Free The Unburied Dead by Douglas Lindsay Page A

rung with a comforting lack of affectation. I was expecting it be the Hallelujah Chorus , or something equally grandiose and pretentious, but instead it was a fairly close approximation of ding dong.
    God, I'm talking pish. I have to relax. She's only a woman. I've had hundreds of them. No, really. Try not to wonder why I'm here, because that's not going to get me anywhere. I've been thinking about her since I saw her topless; maybe she's been thinking about me. There's weirder shit than that in life.
    Maybe she wants to talk about all the war shit. She knows a little of the story, and every now and again she makes some comment about how she must learn more about it, it's so interesting, and on and on… I don't believe she's interested in my part in the Balkan wars any more than I want to go back there.
    My part in the Balkan wars , for crying our loud.
    Still in a mild state of excitement after the first meal of the evening. The kids were all over me, after ignoring my instructions and opening the presents there and then. They went down a bomb. I'll have to thank Harrison. Nearly fell out with Andy over the ridiculous fusty moustache he's attempting to grow, but then he's a teenager and he'll do a lot more stupid things than that before he hits his twenties.
    Anyway, their mother arrives, not just to pick them up, but to sit and have a drink. So there we were, the happy family. I hand over the gift to Peggy, she does the same opening it there in front of me routine, then nearly freaks. In a good way. You could tell the kids loved it. All the while I was wondering what Mr No Personality would make of it if he were to walk in but then the way the conversation went, I got the impression that he had taken his deficient character back to Paisley and was leaving my family alone.
    They all ended up pleading with me to come and spend Christmas dinner, to which I agreed, leaving myself with the quandary of what to do about the delicious Bathurst. Almost asked if I could bring her along, but thought better of it. So I'll check out of work tomorrow at five, and rejoin the family; and if the merchant wanker has just walked out, it looks like I timed my expensive present to perfection. There are two things women never fail to fall for – diamonds and occasional displays of maturity. They work every time, and I managed to pull both off in the same day.
    The door opens. Superintendent Charlotte Miller. I stand and stare at her. Her eyes, I'm looking at her eyes. She leans against the door.
    'Are you going to come in, Thomas? You look freezing.'
    I'm no fashion freak – another plus to my character – so I don't know what you'd call what she's wearing. Sort of pyjamas. And blue.
    Walk tentatively into the house, not sure whether I'm going to find anyone else there. Had the sudden thought on the way down here that maybe she was inviting about twenty people from the station and we were all keeping it quiet thinking we'd been specially selected.
    I wander into a dining room, low lights, roaring fire, soft music, two place settings at the table, one very obvious bottle of champagne. Christmas tree in the corner.
    'Can I take your jacket, get you a drink?'
    I take my coat off, hand it to her. I've got that weird feeling in the throat you get sometimes when you know you're about to have sex.
    'Vodka tonic, please.'
    'All right,' she says, and shimmers out the room.
    Jesus. Just bugger the questions as to why I'm here, I can worry about them tomorrow. Plenty of time. Relax and enjoy yourself, Hutton. And it might finally be time to stop feeling guilty about all those lascivious breast-related thoughts.
    I start looking at the pictures on the walls. Sailing ships and big seas mostly. I've heard tell she's a member of the Royal and Northern Yacht Club just around the corner. Doesn't sail, just goes there to hang out with the rest of the local money and to shag whatever big stick she can get her hands on. Very admirable.
    The mind rambles on. If I