McCann and Stephanie Reid owed their high cheekbones and blonde hair to Scandinavian forebears, Moira McElvaney was one hundred per cent Irish colleen. Her slightly freckled pale face was topped by a mass of flaming red hair. Her features were completely symmetrical, her nose and ears were perfectly shaped, and she possessed the most sparkling green eyes that Wilson had ever seen. She had a body to match her face, although many would consider her to be on the skinny side. Her smile widened as she entered the snug.
‘Boss,’ she said plonking herself into one of the button-back leather couches. ‘I like the new office arrangements.’
‘I wish.’ Wilson returned her smile.
‘You look worried,’ she said. ‘Secret meeting in your favourite pub so early in the day, I smell trouble.’
‘I think that maybe your nose is in perfect working order,’ he said simply. He waved at the barman. ‘What’ll you drink?’
‘Policewoman on duty,’ she said. ‘Perhaps a cup of peppermint tea is in order.’
Wilson ordered the tea and watched the barman wince. He avoided the man’s eyes by sipping his Guinness.
‘What’s up?’ Moira asked.
‘I’m just back from an autopsy at the Royal Victoria.’
‘That wasn’t part of your agenda for today.’
‘I know but Professor Reid called me in.’
Moira raised her eyes to heaven. ‘She doesn’t give up easy.’ She took the cup and saucer from the barman and stirred her tea before removing the tea bag. Stephanie Reid was not one of Moira’s favourite people. She didn’t like the way that Reid continued to throw herself at Wilson. As far as Moira was concerned, Wilson was spoken for. If not, she might have thrown herself at him, despite the fact that she had a very presentable boyfriend.
They toasted each other silently. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he said. ‘She was called out by accident to a death by asphyxiation. The person in question was David Grant.’
Moira sipped her tea. ‘It’s in the late edition of the morning papers. I don’t know where these people get their information from.’
Wilson could make a very good guess. The police officers and the ambulance crew would be the perfect starting point. He took a USB from his pocket. ‘Take a look at these photos when you get back to the office. Reid took them at the scene. It appears that Grant was into kinky sex. He was dressed in women’s underwear and had hooked himself up to a noose tied to a stair post. It’s what they call erotic asphyxiation. The lack of air is supposed to heighten the sexual experience.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’ She took another sip out of her cup.
‘It’s not something you should try at home. Anyway, Reid wasn’t totally convinced that the death was accidental and she found a few discrepancies in the autopsy.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘I trust Reid’s intuition but if I bring this upstairs there might be a view that I’m trying to instigate a high profile investigation on very flimsy evidence.’
‘Nobody would accuse you of that.’ Moira finished her tea. She’d never pictured Wilson as the paranoid type.
‘I want you to get over to Grant’s house and tape the place up. If there’s any evidence, I don’t want it screwed up. Find Grant’s next of kin and contact them. His body is at the Royal and probably will stay there until the inquest. Reid intends to push for a murder conclusion with the coroner.’
‘What do you think?’
‘Off the top of my head, I think if it was a murder – a very elaborate one. A speeding car might have knocked him down, and that would have been an accident. But we would have looked for the speeding car and the person driving it. This way, we might think that it was either accidental or suicide. There’s nobody to look for.’
‘Look, Boss. I trust your instincts, but you know that the good professor doesn’t overly impress me. I know bugger all about erotic asphyxiation but if someone hooks
‘Boss,’ she said plonking herself into one of the button-back leather couches. ‘I like the new office arrangements.’
‘I wish.’ Wilson returned her smile.
‘You look worried,’ she said. ‘Secret meeting in your favourite pub so early in the day, I smell trouble.’
‘I think that maybe your nose is in perfect working order,’ he said simply. He waved at the barman. ‘What’ll you drink?’
‘Policewoman on duty,’ she said. ‘Perhaps a cup of peppermint tea is in order.’
Wilson ordered the tea and watched the barman wince. He avoided the man’s eyes by sipping his Guinness.
‘What’s up?’ Moira asked.
‘I’m just back from an autopsy at the Royal Victoria.’
‘That wasn’t part of your agenda for today.’
‘I know but Professor Reid called me in.’
Moira raised her eyes to heaven. ‘She doesn’t give up easy.’ She took the cup and saucer from the barman and stirred her tea before removing the tea bag. Stephanie Reid was not one of Moira’s favourite people. She didn’t like the way that Reid continued to throw herself at Wilson. As far as Moira was concerned, Wilson was spoken for. If not, she might have thrown herself at him, despite the fact that she had a very presentable boyfriend.
They toasted each other silently. ‘It wasn’t like that,’ he said. ‘She was called out by accident to a death by asphyxiation. The person in question was David Grant.’
Moira sipped her tea. ‘It’s in the late edition of the morning papers. I don’t know where these people get their information from.’
Wilson could make a very good guess. The police officers and the ambulance crew would be the perfect starting point. He took a USB from his pocket. ‘Take a look at these photos when you get back to the office. Reid took them at the scene. It appears that Grant was into kinky sex. He was dressed in women’s underwear and had hooked himself up to a noose tied to a stair post. It’s what they call erotic asphyxiation. The lack of air is supposed to heighten the sexual experience.’
‘I’ll take your word for it.’ She took another sip out of her cup.
‘It’s not something you should try at home. Anyway, Reid wasn’t totally convinced that the death was accidental and she found a few discrepancies in the autopsy.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘I trust Reid’s intuition but if I bring this upstairs there might be a view that I’m trying to instigate a high profile investigation on very flimsy evidence.’
‘Nobody would accuse you of that.’ Moira finished her tea. She’d never pictured Wilson as the paranoid type.
‘I want you to get over to Grant’s house and tape the place up. If there’s any evidence, I don’t want it screwed up. Find Grant’s next of kin and contact them. His body is at the Royal and probably will stay there until the inquest. Reid intends to push for a murder conclusion with the coroner.’
‘What do you think?’
‘Off the top of my head, I think if it was a murder – a very elaborate one. A speeding car might have knocked him down, and that would have been an accident. But we would have looked for the speeding car and the person driving it. This way, we might think that it was either accidental or suicide. There’s nobody to look for.’
‘Look, Boss. I trust your instincts, but you know that the good professor doesn’t overly impress me. I know bugger all about erotic asphyxiation but if someone hooks