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

night, lying dead in some filthy ditch.” Jack took a moment of reflection, as if transported back to that night.

None of us expected such a vivid reaction.

“My wife was pregnant,” he went on. “We were going to tell Emily the next morning. She always wanted a brother or sister. We rushed downstairs, into this very kitchen, and made her favourite breakfast. My wife called her. And called her. But she wasn’t home. My little Emily…” Jack Harper broke down, tears falling without shame. A grown man reduced to a young boy in front of our eyes.

Jack’s mouth hung open with silent screams of pain, and McCall jumped from her seat to console him. The father held onto McCall for dear life, afraid of collapsing without that extra support. With his mentally emotional speech, Jack Harper only gave me additional explanations as to why he could have killed Gavin Ellis out of revenge. He had enough motive.

Jack Harper accepted the Kleenex McCall handed him gratefully. His tears soaked through until it was nothing but a scrunched-up wad in his fist. We gave him time to steady himself. We were not wholly ruthless people.

“Last time I saw… him, was in court,” Jack sneered. “They sentenced him to six years, but he got out in three. Good behaviour. How can that be possible? He killed my little girl.”

“We know, Jack. We know,” McCall spoke softly, rubbing his back in circles.

Bet he loved that, did old Dirty Harper. The façade of a half functional man utterly vanished.

“Tell us again where you were the night Gavin Ellis was murdered.” DCI Campbell spoke softly, feeling Jack Harper’s pain as a parent. I didn’t have the same responsibilities of parenthood, so I could not relate personally. Perhaps that’s why only I could see clearly through his crappy act.

“I told you before,” Harper mumbled, “I was working a night shift for extra money. Since my wife left, I can barely afford the bills here. I’m not sorry he died.”

“Why don’t you move into cheaper accommodation?” I pointed out ruthlessly, heartlessly.

“She grew up here. I can feel her spirit watching over me.” Great, the man was deluded. “I’m a doctor but had to reduce my hours drastically after… Emily.” Jack Harper wiped his glasses with the hem of his ragged shirt.

We held back a further ten minutes, but by then, Jack had turned into a snivelling mess, refusing to answer any more questions. He’d stepped too far into his bed of agony. As we exchanged our disheartened goodbyes, McCall hoped Jack would be alright when left alone. No doubt he would want to be alone, away from prying eyes.

Being back out in the abrupt Scottish air was a relief for all three of us. We appreciated our break after Jack Harper's overbearing emotions. Depressing. McCall was shaken from blues, DCI Campbell in a state of sorrow. They believed every sob story Jack Harper spun them.

I, however, was a different tale.

“Jack Harper’s hiding something. I don’t know what, but I don’t trust him,” I bravely observed.

McCall disagreed completely. “Could you not see his heartache? He lost his daughter—”

“Exactly. His motive to kill Gavin Ellis is greater than anyone else.” I shrugged nonchalantly.

“I’m not sure, Cooper. As a parent, his grief was real. Those weren’t crocodile tears.” DCI Campbell scratched his balding head. “This was a golden coincidence that Gavin was murdered, and Jack Harper might feel relieved knowing some kind of justice was served, eventually.”

“You’re talking about karma?” I had to hear that twice.

“Well, yes.” DCI Campbell pouted thoughtfully. Ne’er in my life had I heard karma being dragged into a CID case.

“You’re saying Jack Harper got lucky that our victim happened to be Gavin Ellis? The guy who killed his daughter?” And again, I didn't know whether this was a wind-up or not.

McCall recognised a vat of steaming hot blood trickling through my veins and shook her head for me to cut it out.

“That’s exactly what I'm saying. I feel for the guy. Look at him. Jack Harper would be in no fit state to murder someone. He can barely lift himself out of bed.” DCI Campbell chuckled, pushing me to the edge.

“I’m sorry, sir, but that’s complete bullshite! Can you hear yourself? This is sloppy police work, and I won’t condone it. Not even from a superior. Where’s your hard evidence to write Jack Harper off?” I shouted perhaps louder than intended, for I got DCI Campbell’s back up. He stepped over, squaring up.

“Finlay, stop it. DCI Campbell, sir, I think we should all--” McCall tried to intervene, to no avail.

“No, where is yours, Cooper?” DCI Campbell pushed me lightly in the chest. He was a notably heavier guy.

“He said he’s a doctor.” I thought up some fair examples. “They’re surrounded by medical equipment all day long. The cut on Gavin’s arm would have been marked with a blade from a small instrument. A scalpel, maybe? What if, in a moment of anger, he left work and found Gavin walking down the bay? Murdered him and threw him in the river?”

“You’re clutching at straws, DI Cooper.” DCI Campbell examined me with suspicion. “I hear a lot of what if’s here. Where’s your own evidence to back up these harsh statements? What do you want to do, bang up an innocent, grieving man without evidence? The judge will love you! We’ll be a laughingstock.”

“If that’s what it takes to protect Dalgety Bay, then yes.” I faced DCI Campbell directly, getting madder every second. “And you, as DCI, should think the same. Just because Jack Harper had a daughter, it shouldn’t cloud our judgement. Some fathers kill their own families! It’s our job to know when somebody lies to our faces.”

McCall couldn’t help us now.

“I suggest you don’t start questioning my ability as a DCI, Cooper. Tread carefully.” He gestured wildly, as people do during arguments. “Once you’ve crossed me, there’s no going back. I won't act on impulse without evidence to back myself up first. I’ll rely on my