The Devil Among Us Ramsay Sinclair (librera reader .TXT) 📖

lost the only remaining lead for the case. The criminals were desperately severing the ties between them and our investigation. He didn’t deserve this ending, whatever this meant.

Both he and McCall were running and weaving in my thoughts as the stairs reached the gloomy morgue where paint chipped along the walls and a few light bulbs had blown out. Then again, dead individuals didn’t need to see much.

A handmade sign was stuck to their front desk, held up precariously by blu-tac. Someone had halfheartedly scrawled, ‘Please be respectful and ring the bell’. DCI Reid’s vast, sizable body lent impatiently over the desk and tapped his shoe every couple of seconds.

I could tell he was itching for the company.

“Guv.” I half scared him out of his wits.

“Cooper, I didn’t hear you coming. I was thinking. Now you’re here I can ring the bell, as per their… instruction.” He dryly gestured towards the smudged writing.

Joining the Guv, we waited a while to be joined by a staff member that could help us. As I inquisitively peering around the claustrophobic corridor, I asked a few viable questions to get a grasp on what we’d be dealing with. I’d need some time to prepare if Flynn’s body was mauled or something of the like.

“When did you find out Flynn had died?”

“Roughly an hour ago. It’s foul play, Cooper. Flynn Jones was nowhere near critical. He was suffering from shock and a few stitches, that’s all.”

The shocks were coming fast and hard. The criminals had upped their tactics. That’s when a man dressed up in scrubs appeared at the end of the corridor.

“How? One of the nurses do it?” I hissed so they couldn’t hear.

“No, their alibis hold up. Anyone could’ve slipped in, especially when the guard went for a bathroom break. Seized the opportunity. We’ll see what this guy can tell us, figure out who could’ve been milling around.”

We scrutinized everything about the man coming down the corridor. His gait, expression, basically whatever we could tell about him without talking to him first. Meanwhile, a camera recorded us from the corner.

“What about CCTV?” I asked as I pointed it out subtly.

“Blind spot right on Flynn’s corridor,” DCI Reid fired back, ready with the responses. “We could see who headed that way, and who came out again over a short period of time. Anyone who’s here for murder wouldn’t hang around too long. Trouble is, there’s many people doing the same thing.” He had sweat patches staining his shirt from the stress of the situation.

“Typical,” I tutted. “It’s never that easy.”

DCI Reid grunted. “Plus, they could’ve disguised themselves as anything. Cleaners, nurses… they’re smart. No way they would have walked in plain sight, it’s too risky.”

“They’re not holding back anymore, are they? Even more blood on their hands. All the more reason to get the bastards behind bars where they belong,” I said with determination.

“Aye. Agreed. How’s McCall holding up?” DCI Reid checked in, running his tongue across his yellowed, smoke stained teeth. Years of cigarettes and cigars, plus dodgy office coffee did that to us. Since last night, barely anything had changed with regard to that side of proceedings.

The man in scrubs took his time, checking clipboards and changing gloves, as though we had all day to wait around.

“Not well. Especially not after this news. She’s now blaming herself for Flynn’s death, saying she should’ve never made contact with him, or made Flynn share as many details about the criminals as we got,” I shared, recalling McCall’s discussion mere hours beforehand.

DCI Reid stood up straight as the man finally approached. “I did try to warn her. Still, it’s nobody's fault but the people who murdered him. Tell McCall we’re sorting out the broken window, it’ll be repaired by next week. I’ve stationed twenty-four-hour surveillance there too, in case the criminals try something else. We’ll be ready and waiting.”

“Will do, Guv. She’ll be relieved to hear that.”

“CID, I presume?” The man in scrubs finally mosied over and hazarded a guess. “I can tell by the way you guys stand and the heavy discussion I overheard just then. It’s all sort of… intimidating on purpose, to frighten guys like me,” he joked in a likeable manner.

“That’s right.” DCI Reid sharply inhaled and reciprocated the firm handshake. “And you are?”

“Christopher. I’m the guy who cleaned Flynn Jones up. No badge, unfortunately,” he added with a slight Jamaican accent. The lilt sounded similar to a melody. “I was told you’d want to take a look at him.”

“Please,” we said in unison.

“Follow me,” Christopher confirmed, leading us through their narrow corridors. He didn’t wait, so we had to jog slightly to catch up. “It ain't quite as exciting as CID, but we’re pretty close.”

“Yeah, well, we’re not that exciting. Trust me,” I scoffed. “What do you think happened to Flynn?”

“It’s hard to tell so early on,” Christopher specified and adjusted the hat covering. “I’ll send more details over in a report via email. But from what I can tell so far, it was a sort of ethylene glycol ingested into his body.”

The explanation was frightening enough, before all the facts were even available. “Hang on,” I frowned, having heard this before. “Isn’t that the stuff used for antifreeze liquids in cars?”

“Yeah, it can be found practically anywhere. Garages or shops even. Someone had probably laced Flynn’s drinks with the lethal combination. It’s practically unnoticeable, tastes like sweeteners,” Christopher said heavily.

Brutal.

“So anyone could be a suspect. From the canteen staff, to the nurses and even the locals. It’s that easily accessible,” DCI Reid cursed.

Another thought came to mind. “How long would it have taken for the effects to kick in? Until the substance killed him?”

“A few hours. A day. It’s hard to tell. They could’ve given him small amounts little and often, for all I know so far.” Christopher snapped the elastic on his white, plastic gloves.

“I guess the real question is, how many coffees did Flynn have since arriving here?” I asked rhetorically. He’d been hospitalized long enough to