Funeral Note by Quintin Jardine

Author:Quintin Jardine [Jardine, Quintin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9780755357055
Publisher: Headline
Published: 2012-05-23T14:00:00+00:00

Detective Sergeant Lisa McDermid

When George asked me his question, last thing on a Thursday afternoon, I seized the wrong end of the stick and grasped it hard. He’d asked me to come into his room at Dalkeith, and that was unusual. He’s not the sort of man who keeps secrets within the office. Anything operational is always discussed openly; anything private is usually a telling off, quietly, because he isn’t the sort of man who’s given to raising his voice to junior colleagues.

No, I’d better qualify that: he isn’t now. I have no idea what he was like before his son was murdered. Maybe he was your stereotypical twentieth-century macho male cop before that, like our celebrated chief constable, a man I avoid at all costs, because there’s something ferociously arrogant about him that I just cannot stand. (By the way, I’d avoided him successfully for most of my career, since I’ve always been ‘other ranks’ material and unlikely to drift into his orbit, or even show up in the distance on his radar.)

Actually, I could have understood it if my boss had become a Skinner clone, if George junior’s pathetic death had turned him into a shouting, quick-tempered, rage-filled bully, ready to take out his loss on anyone who crossed him, colleague or client.

But that’s not him. He’s a quiet respectful man, who seems to take pride only in his work and in his immaculate appearance. I cannot imagine George Regan ever slobbing around in a vest and jeans with a Sunday morning hangover, or ever being a month past his due date for a haircut. This may be fantasy on my part, but to me, it’s as if he dresses to impress someone who isn’t here any more.

So when quiet DI George invited me into his room after he came back from some away trip or other, with no hint of what he wanted to talk to me about, my mind sifted through the possibilities. There were only two that I could see, and I dismissed the first one out of hand. We’re an excellent team, he and I, and we have a good record of success. There has been nothing of late that I’ve screwed up, nothing that I’ve done without his knowledge and approval; so I crossed off ‘bollocking’ on my short list.

That left personal. George rarely speaks of his home life, and I never ask, but I know that it isn’t happy. There was one time, a few months ago, when I thought that he was working up to unburdening himself to me, and possibly angling to take it further than that. I headed him off, politely, and as gently as I could. My guess had been spot on, but he took it well, and I came to believe that it had strengthened our relationship rather than weakening it.

Still, as he closed the door behind him, that was all I could think of, and I decided to deal with it in the same way, full on.

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