The Devil Among Us, Ramsay Sinclair [black books to read .txt] 📗

party. I was thinking about visiting her whilst you guys are away at the gala if that’s alright? Thought I’d better ask, as it is your home after all.”

I remembered what McCall told us that morning.

“I think she’d rather be alone,” I shared and pitied the downcast young man. “She told us earlier that she doesn’t feel herself. That she’d rather you see her when she’s feeling better and not quite so... miserable.”

DC Taylor’s brows furrowed. “I don’t care about that. Surely that’s my job, to comfort her?”

“I know, but McCall’s stubborn,” I reminded him. “She cares what people think about her, you know that. Let her wallow for a while, it’s nothing against you. She said she’ll phone and keep in touch either way.”

Talk about shooting the messenger. I hated being stuck in the middle of relationships, handling my own was bad enough. It reminded me of the way my parents would make me share information between the two of them when I was a wee lad.

“I just don’t want to get pushed away, that’s all,” DC Taylor explained.

“You’re not. Trust me, McCall’s sort of crazy about you. Just don’t ever tell her I said that or I’m afraid she’ll hit me… hard.” I could already imagine the pain. McCall hit hard and without mercy when angry.

We shared an honest grin.

“Either way, I’ll give the gala a miss.” Taylor shrugged, bright eyes fixated on the food. “I’ve been doing some research of my own into the electrical robberies. Seeing what the correlation was between them. The only things I could find were that the houses our planted phones were stolen from, were mainly located on their own. They targeted places easy to break into.”

“They were sensible then. Kept out of plain sight.”

“Exactly. It’s as though they nicked stuff for the sake of it. It’s not exactly the heist of the year. It’s lazy robberies,” he expressed vividly.

“It’s too dry. Too meticulous… too perfect. These people knew what they were doing. They’ve planned this for a while now, it’s obvious. Every inch of their plans is covered or pasted on top of. There’s got to be one link between all of them, something to expose their seedy plans. I hate cowards.” I seethed and hit the table to emphasise how I felt.

“Well, this doesn’t sound like a cheery, lunchtime conversation,” a snappy voice interrupted us. The superintendent. “That’s a good thing, I’m not a fan of frivolous topics like the weather. It’s all small talk. Can I join?”

He barely ever emerged from his office and certainly didn’t sit with officers for lunch.

“Uh, of course.”

We budged over accordingly, not quite brave enough to revolt against his wishes. His tall and slim figure collapsed onto a low seat. With matching white hair and brows, it wasn’t hard to see he’d done this job for too long. The superintendent kept his clothes dry cleaned and starched to perfection. His head was bald, otherwise not a singular hair would be out of place either.

“You’re wondering what I’m doing here?” He read our minds. That was a perk of doing our job. Reading body language became second nature, a talent. “I thought I should interact with people a bit more. I’m tired of eating on my own, it’s not much fun. And the truth is, the station is a much more welcoming place to be since it's had a fresh lick of paint. Before it was all grotty and… dirty.” He shuddered, and I assumed he was something of a germaphobe.

We were one and the same. “I can agree with that.” I nodded curtly.

“Also, I heard you discussing DS McCall. She’s a good lady. Efficient. Smart. As her partner, I’m sure you're feeling the loss. Your team works hard, it doesn’t go unnoticed.” The superintendent gave us a rare compliment as he grabbed the salt shaker.

“Yes, Sir,” DC Taylor and I said at the same time, earning ourselves a strange look. He must’ve been referring to me only as McCall’s work partner as opposed to her personal relationship with DC Taylor.

“Very much so,” I continued, and DC Taylor blushed at the mix-up.

“DCI Reid has expressed his concern over the welfare of your team. I came to make sure that you’re all being as careful as possible,” the superintendent bit into a chip. Although meticulous in appearance, he wasn’t the greatest eater. Messy, to be precise. He had a napkin to hand at all times, for the salt from the fried delicacy dropped onto his lap.

“Aye, sir. We’re trying.” I’d finished my tea a while ago. Now I was simply sitting there without means of escape. “We don’t want to give the criminals the satisfaction of knowing they’ve won.”

“Rightfully so.” He grinned at my bold statement. “That’s what we’re here for, after all. DCI Reid cares about you all. That much is obvious. He’s efficient and I must say the station looks spectacular.”

“Sir?” DC Taylor quizzically asked. I wasn’t sure what the superintendent was referring to either.

“Of course. He didn’t tell you, did he? Reid’s too modest for that.” The superintendent wiped his fingers and found some hand gel in his jacket. “He recommended those decorators who tidied the place up a bit. Paid for it too, all out of his own pocket.”

“He did?” I gasped. “That must’ve cost quite a bit. Why?”

“Said he wanted you guys to have a reward for the hard work recently,” the superintendent shared honestly. “He’s right, and the station is a pleasant place to be now. It’s bright enough to get me out of the office and down here after too many years. Even after all that, he’s still running the gala towards police funding. Is there anything your DCI wouldn’t do?”

DC Taylor was equally shocked. “Seemingly not, Sir. He’s a very forgiving and charitable guy.”

“That he is. The most efficient DCI your team has had.” Specks of crumbs littered the tabletop as he talked.

“Whilst we’re on that topic,” I noticed the clock ticking, “I’d better get to work before