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

alone. There are bad people out here at night” I fretted, hoping Mandy wouldn’t get herself hurt. That would be one call I’d hate to attend.

“Let them try. They’ve got nothing on me,” she teased, a real firecracker. “If we were afraid of everything bad in the world, we’d never leave home. I’ve lived through wars. Nothing as frightening or glorious as that. Met a dashing soldier.”

“You married a soldier?” I was taken by surprise.

“Of course not.” My comment tickled Mandy immensely. “You don’t marry soldiers, dear. They’re only good for one thing, if you get what I mean.”

“Yes, I think I do Mandy. Thank you.” I hid my heavy head in my hands, wishing that comment never escaped her wrinkled lips. I rubbed my biceps to keep warm as the temperature dropped steadily.

“He was my first love. Robert.” The elderly lady breathed a fresh sigh. “I read the news this morning. Don’t know why I bother, it’s always blooming depressing.” Mandy retrieved a flask of hot chocolate from her carry-on bag and offered me a cup.

“No, thanks,” I declined gently, wishing not to upset the kindly woman.

“I heard about that woman yesterday.” Mandy shook her head sadly. “Made all the headlines. Dreadful thing to happen, especially in my hometown. Never heard anything like it.”

“Times are changing, Mandy,” I spoke from my own brutal experience as I readjusted my leather gloves.

“You’re telling me. People are so cold nowadays. In my time, we would all be visiting our neighbours, watching children play happily in the street. No such thing as an innocent child in the eyes of the world these days.” Her cheeks wobbled when her indignance rose at the world.

“My parents would invite the milkman in to eat with us,” I reminisced, forgetting all about those times. “Granted, we children would always play harmless pranks on the poor milkman’s float, but he took it with a pinch of salt and scolded us accordingly.” I secretly prayed Mandy might have stuffed a packet of biscuits in that never-ending bag too. She caught me staring inquisitively at her bag.

“I know that look. The same one my son gives me and his little nippers too.” Mandy settled the bag on her lap, and sure enough, dragged out a packet of biscuits. She passed them to me with a twinkle in her eyes. “Have a go at them. Never leave the house without. Just in case I meet anyone half as special as you, DI Cooper.”

“Cheers, Mandy,” I thanked her and found it hard not to laugh. “Although I don’t think I’m half as special as you make out.” My argument with McCall weighed heavily on my mind. “I seem to upset people, mainly McCall. She’s the one person who supports me, and yet I still don’t let her help me.”

“And why’s that?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I’m afraid of being wrong, which I am half the time.”

“Then you have to start trusting people who are going to help you fix them. And try to stop being so stubborn.”

“I think you’re right,” I murmured.

Another figure stepped behind us, out on a night stroll, but I barely paid any attention. Mandy was the opposite and lifted her voice.

“Hello, Paul. Lovely evening, isn’t it?” The man didn’t reply, which caused me to glance up indignantly. She had spoken loud enough to be heard. “He must be in a rush tonight.”

“Who was it?” I asked.

“Paul Roberts.”

Never heard of the guy. I copped another look at the pacing bloke, heavy jacket covering most of his body. He had a red hood up, even though there was no chance of rain tonight. His shoes were big and clunky and almost tripped him up a couple of times.

“Walks here most nights,” Mandy continued to explain. “I see him sometimes. He came by my office the other day for a catch-up. Poor guy.”

“Why’s that?” I swallowed an abundance of Garibaldi crumbs.

“His wife, Linda, died a few years back. I invite him over for tea whenever he wants to talk. A lot of people around here haven’t bothered to keep in touch with him after she died. He used to be a priest at the church, but he became too frail to cope with their full-time duties,” Mandy mentioned vaguely. “He's probably upset about the papers this morning.”

“Why, did he have a full-page spread too?” I commented sarcastically.

“He knew that woman who died,” Mandy repeated. I bit into a Garibaldi distractedly. “It was only yesterday he spoke to her.”

The biscuit crumbs mushed in my mouth, and when swallowed, they expanded to twice their size. “He spoke to Laura yesterday?”

“Why yes, I saw them. Just along there.” She pointed down the waterline, nearer the direction of the sailing club.

Was this Paul the last person to see Laura alive?

“Sammy let me go home early. I came straight here from the club with a packed lunch and watched the sunset over the bridge.” Mandy sniffed as a result of the cold air.

“Could you hear what they were saying? Where did they go?” I urged Mandy to focus.

“No, they were too far away. It looked serious, though. They went back in that direction.” Mandy pointed again in the opposite direction. The opposite direction of the school and church, in the direction of Laura’s house.

I didn’t hesitate, scaling the bench without so much as an explanation. My feet thundered, trying to catch up to the man.

“I see how it is,” Mandy called out, shaking her head. “Always rushing off. Trust in good people, DI Cooper!”

I knew she wasn’t aware of the importance of those details she spilt, but I could kiss Mandy… on the cheek, of course.

I wasn’t trained to run distances, but once I had a mission ingrained into my head, there was no stopping me. All my determination, passion, fury and pride spurred me on, shadowing the route Paul took away from Mandy and me. His footsteps were evident, a mixture of churned up mud, gravel and muddy sand all in one. Paul hadn’t gotten