Snow Storm Read Online Free PDF Page B

out the window at the yellowing skyline, flanked by photos
of her grandkids. Steele’s office at least had a degree of
personality to it compared with Gray’s tribute to 90s
utilitarianism.
    “ I feel that
went well guys,” she finally said, attempting to adjust an unruly
pot plant. “You were fairly conspicuous in your silence James,
although I think we managed to fill that void
    fairly well. I trust you
were actually with us in there?”
    “ Yes Ma’am,”
Burke replied.
    “ Good. It’s
good practice for you, you know. Media experience is a thing you’ll
need to progress in the modern force.” Steele raised the index and
middle fingers on each hand forming quotation marks before adding,
“Going forward” and Burke couldn’t help but like her a little more
for it. “In the mean-time chaps, what exactly is the script? Are we
really pursuing multiple lines of enquiry as you said? I really
hope we know something about what’s going on here.”
    “ Well,” Gray,
started awkwardly, “there is one theory doing the rounds.” He
looked appealingly at Burke, who now realised the DCI did not know
where he was going with this one and expected his subordinate to
help him out and magic something out of the ether.
    He dutifully
obliged with all he had while inwardly cursing Campbell for
expressing his opinions.
    After a conversation
which made him feel like he needed to take a shower, he headed to
Moray Place.
    He pressed the buzzer
next to the brass name plates heralding the names of the many
MBACPs present and was duly allowed over the threshold. He
announced his presence to the receptionist who seemed fresh faced
and chirpy in contrast to those in the waiting room. His dentist
employed a more matronly type who looked at patients with the
knowing sense of foreboding combined with a touch of sympathy only
years of dealing with the afflicted could provide. Here they’d gone
for the screaming of their own success by employing someone with
the right shade of lip gloss approach, more traditionally deployed
by advertising agencies.
    He took a
seat by the stack of magazines under an aesthetically questionable
Jackson Pollock rip-off and checked his emails. Aside from the
standard invitations to buy Viagra and Xanax and the many warnings
from the many banks he had no dealings with regarding the security
of his accounts there was nothing to report.
    Reflex meant he would
normally dig his hands deep into his pockets in a place like this
but he forced himself not to and instead picked up a magazine about
running and thumbed through. One day perhaps he would be able to
run the length of himself. Until such time he could always read
about it here, provided he could pick up the magazine.
    The receptionist called
his name and he made his way through, head hung low, to explain
himself some more.
    Dr Carr was
probably around five years older than he was but had a face with an
ageless quality.
    “ Morning,”
Burke began, “or is it afternoon?” He checked his watch. Just
before twelve. “On the cusp,” he concluded as he sat down awkwardly
and she smiled patiently.
    She always
had this effect on him. In the two years or so he’d been coming
here there was invariably this disjointed exchange with the cursory
attempt at small talk on his side and what could have been called a
gentle stone wall in response.
    “ So, how are
you?” she enquired.
    “ Good. Good,”
he fired back, emphasising the second good and looking at his
Chelsea-booted toes before catching her gaze and the raised eyebrow
that suggested doubt at this. Social convention meant he always
felt the need to ask the same back but as with the magazine he
forced himself to defy reflex.
    She said nothing, knowing
he would give in and fill the uncomfortable void with whatever
poured out. He reasoned it must be like the psychiatrist’s ink
blot. You saw what you wanted to see and blurted out whatever came
to your head. In a similar way she was tapping into whatever