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

leaving us wiping them off. Just in case there was anything icky left from Flynn’s body on his gloves. “It’s been an interesting afternoon, I could do with some living company more often.”

“I sincerely hope we don’t have to show up here again. No offense, Christopher but I’d prefer fewer people getting murdered around the Bay,” I grimaced.

“Watch it, Inspector. I’m surrounded by a lot of harmful instruments here.” Christopher pretended to deliberate over a few. “What should we use first? The scissors, or?” He held up a shiny tool, complete with a sharp edge.

“That’s wrong.” I threw my hands up in mercy. “That’s our cue to leave. Thanks for the help.”

“A pleasure, Mr Cooper.” Christopher fake saluted and engrossed himself in his work. “And you, DCI Reid.”

DCI Reid bid farewell, long strides pacing well ahead of mine. He found a breakfast bar in his pocket, covered in a bit of fluff. He shrugged and ate it, anyway.

“Can’t be fussy when I’m starving.”

“How can you eat after looking at Flynn’s body? I need about half an hour to recover.” I gagged at the smell.

“You’ll be ready to eat by the time we get to the station then. I suggest you do because we’re now investigating a murder too,” DCI Reid stated grimly. “These are busy days, Cooper. Let’s hope we’re up to the challenge.”

17

The cafeteria was dull without McCall. Heck, the whole station was utterly dull without her. She would’ve been helpful to have around now. Thankfully, the sandwiches barely changed, although the stale bread wasn’t entirely distinguishable from the shade of Flynn’s dead body. That alone was mildly off-putting. I gave up with the action of forcing food down my throat and stuck to drinking their tea instead.

Tea never failed to make the best of a dire situation. Eating lunch alone at the cafeteria was something I hadn’t done in years. Usually, McCall would sit opposite me and chatter non-stop until I felt like screaming. It’s funny what you miss when someone’s gone or replaced.

It had reached lunchtime, and all the tables were full from raving constables or the higher ranks who remained clumped together in groups. Rebecca picked at some pasta, debating with Tony about certain case details. By the sad and sullen expression covering his youthful face, I knew McCall was also playing on his mind too.

The PCs were engaged in a spot of bacon sandwiches and boyish jokes. Ryan Shaw sat in the middle of them all, a spot of favouritism because of the injuries he’d sustained. He was struggling to pick up his morning roll with one hand and five fingers only.

My metal spoon clattered loudly against the china mug, although I was stuck too deep in my daydream to realise that I’d been over stirring it for the past five minutes or so.

“Sir?” DC Taylor towered over me, uniform a mess in comparison to his normal neat as a pin appearance. “I saw you were alone? Mind if I sit there?” He had a meal tray balanced between both palms.

I supposed the distraction could be welcomed.

“DC Taylor. Please do. The company would be nice.” I pointed to the empty chair. “It’s strange without McCall here, huh?” I stuck to our mutual conversation grounds. She and CID were the only thing we had in common.

“Very. I miss her, I know it sounds daft.” DC Taylor stabbed a pasta spiral with his fork. “Especially since she’s only been gone for a day.”

“Not at all.”

“DCI Reid told us all about Flynn’s body,” he mentioned, voice muffled from the food. “It’s terrible. These people don’t stop. I thought breaking into Kirsty's house would be more than enough to distract us from their trail.”

I took a sip of the now room temperature liquid. “Well, now the one remaining suspect can’t talk at all. There’s no one left to question anymore. They’re hitting us from all angles, severing our leads. How long have I been sitting here?” Time had run away from me.

“Nearly an hour, sir. It’s fine, the team knows what we’re doing,” DC Taylor assured me, pasta sauce on his chiselled chin. I was surprised he ate carbs at all, with his lean figure.

“You don’t have to call me sir on your break, DC Taylor.”

He scoffed in mirth. “And you don’t have to call me DC Taylor, sir, but you do. By the way, I got the CCTV tapes from the hospital. There’s nothing which jumps out as suspicious, nobody who shouldn’t be there.”

“Hm, keep combing through them. Search for anyone particularly shifty, no matter whether they’re staff or not. It’s the one thing left for us to analyse. Anyone carrying takeaway coffee near Flynn’s ward, or staff doing the food rounds.” If the substance that killed Flynn was passed through food and drink, that was the important detail to search for.

“Poison’s a nasty way of killing someone. No way of killing someone is particularly nice, but this seems--”

“Cowardly,” I finished for him.

“Yeah.” We exchanged an angry look. “Rebecca’s cross-referencing purchases with the local shops, for anyone who bought an item with the poison in, and we’ll note all the card details that come up. Then we can tell if they’ve used the card nearer to the hospital.”

“And by tracing their transactions, we’ll have a shorter list of suspects who were visiting today,” I got the idea. “Nice one.”

DC Taylor aimed his plastic water bottle at the bin and threw it in on the first attempt. “It’s a lot of work, but we’ll get there in the end.” He paused and seemed reluctant to ask the next question. “I presume McCall isn’t coming to the gala anymore? I know it’s the last thing to think about, but she hasn’t mentioned it.”

“Oh that bloody gala,” I grumbled. “I’d forgotten all about it.” Again. “I don’t think anybody’s particularly in the mood for it anymore, lest of all McCall.”

“No, especially if she isn’t there.” DC Taylor’s gelled hair slicked onto his forehead. “She’s the life and soul of the