The Devil's Due: A Cooper and McCall Scottish Crime Thriller by Ramsay Sinclair (nonfiction book recommendations TXT) 📕

presume you are in charge of the keys for your shed, Mandy?” I pointedly shuffled toward the vivid array of keys hanging up.

“Always. We get plenty of families using the shed throughout the summer and a few in the winter. People are always in and out of there for various reasons. Some boys on the bay keep their ropes in there, as well as a few bat-and-ball games for the kiddies.” That news wasn’t exactly comforting.

“Who used it last?” McCall said.

“I told you, dearie. I haven’t been here for the last week. Could have been anyone. Plenty of people know the code. Most people who come for a catch up let themselves in here.” Mandy leant back in her chair and folded her hands. “It’s two, double-six, nine.”

“I see what you mean about giving it away easily,” McCall quipped.

“I’m still waiting for the key back though. Whoever used it last still has it,” Mandy continued, distracting herself by eating. McCall and I shared a knowing glance.

“What about CCTV?” McCall brainstormed aloud, us both adding to the train of thought now and again.

“Too expensive for us, love,” Mandy chattered away. “Our profits have been disappearing for a while now. The majority of us work for free, as a favour for Sammy. He’s helped us all out in one way or another, and now it’s our turn to repay him. Nobody here wants to see his business go under. Even in his time of crisis, he’s raising money to help pay for Johnny’s wedding, one of the lads who helps out.”

CCTV tended to be too expensive for small clubs like these. Which is how people always got away with committing crimes in or right by them. Mandy knew the ins and out of the club and yet she couldn’t figure out any leads for us to follow.

“Thanks for your help, Mandy,” McCall slapped her thighs suddenly, the polite way of suggesting we were going to head off. I agreed with McCall. There was obviously nothing new about to jump out at us.

“Oh, do stay a while longer,” Mandy tried to tempt us with another biscuit. “I have enjoyed this. It’s always nice getting to know the locals, especially the handsome ones.” She patted my arm, but as sweet and unharmful as Mandy’s nature seemed to be, she couldn’t help us out any more than she already did.

“Any news from Smalls?” DCI Campbell pondered aloud as we clambered into the Volvo.

“Dry as a brick,” I tutted, staring out the window. I didn’t bother belting up, McCall would drive safely enough.

“Same as everyone else at the club,” the Guv spoke with gusto.

“She did mention the keys hadn’t been brought back or returned yet,” McCall shared, a glimmer of hope evident in her voice, but before I could say anything, my phone vibrated on the seat, diverting my attention away. I picked it up, wishing that those two in the front could pipe down so I could hear better.

“Hello?”

“Sir? It’s DC Taylor. Again.” His voice contained an element of discomfort, probably hearing from McCall that I witnessed them out together.

I cleared my throat, letting some words form themselves. “Yeah. What’s up?”

“The department got a call, sir.” DC Taylor sounded excited. “A guy was pulled in the other night, the same night Gavin was murdered, arrested for possession of an offensive weapon. I requested a record of anyone in the last two weeks arrested on possession, and he stood out most.”

“Why’s he so important?” I said.

“He ran in Gavin’s friendship groups. His phone is in police possession, and when we asked him, he had no alibi for the eighth.” DC Taylor had done well, and he knew it.

“Guv,” I pulled the phone away from my ear, “we’ve got a new lead.”

20

“Nathan Smith,” DC Taylor debriefed us three upon entering our station. He’d waited patiently for us and handed over a critical piece of potential evidence to DCI Campbell, who led our small group back to his office, where he’d already requested data encryption devices to be placed.

“What about him?” I asked impatiently. In recent years, many forces found it necessary to invest in phone hacking equipment, due to a change in the way criminals utilize technology. Many criminals gambled on the fact that our technology would be too outdated to hack an iPhone.

“Busted twice before and convicted of drug dealing,” DC Taylor began a long-winded explanation. “Released, obviously. Police pulled him in a couple of nights ago for possession of an offensive weapon. It wasn’t until I searched recent arrests logged at the station that I found Nathan Smith—”

“And you recognised his name from our research of Gavin's friendship group,” McCall interrupted.

“What weapon was he found with?” I licked my cracked lips, intrigued.

“One small pocket knife,” DC Taylor revealed, along the lines of what our pathologist believed killed Gavin Ellis.

“What about the eighth of December? You mentioned that earlier.” DCI Campbell flicked through a couple of forms an officer had shoved in his arms upon arrival.

“We pulled him in for further questioning. Pressed specifically for details about Gavin, and an alibi.” DC Taylor’s expression changed to a particularly pained one. “He kept repeating ‘no comment’ and asked for a reliable lawyer,” DC Taylor exhaled.

“And we gave him one?” I groaned involuntarily.

“It’s called playing by the book, Cooper. Granted, not all of us enjoy it,” DCI Campbell pointedly stared, “but it’s necessary. Our record needs to be squeaky clean when all this business goes to court. Capiche?”

“Capiche,” I found myself repeating by mistake but quickly cleared my throat in realisation. “Understood.”

DCI Campbell flung open his office door. “Inside, the lot of you.”

We didn’t have much choice, nor time to argue with an instruction like that. Although both his son and wife taught him how to use an iPhone, DCI Campbell still struggled with even the simplest technological tasks. Pieces of junk were strewn everywhere from people shoving evidence, statements, and technology wherever they felt like putting it. DCI Campbell grimaced at our expressions.

“I know, I know,”