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

I could sympathise with that reasoning. Dalgety Bay didn’t need any more fuel to its raging fire.

“How did the split go with her husband? Any hostility there?” The priest seemed hesitant to answer my intrusive questions, obviously feeling a duty of confidence to a late friend. “I need to know. This could be vital in helping us to find out who killed Laura.”

The priest let out a huge sigh. “Terrible people out there. We’re not even safe in here anymore. Laura thought the split would impact how people of the church community witnessed her. She got paranoid, scared that we wouldn’t let her come to church anymore.”

“Would you have banned her from coming here?” I wondered.

“No. Divorce is allowed, on very strict grounds in our religion, like infidelity,” he hinted at the prospect.

“Right. Because Laura’s husband cheated on her, so the sin was his?” I said slowly.

“Kind of. You’re halfway there. It’s complicated,” the priest explained. “He was unfaithful to Laura for an entire year, from when their newborn babe arrived. Laura had no idea. That man showed his face here every week, and I spoke to him plenty of times. Would never have guessed. He shunned the whole religion when he left her. Nobody saw him again.” The priest inhaled loudly and stared at the dim ceiling. “Luckily for Laura, her divorce didn’t hinder her chances here. She would’ve been devastated, poor girl.”

“That’s a lot of control over someone’s free will. You practically own these people, your followers,” I duly noted, truly shocked at the way they lived. I was unaccustomed to their way of life, their devotion.

“Something changed inside Laura after he left,” the Priest spilt out, probably glad to talk to someone normally without having to give advice. “She became paranoid, completely different from the woman I used to know.”

“Paranoid?” That word in particular jumped as an odd adjective to describe a friend.

“She would convince herself that she was a bad person. Repeating things about sins, that she was incapable of being a proper mother.” The priest stared at me directly, being frank. Behind his gaze, the sadness was evident.

I took a deep breath, hoping he wouldn’t overreact to the next question I had lined up. “Did Laura ever mention any dealings with the devil? Any run-ins with a cult around here?”

The priest gasped, horrified at the thought.

“Not Laura.” He shook his head fervently. “She was too spiritual. She mentioned the devil was waiting for her to mess up, metaphorically, of course. I made sure she knew God was on her side.”

What if the devil was a physical representation of a person? Like our killer?

“Where would Laura go by herself? Did she have a favourite place?” I queried.

He coughed loudly, thankfully covering his mouth by a shivering hand. “She enjoyed walking the baby by the waterfront. I would join them sometimes, if I weren’t busy.”

Now that I’d managed to juice a bit of information out about Laura, I would have to question him too. He could be dodgy as muck, hiding in plain sight. Not unheard of.

“And where were you yesterday?” I asked.

“I stayed here, as always. I had appointments to help some couples through some issues. Confidential, as I'm sure you’ll understand.” I didn’t.

“Did anyone see you?”

“The couples. The cleaner,” the Priest listed, cheeks rounding in a smile. He can’t be much older than me. “We had a special prayer group here yesterday too, a very special time indeed. Laura would have loved it.”

“I’m sure.” I half paid attention, typing his rough alibi details over text for DC Taylor to sort out. I slapped my legs and rose from our uncomfortable bench, cracking my sore back into place. “Thanks for your time. I’ll be in touch,” I assured him.

“Good luck, DI Cooper.” His tea-stained teeth smiled gratefully, and he slapped my back in a fatherly fashion. “Remember if you ever change your mind--”

“I won’t. See you later,” I excused myself politely and left the priest sitting alone in his palace of forgiveness.

I strolled down towards the waterfront, to where the priest believed Laura would visit often. A bunch of grubby rocks caused me to watch where I was going. I’d be no use to anyone if I injured myself. I skimmed the stretch of sand, staring across the open body of water beginning to settle to dusk. The sun had nearly set, creating a perfect set of light reflection on the surface.

The gentle whooshing of waves sounded in and out. A perfect lullaby for a baby, I imagined Laura would have thought the same. Cars in the distance travelled quickly, some queued up in needless traffic. Their headlights piled up upon the tall structure.

A distressed, dirty bench waited nearby, inviting me to relax and watch the water come and go. The passing of time. To sit still and admire the beauty of nature we miss in our hectic lives. Mine especially.

“Is that you, Cooper?” a familiar voice shot through one ear and I flinched in fright, squaring up, ready to fight any thug who fancied it.

Mandy Smalls looked on in surprise, her elderly face a pleasant sight to see.

“Sorry,” I apologised appropriately, letting my arms sink of their own accord.

“Boys!” she exclaimed. “Always starting fights but never finishing them.” She chuckled and made some comment about ‘boys will be boys,’ as she bundled her full weight down on the bench and shuffled next to me, the cheeky mare. I shuffled away in the opposite direction. A flirting grandma was not vital to my thoughts right then. “It’s lovely out here, isn’t it? Nothing like a good winter's walk to get the blood flowing.”

“I wish I could say the same. My walk has been anything but pleasant, I’m afraid,” I shared.

“Life is what you make it,” she mused. If only that were true for all the people out there who died too early. For those who desperately tried to live, to fight, to stay alive.

“What are you doing out here, Mandy? It’s dark, and you’re