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

assured McCall, although disbelief was evident behind her eyes. Now I knew exactly what to talk about, how to pile pressure on. McCall continued to stare at me, unconvinced. “So, Kris. Would you mind keeping me up to date with the proceedings? What exactly have you told my colleagues here?”

Kris fiddled with a particle of pink fluff. “Why don’t you ask them?” Gavin’s mother sulked, breathing out smoke through blackened teeth.

“Because I’m asking you, and I won't ask again.”

Taking one peek over, Kris noticed my brutal honesty. “I told them the truth. I don’t know where Gavin went that night, or who he was with. He left here, and that was the last I saw of him,” she rattled stubbornly.

“We thought Gavin might have paid his father a visit,” the family liaison officer spoke softly, explaining the order in which they discovered this information.

“I told ‘em Gavin didn’t know his father. Taken to prison years ago for burglary. Left his family behind fending for themselves,” Kris spat, shaking her blonde-rooted head in apparent bitterness. I stayed quiet, biding precious time. Waiting for an opportune moment. It found me, when Kris began refusing to tell us any new information. “I did not have anything to do with my son's death. Surely this is illegal, interrogating me in my own home.”

The ‘illegal’ card. It’s surprising how often guilty people use that very same phrase. Taking a deep breath, I took a turn around her living room, inspecting everything laid out in front of us. Mugs, alcohol, cushions. All while disputing Kris Ellis’ last agreeable point.

“You hated Gavin’s father for being a criminal. What’s to say you didn’t begin hating Gavin too?” I hypothetically set the situation, allowing my co-workers to imagine a similar scenario. “Gavin committed plenty of petty crimes, exactly how his father began,” I spoke coolly. Shrugging. Kris eyeballed me, a glint of malevolence shining deep inside.

“Gavin was... is nothing like his father. I didn’t hate my son.”

“So what happened, Kris?” I snatched her blasted cigarette away and stubbed it into mere ashes. Afterwards, I moved the ashtray over to a nearby mantlepiece. Hopefully, blocking any more temptation. Smoking was only a diversion set up by Kris to distract from important, heavier subjects anyway. “Did you two get into an argument? Did a bit of rough and tumble go too far? We all heard you threatening to punish him earlier, when we arrived. Did Gavin walk away, and you stopped him, using motherly force? Because if that is what occurred, Kris, it’s a serious reason to suspect you. And if you lied about hurting Gavin, things won’t look good.”

McCall frowned, and the family liaison officer leaned forward. “Stop this, DI Cooper. Can’t you see Kris is upset?”

“She’s not upset.” I declined their pleas when Kris Ellis shed a token tear. Fake for certain. Aiming to gain sympathetic attention. Or similarly to deflect away from my topics. Kris wasn’t truthful, for her eyes shifted between objects. First, her cat. Then McCall. “There are paint chips on the garden floor. I noticed them outside. How long since it last rained?” I directly questioned nobody in particular. More of a consensus.

Our family liaison officer appeared muddled, and McCall altered her position against the window ledge. Entirely fed, yet intrigued by my excitement. “I don’t know, three days?”

“Four,” My work partner stood corrected. “It hasn’t rained since Gavin left this house. Four days ago, according to Kris Ellis.” Kris shuffled nervously in her armchair. Even her cat noticed a disturbance in behaviour and bolted away to safety.

“What’s that got to do with anything?” Kris mumbled, flushing pink.

McCall listened intently to our exchange of words, surveying Kris Ellis’s unusual behaviour. Believing that I was in fact, onto something. Only I knew I was bluffing. We still had no real clue what happened between Gavin and Kris. Kris needed pushing over an imaginary edge to loosen her tongue. A woman who wouldn’t trust, nor spill details easily. By accusing Kris, I hoped she would retaliate with the truth. Some reverse psychology.

“Something marked that front door four days ago, on the night your son left here and ended up dead. Unfortunately for you, Kris, the weather is not your friend, and our evidence hasn’t washed away yet. Not that it matters now because I’ve got photographs right here.” A golden glimmer of hopeful light burst into our veins.

McCall stepped nearer to the ornate mantelpiece, brushing against my shoulder as back up. No smile hinted upon her lips. No friendly, benevolent expression.

“We can ask the neighbours. Find out what they saw, whether they noticed Gavin leaving here that night. If they overheard any arguments or heated speech. Either you cooperate, Kris, or we assume that you are lying about Gavin’s death,” she said, holding both fire and disappointment in those Scottish blue eyes.

I knew our sergeant believed the best in people, but most inhabitants of planet Earth have hidden secrets. The liaison officer interrupted, making herself useful for once.

“It’s alright, Miss Ellis,” she soothed. “If there’s no reason for you to be guilty or charged, then both DI Cooper and DS McCall will do everything in their power to help. To find whoever did this to Gavin and hold them accountable in the eyes of the law.”

Kris finally glanced upwards, catching my gaze with a penetrating gaze of sorrow. Grief evident through her entire demeanour. Kris flumped over the cushioned armrest and massaged her temples slowly.

“Aye,” Kris whispered gently. “It’s all my fault.”

4

Bang on the money.

We waited silently for Kris to find words that explained Gavin’s situation. At least she readily admitted storing knowledge about her son, even though it took too much persuading to find out. Maybe now, we’d acquire some decent leads worth following.

“I didn’t hit Gavin or try to hurt him. We had an argument, yes. And I regret it. Deeply.” Kris paused, seeing the family liaison officer taking down every word admitted. “If only I could have known what would happen to Gavin