The boss’s expression directed at McNab said even more than the words, alluding, as he suspected they did, to his own demotion from DI to DS in the wake of the Stonewarrior case. He, however, hadn’t left the force, although he’d contemplated it at the time. If DI Wilson hadn’t been his boss, he likely would have.

‘Did he say anything on the phone we should know about?’ McNab said.

‘He asked if the body was that of a girl wearing a confirmation dress.’

11

McNab had reluctantly agreed that Janice should be the driver on their jaunt to see former DI Jimmy McCreadie. It wasn’t that his partner was a bad driver, although she was a mite too cautious for McNab’s liking. It was just that he preferred being the one in charge of the wheel.

He remembered how, before he’d got his own Harley, Ellie, his current biker girlfriend, had suggested a pilgrimage to Netherton Cottage, ancestral home of the Harley-Davidson brothers. Horrified that he wouldn’t be the one in the driver’s seat, McNab had almost turned her down. Which, he recalled, would have probably meant the end of their relationship.

Luckily realizing this at the time, he’d consoled himself with the idea of hugging Ellie for the couple of hours required to head up the A90 to their destination. It was, McNab recalled, one of the best decisions he’d ever made.

However, today’s trip definitely wasn’t in that category, nor was there any consolation prize, except perhaps to avoid getting grief from DS Clark. So rather than dwell on being a reluctant passenger during the said journey, McNab decided to see if Wikipedia had heard of Jimmy McCreadie, and was surprised to find that it had.

The entry opened with McCreadie’s time as a police officer, followed by his service with Special Forces, after which it was all about his current career as the crime thriller writer known as J. D. Smart.

Something the boss had definitely not mentioned.

‘I know that name,’ Janice said, when McNab told her. ‘I’ve read his books. They’re good.’

‘You read crime novels?’ McNab responded, open-mouthed.

Janice nodded, obviously unperturbed by his reaction.

DS Clark often surprised him, despite the length of time they’d worked together, but this was something else entirely. McNab wanted to ask why the fuck a police officer would do such a thing.

‘What?’ Janice said, noting his expression.

‘I thought you would have gone more for fact than fiction, that’s all,’ McNab lied.

‘Fiction is the lie through which we tell the truth,’ Janice informed him.

‘Who the fuck said that?’ McNab demanded.

‘Albert Camus.’

Having heard the name but with no idea to its significance, McNab decided to steer the conversation in a different direction.

‘Well, if McCreadie’s so good at making stuff up, how can we be sure that what he tells us isn’t fiction?’

‘You once told me, despite Professor Pirie’s research on the subject, that a good detective can always spot a lie.’ Janice shot him a glance that reminded McNab of all the times he’d been lax with the truth himself.