Short Excerpt from THE UNBURIED DEAD 2

Added on 13 September 2012

It is a question being asked by hundreds of millions of crime fiction fans around the world: what in the name of fuck is Douglas Lindsay working on now?

Today we can exclusively reveal that reclusive renegade author, Lindsay, is secretly at work on the follow-up to 2012's smash hit crime thriller The Unburied Dead. While the title of the novel won't be finalised until after a full consultation process involving booksellers, internet experts and highly paid marketing consultants, Lindsay is believed to be writing the book using the codename THE UNBURIED DEAD 2.

Exact details of the storyline are a closely guarded secret, with the outline of the plot believed to be known to no more than seven or eight staff at Lindsay's publisher, Blasted Heath. Nevertheless one of those few has today allowed a short scene from the book to be released on the internet. While some observers are unsure about the provenance of the work and are questioing its authenticity, others are quick to point out that it's 'sadly, just the kind of thing that Lindsay would write.'

It is believed that the manuscript for The Unburied Dead 2 will be completed some time in the next month, and that the book will be released in the publishing window between December 2012 and July 2016.

As with the previous book, the words are those of maverick copper, Detecitve Sergeant Thomas Hutton.

Seven minutes past eight. Made it into work ahead of schedule, mainly because I didn’t have time to get pished last night, didn’t sleep well, then was wide awake from about six. Got up. Shaved, showered, made myself some bacon and toast and coffee. Drank orange juice. Watched the news. The Plague of Crows was all over. They had the Justice Minster on, announcing that this would be the government’s top priority and that a team of top Edinburgh detectives were being put on the case.

He actually said that, used that very phrase. Top Edinburgh detectives. He didn’t say that it was because Glasgow detectives are obviously shit, what with them being so provincial, but then he didn’t say it in such a way as he said it.

So I got into work not long after seven, and now it’s seven minutes past eight and Taylor and I are sitting in Connor’s office. Waiting to be informed, presumably, that we’ve been put back on traffic duty what with us being so shit, ‘n all. If only we’d received our training in Edinburgh. We’re so disadvantaged.

I reckon, and I’m just saying, that if we ever get to be independent, the nation  will quickly descend into the kind of ethnic violence and hatred that you get in all those countries in the middle of Africa the minute the sensible (or vicious imperialist) authority buggers off. Catholics versus Protestants, Edinburgh versus Glasgow, Highlands versus soft southern lowland bastards. Someone, somewhere, will want to make amends for Culloden. We hold a grudge. It’ll be shit.

I’m still going to vote for it, though. Time to stand on our own two feet, rather than get a piggy back for the rest of eternity.

‘What the fuck are you thinking about?’ says Taylor.

I glance over. Uh-oh. Must have been doing that thing where I was having an internal discussion and was letting it show on my face.


He looks at me with that wry paternal smile.

‘Does that mean you’re trying to decide whether you’d shag Sarah Palin or Aung San Suu Kyi?’

         The door opens behind us before I can puke my stomach out laughing, and Connor walks crisply into the office. Sits down across the desk. First time I’ve been in here since he arrived. Still feel that vague discomfiture at being forced to sit in the presence of authority. Even, or maybe especially, when it’s a total ball sack like this bloke.