted him everywhere, dragged him down the pub to celebrate Anderson's death.
    'McLean,' he said. 'Lothian and Borders.'
    'You're a fair bit off your patch, inspector.' So she knew of him, even if she hadn't recognised his face.
    'I put Anderson away. Just wanted to make sure he was gone for good.'
    'Aye, well. I can understand that.'
    The two uniformed officers trudged past, the collars of their black fleeces turned up, yellow fluorescent jackets pulled tight against the wind. Behind them, the priest looked as if he was going to hang around and say something, then thought better of it. McLean stared back towards the grave where a mini digger was dumping heavy earth onto the coffin. 'How does a piece of shit like Anderson end up being buried in a place like this?'
    'Plot was bought and paid for, apparently. Some solicitor from Edinburgh sorted it all out. Seems Anderson had money. Plots here aren't cheap.'
    'What about the man who killed him?'
    Ritchie didn't answer straight away. McLean didn't know her, couldn't read the expression on her face. She looked young for a DS, boyish even with her short-cropped hair and businesslike suit, but she held his gaze as if to say his seniority didn't