The Devil's Due: A Cooper and McCall Scottish Crime Thriller by Ramsay Sinclair (good inspirational books .TXT) 📗

10

DCI Campbell waited outside of Jack Harper's house, glancing into his front garden out of pure nosiness. Gnomes decorated the lawn and front steps alike, big, small and brightly coloured. McCall shuddered, easily spooked by doll inspired ornaments. If you didn’t know Jack Harper lived there, you would believe his red-bricked house was empty. Grime washed all the windows, green in hue and natural in growth. Cobwebs dusted his entire house from spiders who chose to leave their dusty remains behind.

“Freaky little ornaments,” DCI Campbell pulled a face, rapping twice on the door. “Jack Harper? It’s CID.” He kept it brief, polite, and tactical enough to entice Jack to open up.

A shadow moved distractedly from behind his curtains, signalling that Jack was inside, at least.

“He’s waiting there, behind that curtain,” I alerted McCall and DCI Campbell quietly. Jack took his time to greet us, and my suspicions rose steadily. “What’s taking him so long?” Impatience usually got me into trouble.

“Give the guy a chance,” McCall snarled.

Jack Harper finally worked up the courage to invite us in. He revealed himself, utterly different from what we expected. Evidently, Jack Harper was uninterested in looks, judging by his ripped shirt. It was faded of colour, a result of one too many past washes. Thin glasses perched atop his strongly featured nose, pinching its bridge tightly. Intense lines carved through his forehead, covered from a mop of greying hair.

Based on his gaunt figure, I’d have to be careful that Jack Harper didn’t drop dead. Anyone would presume that he never ate food. It was odd, for individually his features made sense, but mashed together… well, they didn’t fit together aesthetically. I flashed my DI badge with a sense of satisfaction, noticing how Jack Harper's face fell.

“CID. Could we come in?” There wasn’t much need to ask politely, as we already shoved inside without invitation.

“O-of course. I thought your guys got everything they needed the other day from me?” Jack Harper didn’t fight us but already made excuses.

“Yeah, well. It seems they made a mistake,” I muttered, wiping my finger along a sideboard counter. Dusty as hell. Dirty Harper.

“Sorry to disturb you, Mr Harper,” McCall apologised to counteract my stand-offish behaviour. “We have a small matter of business to clear up.”

Harper led us through to his kitchen, DCI Campbell first. The sink brimmed over with dirty plates and cups, unexpected for a man who barely ate. Decorated in paint acceptable for the eighties, Jack Harper’s kitchen did nobody any favours. That pink etched itself into my mind. He barely looked comfortable when safe in his own home. As DC Murphy mentioned, shelves of memories piled on top of each other, leaving no room to squeeze more in.

McCall subtly picked up a photograph, tilting it my way. It depicted a young girl, smiling and cheerful. She wore braided bunches with no worries and a sunny disposition. Her chubby cheeks would have lit up a room, you could tell. Nobody deserves such a terrible event to tear their world apart, not even this man. I read a framed message displayed next to it.

‘To daddy. You are my most favourite person in the whole wide world. Thank you for always giving me ice lollies when I ask and big cuddles. Love, Emily.’

It was scrawled untidily in red and blue crayons, a childish doodle of two stick people covered one half of the page, hand-drawn by Emily herself, aged eight. Emily must have been seventeen when the overdose happened, due to more scattered photographs of Emily in her early teenage years. She was a pretty girl, one which criminals would love taking advantage of. Easy prey.

Jack Harper bumbled sullenly, answering DCI Campbell’s polite conversation as he brewed tea. There were only three chairs around Jack Harper’s dining table, so I decently allowed McCall and DCI Campbell to take them. McCall smiled gratefully while DCI Campbell thanked me accordingly. I leant against a countertop, careful not to put my leather gloves into any wet patches.

The mugs clinked as Jack offered to serve all three of us. I politely declined, noting a stain on Jack Harper’s mug. At last, he settled down, unable to avoid us longer.

“We want you to be completely honest with us, Jack. You’re not in any trouble. We only have a few more questions to ask you,” McCall opened up, brushing a flaming wisp away from her cheek. They were still flushed from our walk uphill.

“What sort of questions? About that kid who got murdered? I don’t know anything,” Jack fired back, sure sounding guilty.

“Yes. But you knew Gavin Ellis, didn’t you, Jack?” DCI Campbell leaned forward, resting on his large table. “Only you failed to mention that in our written statements we received.”

I observed the man’s closed-off demeanour.

“No. I told your officers I vaguely knew Gavin.” Jack spat Gavin’s name, unintentionally staring at Emily’s photograph, then McCall’s boobs. Disgusting. McCall noticed and pulled her blazer tighter to conceal them more. Jack Harper pushed those rimmed glasses further up his nose.

“For Christ’s sake!” I hit the counter in anger, making Jack Harper flinch. “Bloody Cillian and his lacklustre efforts.”

“Yes, thank you, DI Cooper,” DCI Campbell silenced me.

Jack paused, blinking as he folded inside his own mind. Experiencing flashbacks, maybe? He hunched over, gritting his teeth spitefully and sweating buckets.

“How exactly did you know him?” McCall prodded, evidently hoping to rile a beast inside, trip Jack up into confessing whether he had a part in Gavin’s murder. Jack Harper's mouth fell open like he was not in control.

“You need me to tell you? Can’t you find it on your police records or something?” he whispered, lacking in energy.

None of us responded.

“He killed my daughter,” Jack got out at last. “My beautiful baby girl. Took advantage of her, stole her. Raped her. His filthy hands tainted my daughter’s body, then left her out there to rot. Whilst I was fast asleep at home, tucked up with my wife. Comfortable and warm. But Emily froze that