We’ve not exactly been public about the body, but someone knew we’d found it

Natural Causes by Fife farmer-turned-author James Oswald is the first in the Inspector Mclean series. It is published by Penguin, rrp, £7.99. Bury Them Deep, the latest in the series, is published by Headline in February, rrp £14.99.

Mclean agreed. “Makes sense, I guess. How many bodies came in last night?” “Let me check.” Tracy turned to her computer, then paused. “Is it OK to use this?” Mclean grabbed a passing SOC officer and asked the same question. “Dusted it for prints, but it’s unlikely we’ll get anything off it.

“There’s none on the security keypad, and nothing on the chiller doors. My guess is whoever did this was wearing gloves.”

“Go ahead then,” Mclean nodded to Tracy. She clicked a few keys.

“We had your suicide logged in at half-past one. A suspected heart-attack victim came in at eight. Yes, I remember them bringing him in.

“Nothing else after that. Must have been a quiet night.”

“And the night desk can confirm that?”

“I’ll ask.” Tracy picked up the phone without asking a SOC officer if that was all right.

She spoke briefly, scribbling down a number, then hung up and dialled it. Silence for a long while.

Then finally: “Pete? Hi, it’s Trace at work. Yeah, I’m sorry, I know you’re on nights. We’ve had a break-in though. Police all over the place.

“No, I’m not joking. They’re going to want to talk to you. Look, did you process any bodies after Mr Lentin came in yesterday evening?”

Pause. “What? You’re sure? OK. OK. Thanks.” She put down the phone.

“An ambulance came in at two this morning. Pete swears he logged it in, but there’s nothing on the system.”

“That would be the system you found switched on when you came in yourself?”

Mclean had to admire the thoroughness of the thief. It was a professional job from top to bottom.

But why would anyone want to steal a 60 years dead corpse they still hadn’t been able to identify?

Reluctant

“You were right, you know.”

“I was? What about?” Mclean stood in the doorway of Chief Superintendent Mcintyre’s office.

It was famously always open, but he was reluctant to commit himself.

Her weary, resigned sigh at seeing him there had been enough to know he was pushing his luck.

“Mcreadie. He wasn’t due in for interview for another day, but his lawyer phoned up and persuaded Charles to move him up the schedule. That’s why he was in here when Constable Kydd was run down.

“It won’t do him any good. He’s on his way to Saughton right now.”

That wouldn’t be much solace for poor Alison. “I phoned the hospital.”

“Me too, Tony. No change, I know. She’s a tough kid, but they almost lost her on the operating table.

“I don’t need to tell you how slim her chances are. Or how much of a life she’s going to have even if she does pull through.”

Mclean watched as Mcintyre rubbed a tired palm against her face. Let her get to the point in her own time.

“Now what exactly are you doing here. You’re meant to be on leave.”

He told her about the missing body.

“We know that Bertie Farquhar was one of the killers, but I think at least one of the others is still alive.”

“You think they took it?”

“At least arranged for it to be taken. Farquhar would have been in his nineties if he hadn’t crashed his car.

Influence

“I’m guessing anyone else involved would have been much the same age.

“Not exactly the type of people to go breaking into the city mortuary.”

“More likely they’d be wheeled in.” Mcintyre tried to raise a smile without much success.

“Whoever it is, they’ve got influence. Or money. Both, really.

“We’ve not exactly been public about the body, but someone knew we’d found it, and where we were keeping it.

“I’m guessing they’re trying to cover their tracks.” “You do know I said Monday. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know. But I can’t leave this to DS Laird. Not with everything else he’s got going on.

“And I’ll go mad if I have to sit at home knowing the killer’s out there erasing every last shred of evidence we have.”

The chief superintendent said nothing for a while, leaned back in her chair and stared at him. Mclean let her have as much time as she needed. “What are you going to do?” she asked finally. “I’m trying to trace Bertie Farquhar’s friends.

Constable Macbride’s already gone through the archives, and we’ve asked for his war record.

“I was going to see if Emily Johnson’s come up with anything else.

“She was going to have a search through the attic for any of Farquhar’s old photo albums or stuff.”

“Why do I get the feeling you’d have been paying Miss Johnson a visit today anyway?”

Mcintyre waved away Mclean’s protestation of innocence.

“Go, Tony. Find your missing dead girl and her geriatric murderer.

“But stay away from Mcreadie. I hear you’ve been anywhere near him and it’ll be Professional Standards, you understand?”

Endless

Grumpy Bob looked perfectly happy as he perched on the edge of an elderly, hair-covered sofa.

The Dandie Dinmonts were locked away in the kitchen, he had tea and he had biscuits.

At this time of the day, Mclean knew, the sergeant could want for little more.

Emily Johnson had welcomed them in, announcing that she’d been up in the attic going through old trunks of stuff.

Now they were all in the living room, flicking through endless black and white photos.

“I think I might have to get a professional valuer in,” she said.

“There’s so much stuff up there just mouldering away.

“I thought maybe I’d have a charity auction. Give everything to the sick kids.

“It’s not as if I need the money, and none of it has any sentimental value.”

Mclean thought about his own situation, suddenly awash with old family heirlooms he had no great liking for and no desire to keep.

Maybe that was the way to go; auction it all and use the proceeds to set up some charitable fund.

“I’d be grateful if you’d give us time to go through Albert’s things before you start disposing of them, Mrs Johnson.”

The last thing he wanted was to lose any useful evidence to the auction room.

“Don’t worry about that, inspector. It’ll take me years to get anything organised. Oh. I found this by the way.”

More tomorrow.