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

“Damn it.” I banged the wall furiously. McCall was disappointed in my bribery tactics.

“Can I have my money now?” The bloke grabbed the money.

“I’d suggest you piss off home now and don’t do your ‘friends’ any favours. You’ll be the one who takes the fall, in the long run.” I folded up my twenty and stuffed it back into my pocket, much to McCall’s relief.

The friend disappeared sheepishly, just glad to still have Jack’s money inside his wallet.

“He knew we were watching,” McCall derived. “So why run?”

“He’s guilty. Got to be,” I stared at my shoes.

“I’m not sure,” McCall confessed.

“Why?” I squinted, something about her seemed off. “Do you know something?”

DC Taylor scribbled down a few reports of our encounter for legal purposes. He’s that kind of officer, by the book and straight down the line, in his own world. He wandered into the front room, jotting down every note possible.

McCall eventually gave into me. “Last night, after your blow up with Campbell. I went to the medical centre, exactly as you’d suggested. Jack Harper didn’t clock in on the eighth because--”

“Sir?” DC Taylor grabbed my attention away from McCall. “I think I’ve found something you’ll want to see.”

I faced our young team member, noticing how good looking he is in broad daylight. I don’t swing that way, but it’s easy to see why women like McCall could be attracted to him. His youthful eyes had no lines of worry. Lucky genes.

He led us through to Jack’s shrine of a living room, pointing behind a cream armchair. “There’s a bag, looks as though it was stashed in a hurry. We don’t have a warrant, but I wondered-”

“Oh, stuff the warrant,” McCall barked, practically throwing both fingers up to protocol, as restless as I was. She leant down to examine the bag. DC Taylor was well equipped and handed her a pair of latex gloves to minimise potential evidence contamination.

“Never leave without them,” he revealed.

“Good to know. Handy.” My pun wasn’t the best, but it was enough to make DC Taylor snort appreciatively. Once they were on, McCall dived straight back into the bag.

She opened the two flaps, giving room for us to peek inside. There was an array of equipment inside. Some bog-standard first aid supplies like bandages resided inside, but another glinting object caught our eyes.

“What’s that?” DC Taylor mused, pointing from afar at the object.

It was lying on top, obviously why Jack Harper stashed his bag in the first place. McCall reached in to pull the long silver object out, making sure not to touch the edge, tinted red with dried blood. A scalpel.

“What kind of a doctor doesn’t sterilise his medical equipment?” DC Taylor noted in disgust, shaking his head.

“The kind of doctor who isn’t really a doctor,” McCall revealed gravely.

“What does that mean?” I gawked at McCall.

“Sarge?” DC Taylor rested his hand upon her shoulder tenderly, persuading her to talk. My hands were bagging up the scalpel, so I couldn’t console her anyway, which was probably for the best. Physicality wasn’t my style.

“I have something to show you.” She disclosed.

15

McCall rifled through the Volvo glove box and hauled out a brown folder. I had no clue what she was talking about, and neither did DC Taylor. I leant against the car door, inspecting McCall fumble about. She seemed uncertain and nervous, different from her everyday confidence. Her gingery locks got in her way, so she flicked them back with aggravation.

DC Taylor sat down on Jack Harper’s front steps for a small break. It had been all go from the start of this morning. All of us were ready to take a break, even for five minutes.

“Study that,” McCall told me and placed the folder in my hands with a stern expression. The sticker on the folder read ‘Catherine Jones.’

“Who’s Catherine Jones?” Had I missed something here? Inquisitively, I opened the front wad of cardboard to reveal sheets of… medical records.

“Where did you—?” I began, but McCall cut me off.

“Just read them.”

I rifled through the sheets as instructed and held on tight, so they would not blow away in the strong breeze. Tablets, GP’s, blah blah. Then my eyes stopped scanning. A particular name leapt out from the monochrome pages. Jack Harper, doctor of Catherine Jones. I still had no idea why McCall appeared so interested in this information.

“Right, he treated a patient. He’s supposedly a doctor,” I reiterated to my partner, who denied my thesis.

“Was. Was a doctor. Not anymore,” she stated candidly. “After you and DCI Campbell had your falling out last night, I thought more about what you said. About checking out his alibi.”

DC Taylor sat up straight, as captivated as I was.

“Originally, I drove to the medical centre to see if Jack Harper’s alibi matched,” McCall explained. “I asked his clock in time, but he had none. They told me he’d not worked there in the last three months. Huge scandal apparently.”

She flunked another folder into my arms. Jack Harper’s. There was a reason I enjoyed working with her. She dug deep.

“Why didn’t anyone else check this out before?” I wondered aloud, fascinated at how she found all this out by following my gut instinct.

“Lack of time,” DC Taylor helped us out. “It’s been all go at the office whilst you two were gone.”

“The hospital kept quiet about Jack Harper prescribing prescription drugs to an underage girl.” I read aloud as I skimmed through his file. I pulled out a letter, containing details of the agreement. Confidential agreements.

“He stole medication for Catherine Jones. She was the underage girl.”

“He destroyed his career over her?” DC Taylor piped up, and McCall agreed wholly.

“Exactly. Which is why I think Jack Harper is with Catherine Jones. If it was enough to ruin his whole career over, he must have an affliction with her,” McCall suggested with passion. She truly believed in herself, for once listening to her own instincts.

“She never pressed charges against him?” DC Taylor asked, regarding McCall’s