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

that’s all the signs of a leader. He’s everything I’d like to be, one day.”

“He is a good leader, as are you, so be yourself,” McCall said softly. “You’re already a good leader most of the time. Sure, you have some off days, but on the whole, we get the job done. Just look at how many crimes we’ve wrapped up,” she pointed out, reminding me that we'd gone through a lot as partners. “There’s something about DCI Reid, though. Like he hasn’t told us everything about him.”

“That’s because we’re at work. We’re a team, not friends,” I reeled off without thinking.

“Gee, cheers,” McCall took offence to the statement.

“You know what I meant,” I tutted. “You’re different. We’ve known each other for years, and you and DC Taylor are a couple. Of course, you’re going to know pretty much everything about us. Give DCI Reid a couple of years, and we won’t be able to stop him from talking. I wasn’t the chattiest man at first.”

“And now I can barely get a rest from you wagging my ear off,” she teased. “And as to what I was saying a minute ago…” Her tone turned sincere then. “Being confident in your own abilities is better than trying to be someone else.”

We walked step-in-step. “Perhaps you’re right too.” I gave her the satisfaction of hearing me admit that. “But either way, he’s someone to look up to. He gives us advice whenever it’s needed or a cigarette when we’re tired.”

“He gives you that stuff,” McCall exaggerated for effect. “You’ve been singled out.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No,” she replied immediately. “I’m glad you two get along. It sure helps us in the office; we actually get peace and quiet instead of arguing.”

The topic came to a natural standstill, so I switched it accordingly.

“Where’s Skip?” I wondered.

“Day off?” McCall guessed. “Maybe she’s on holiday?”

“She didn’t mention it,” I shrugged. The station wasn’t the same when she was away. “I’m sure she’ll tell us all about it when she gets back.” The cheeky woman was a notorious gossip and enjoyed talking too much, even if we were busier than normal.

McCall hushed, her shoes tapping against the floor.

“I know that face. What are you thinking about?” I pressed.

“Just everything.” She licked her dry lips, worry lines creasing her forehead. “It’s been a long day. The papers. The fact that two people died today. I don’t know, it was unexpected.”

“Well, It’s not over yet.” I tried to bear the bad news well. “I’ve a feeling things are about to get even longer,” I joked upon reaching the CID office, where decorators sheets covered the carpets, and ladders were erected all across the corridor. I’d need a dozen cigarettes just to deal with the racket of hammers, drills and crude jokes that came from the tradesmen. “After you. Ladies first.” I held the office door open for McCall politely.

She seemed suspicious at the small act of kindness but accepted the gesture, anyway.

The general CID hub was stacked high with paint pots, and two men in either corner painted away. Tony had foam earplugs in, barely realising we’d arrived and Rebecca had her head in her hands, pouring over a file. Oh, to have missed out on all the action. Cillian and DC Taylor were engaged in conversation, breathless from the walk in.

“Tony,” McCall gently tapped his shoulder, making the constable jump. He sheepishly took out the earplugs.

“Hi, sarge. Sir. I was miles away. Been banging my head in the rhythm to the hammers most of the day. They’re driving me crazy.” His sparse beard had remnants of crumbs stuck in there without realising.

I liked Tony, he was polite and respected the ranking system. He made easy chat and was a harmless man. He was on the lanky side, and often struggled to fit both legs under the desk or go through a doorway without ducking first, the very model of a friendly giant.

Rebecca Wilson, our new recruit, had caved and collected a dozen mugs up ready to make us all some tea or coffee. That wasn’t officially a part of her job description, though the new people always got pressured into tea duty. Her shiny, brunette hair and slimmer frame made her an attractive lady, one that Cillian could barely take his eyes away from. His smitten self disguised his crush with badly timed jokes and teasing.

If he wasn’t so unawarely clumsy and socially awkward, in an entirely separate manner to me, Cillian would be attractive to the opposite sex. The big shoulders and square jaw gave him a rugby player physique. Stocky and bold. Bold he may be, but Cillian’s personality didn’t match the outer shell.

“Good to have you all back,” Rebecca greeted us. “Can I get you tea or anything?”

“One tea, black and no sugar. Thank you,” I replied, grateful that she asked. Most recruits would moan about it, but she dealt with the task. I could see she was a professional and had a passion for the field. She did every task perfectly, and fit in well with the general atmosphere of the place. Though attractive and soft looking, Rebecca didn’t let people push her around; especially not men like Cillian.

Sometimes, his brash comments tended to get on her nerves, and she’d snap without meaning too. Cillian would listen to whatever she said, like a submissive puppy dog to their owners. Cillian did put his foot in it sometimes, with no clue on how to treat the opposite sex without seeming obnoxious.

“I’ll help carry them. They’re hot and--” He began to follow her into our adjoined staff kitchen.

“I can do it. I’ve got my own hands,” she assured, waving Cillain away.

“Right, yeah. Course,” he deflated into a bit of a sulk.

“I’ll have a coffee, love,” one of the decorators got involved, even though it wasn’t our duty to look after them.

“Firstly,” Rebecca turned to face the burly men, paintbrush in their hands and splatters upon their dirty overalls, “it’s ma’am, not ‘love’. I’m a constable. Secondly, as