Death in the Black Wood, Oliver Davies [short story to read TXT] 📗

hair was brown too, although that was a very inadequate word to describe all the sun-streaked hues running through it.

“Shay!” I moved to intercept him quickly. “Lose the scarf dammit. The glasses too! Christ! What are you thinking, turning up looking like that?”

He glanced at me, startled, through his glasses, and I saw his little ‘oh, shit’ moment before he hastily pocketed them and began to unwrap the scarf. It wasn’t his fault. Hiding his face was second nature to him, and he wouldn’t have given it a thought. Philips had uncoiled again as soon as he realised I knew the newcomer, but he was still staring at him murderously.

“Is he sick or just stupid?” he asked me, snarling.

“Neither, Sir, he always dresses like that in cold weather. This is Specialist Consultant Shay Keane.”

“My apologies, Inspector, I didn’t mean to startle you like that,” Shay said calmly. “I am truly sorry for your loss. You too, Sergeant Murray. I know Sergeant Gibson was a very close friend of yours.” The right words, but his tone and expression were tellingly colourless. Shay must be far more upset than he looked. Philips had managed to examine him by then, so he ducked his head again to take cover behind his fringe.

“You’re the drone guy,” Philips said accusingly, “Fuck! You had the bastard in your sights on Tuesday, and you fucking lost him!”

“It couldn’t keep up with the car.” Shay wasn’t being defensive; he was just calmly stating a fact. “Maybe, in a few years, we’ll be able to build ones that could. Whether or not we’ll ever be allowed to fly them is another matter entirely.”

There really wasn’t anything Simon could say in response to that. Later, when he was more himself again, he would probably regret this little exchange, but it took more than a little overwrought hostility to bother Shay Keane.

“Conall’s still upstairs?” Shay asked.

“He is, Mr Keane.” Conall must have asked him to come in person to examine the crime scene. How Davie Baird was coping up there I had no idea. He’d always got on well with Jackie. Those two had made a formidable darts doubles pairing on our work night’s out.

“Sorry, would you mind?” Shay asked once he’d folded his scarf up. I took it off him, and he produced a pair of gloves from his pocket, pulled them on, and disappeared inside.

“So that’s DCI Keane’s cousin.” Philips sat down on the doorstep again tiredly. “I guess I can see why he likes to hide his face. Cold-blooded fish, though, isn’t he?”

“I thought that too, at first, but it’s just his way of coping. He’s one of the good guys, Sir, and a very capable one too.”

He just nodded.

“I should have said something to you myself earlier, Sergeant Murray. I’m very sorry for your loss too. I know how tight you and Jackie were. She was always banging on about you.” Was. Everything would be past tense with Jackie Gibson now.

Neither of us felt inclined to talk any further, so we just sat, and stood, in mutual silence, each engaged in our own thoughts for the next twenty minutes until the police surgeon went up and, shortly afterwards, they carried Jackie’s body down and wheeled it away.

Glancing in at the sound of more footsteps on the stairs, I saw Conall and Shay coming down a few minutes later, but they didn’t emerge from the house. I decided to go in and see what they were up to.

“What’s he doing?” I asked Conall as Shay swept the living room with a little handheld device before moving on to do the same in the kitchen.

“Checking for hidden cameras or other devices. That’s a radio frequency detector. If anything in here is transmitting, he’ll pick up a signal.” Shay reappeared in the hallway then, and Conall looked to him. “Find anything?”

“Nothing in here. I still want to check the front and rear gardens though. I’ll do the back first.”

“Alright, we’ll see you out front when you’re done then.” Conall took me gently by the arm and led me out again, walking me to the far corner of the garden where we could talk privately. “How are you holding up, Caitlin?”

“Not well. I want that bastard dead, Conall. As long as he’s still breathing, I doubt I’ll ever sleep easily again.”

“After what he did last night? I wouldn’t give him a month in custody before he apparently commits suicide or meets with some sort of fatal accident. We just have to catch him first.” He sounded very confident of that. “Listen, Caitlin, I don’t want any of my people going anywhere alone until we’ve caught him. McKinnon feels the same way. Off duty or working, from now on, no officer moves around alone or sleeps in an otherwise empty house or flat. Everyone needs to team up.”

That made sense. I might even have expected it if I’d been thinking straight.

“My place is big enough for all five of you,” Conall continued, “if any of you would like to come and stay there. It’s up to you what you prefer to do and we’ll talk it over back at the station. The others will all be at Burnett Road in half an hour. McKinnon’s called every detective working these cases in for a meeting.”

“I think it’s wise to buddy up, but I really don’t like the idea of being chased out of my home by that sick piece of shit.”

“No, I don’t think anyone will. It’s a hell of a lot better than risking any repetitions of what happened here, though.”

I didn’t need to look at him to imagine what he was thinking. What if the killer had called at my house last night instead? Or Walker’s? Conall might be deeply shaken by this murder but he’d had no personal attachment to Detective Sergeant Jackie Gibson. It’s only human to feel more strongly about those you are close to than those you barely know. That he’d been struggling to control himself since