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

“Well…” Abbey’s eyes glimmered as she placed the roses down gently. Upon ordering a second lager, I ordered Abbey a pink gin. She accepted it gratefully. “This happened pretty last minute. DI Cooper owed me an apology for forgetting to meet me the other night, as planned, and I believe an invitation out with his friends was substantial.”

“Friends could be a bit strong,” McCall clowned, and all three tittered in unison. I faked an insincere laugh, nervously. “Last minute is Finlay’s speciality.”

Abbey secretly placed her slim, manicured hand on my thigh underneath the table. Simply conveying her emotions through physical contact. I wavered momentarily, before sliding my fingers through her own. We gripped them together tightly, a greater force attracting us together. All fire and passion.

When DCI Campbell arrived late to his own party, wife and son in tow, everyone cheered, showering them in party poppers. His wife and son were rowdy and up for a good time, serving everyone food and drinks until nobody could stand up any longer. We collapsed onto the chairs, to cheer DCI Campbell’s attempt at drinking games, all of which his wife suggested. Ending his years at our station with a bang. DCI Campbell would never be replaced, and we all revelled in the comfort that we had such an excellent mentor to teach us the ropes.

“Here’s to the finest Guv we’ve ever had at CID. May he have many happy years of retirement and survive the endless nagging we expect from Mrs Campbell. Don’t let us down. Keep him in shape for us, Mrs C, and never let his socks fall centimetres below his ankles,” I said, due to the endless years we had to hear DCI Campbell moan about sloppy socks. “Merry Christmas everyone and a very happy retirement to DCI Campbell. Our guv.”

“Our guv!” everyone cheered, coming together for a night of solidarity. Even the locals raised a glass, regardless of whether they had met DCI Campbell before or not. Our hearts light and heavy, all at once as we let him go through an almighty send-off. McCall raised a secretive glass in my direction, pretending to down the lot in one.

Abbey clinked her glass with mine. “Merry Christmas, Finlay.”

Epilogue

“As you can tell, I learnt a lot from my first case as detective inspector. Detective Sergeant McCall and I couldn’t have completed half of our arrests without the guidance from DCI Campbell at the time. We officers continue to be indebted to him as the years pass.”

I wrapped up my long-winded anecdote, absolutely parched. The crowd listened intently, fascinated by the perspective from which our opening story was told. Mandy Smalls sat nearer the back, showing her unwavering support, a woman we were eternally indebted and grateful for. I could have sworn she winked at me.

The cameraman signalled less than three minutes of our awful interview. McCall sighed, grateful our uncertain reputations had not tarnished themselves yet. My bed called out from miles away, inviting me home with my beloved.

“After a spectacularly long and successful career, what is one thing you’d like all the viewers and readers to know before you take a break from CID?” The skinny kid reporter posed a splendid question to wrap everything up.

I carefully considered a catchy sign-off, hoping for memorable final words as I departed from my career for a short while. Inspirational language failed me, so I searched for a source of comfort in the stony crowd.

Georgina Ryder wrote unnaturally fast, loving the amount of sarcasm included in every quote, fuel for her fire, but I was used to her slander. I moved on, and I found my wife’s eyes in the murmuring crowd, and there, I found a reminder of exactly what I needed to say.

“I’m coming back.”

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