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

McCall twisted casually and stopped dead. Noticing me too. DC Taylor was still staring in the opposite direction, unaware of my presence. McCall couldn’t believe Abbey was with me and her casual, easy smile diminished from sight. I’d realised she was pissed off from our earlier interaction, but I didn’t realise to what extent. Her gloved hand gripped DC Taylor tighter and tugged them away out of sight.

Abbey had noticed the whole awkward interaction quietly.

“That’s my work... colleague,” I struggled to pinpoint mine and McCall’s relationship after that exchange. Abbey’s eyes opened wide.

“I thought I recognised her. She’s nice. She spoke to me this morning. Are they…?” Abbey hinted about DC Taylor’s role in this whole debacle, hinting at a possible couple on the horizon.

“I think so,” I bundled up my chip packet irritably and grabbed Abbey’s discarded wrappers too. My entire mood had turned sour whilst I stalked across the street to find a bin. Abbey sat scrolling through her phone from far away, her pretty face illuminated by her phone screen. My feelings were jumbled and all over the pace. I had no clue what I was doing here, with her.

“Thanks, you know, for the food, but I’m gonna head home. Long day ahead tomorrow. There’s still a criminal to catch,” I said, as a means to excuse myself from Abbey’s company the minute I returned.

I bundled up my jacket, and she didn’t try to stop me. Abbey grabbed her bag, a napkin and pen, jotting down some readable scribbles.

“You’re welcome. Take this.” She handed the paper over to reveal her number scrawled across. “Call me if you ever want a night out or another date.” Abbey winked once again and showed off her expertly applied makeup.

“This wasn’t a date,” I excused.

“You keep telling yourself that, DI Cooper,” Abbey waved cheekily, then slung her bag back over her shoulder. She sauntered away towards a wine bar across the street. What a woman.

I was left to wipe my greasy hands down my smart trousers, with no other alternative. I’d already thrown the tissue away. McCall’s reaction replayed in my mind, haunting me. We’d always been like fire and ice, everybody said so. Except, our iciness had tripled. I shouldn’t have let McCall get so close to me, so personal. Friendships didn’t last at CID. Casual acquaintances did.

Maybe Abbey would be the correct way forward, no former connections or friendship. The angel on my shoulder warned me to distance myself from women altogether. They always came with an abundance of trouble and mess I couldn’t worm my way out of.

19

The next day brought no further happiness. Fish oil clogged its way down my throat and had me begging for a glass of water all night long. I woke again with another splitting headache, consisting of all its usual symptoms.

My small cod repeated on me throughout the entire day, especially when I stared down at Gavin’s lifeless body. DCI Campbell situated himself next to me, whereas McCall decided she should stay as far away as possible.

“There appeared to be an initial wound on the stomach, just… here.” The pathologist mimed a circle around the wound. “I’d suggest he was facing the attacker, due to marks along his forearm. The wounds would suggest self-defence, like he tried to shield himself away from whoever stabbed him.”

I acted out a small scene in my mind of how that scenario would have played out. If both hands were thrust into the air, anybody could have easily welded a knife into Gavin’s abdomen.

“If you look carefully,” the pathologist lifted Gavin’s eyelid gently, “you will note the bloodshot eyes. Usually happens when victims are suffocated, a hallmark of asphyxiation.”

I peered over Gavin’s body. Indeed, his eyes were bloody.

“It takes a long time to strangle someone,” DCI Campbell furrowed his brows in thought, the awful lighting casting shadows underneath his baggy eyes, grey with seriousness, much like the rest of him. This was his idea after our duff encounter with Jack Harper. DCI Campbell believed learning more about Gavin’s wounds could point towards similar murders encountered before. Give us something to work from.

McCall stayed silent and focused on the body in front of us.

“We see it happen a lot when attackers suffer uncontrollable rage,” the pathologist noted. “This one stabbed the victim, then probably strangled him to finish him off slowly. Cruel for the sake of being cruel.”

“Torture,” McCall supported his statement.

“What would you say the murder weapon was?” I questioned out of curiosity, trying to glimpse a closer look at the wounds carved on his arm.

“It’s odd, you see.” The expert gestured to each wound as he brought them up. “The first one to the abdomen is small with a serrated edge, not large enough to be any kind of knife. The wound is only two inches deep. As best as we can tell, it was a key of some kind. Not easy to kill someone like that, but enough to hurt. Then, Gavin was strangled and stabbed again, with a knife instead.”

“So why not use the knife in the first place?” McCall pondered, speaking aloud what we all had to be thinking.

“Perhaps the attacker used the first thing he could find in a rage. Strangled Gavin for the sake of it, whilst reaching around for his own weapon,” My voice sounded eerily cheerful for our surroundings.

It wasn’t supposed to sound that way. I simply enjoyed this part of the investigation, thinking in the same way the killer thought. I continued to act out the scene to get a better insight of that night in my head.

“Gavin was bound to have a pocket knife of some sort with the sort of groups he associated with,” DCI Campbell added, nodding along with my explanations. “Probably carried one for his own protection.”

“So he could’ve been halfway through the act before finding Gavin’s knife? Stabbed Gavin with his own weapon and threw everything in the water for good measure. The perfect self-cleaning crime.” I