“Guns and Roses, Appetite for Destruction shirt,” I circled Gavin’s stained top with a biro, grabbing their full attention. “I’d recognise it anywhere, big fan back in the day. Then, if we look closely. Gavin had a tattoo of a cross--”
“And a halo inked flush above,” McCall finished, peering in.
“It’s symbolism. The power of a single symbol. It’s the only thing linking these two murders together is the ideologies of the religious cross and their interpretations which go hand in hand.” My animated body language mounted to a new extreme.
“You’re suggesting our killer has a social trigger? A cue which sets him or them off?” DCI Campbell asked as he got to grips with my out-there idea.
“That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.” I threw my biro triumphantly.
“It may be so, but we still don’t have any real leads,” DCI Campbell shattered our high with grim reality.
McCall didn’t speak much, considering our viable options. She poked her head outside into the main office. “Ben?”
Her sudden call frightened him, and he spilt drops of tea all over his desk. “Sarge?”
“Where could you find those rings, shopwise? Anywhere local, or nearby?” McCall prodded, in the hopes she could jolt Ben’s memory.
His face screwed up attentively as he tried his best. “Hippie shops mainly. They sell a load of witchcraft nonsense too. My niece kept forcing me into the one in town. Wouldn’t let me escape.”
“Looks like we’ve found our first lead.” McCall spun around on her heel in victory, smirking in delight. “You coming, or not?”
“I’ve had my fun.” Campbell shook his head. “You two come back with something decent, or don’t bother returning,” he warned as he wagged his finger.
I grabbed my black winter coat from its strategically placed hook and swung it around my shoulder, all whilst on the move. We made sure to allocate time to pick up a much-deserved bacon sandwich from the station canteen for breakfast, oily and dripping with juices. McCall opted instead for a slice of toast and jam. A splatter of ketchup dropped onto my thumb, much to McCall’s horror at my messy eating. You can’t expect a hungry man to be delicate when eating his first piece of food in hours.
“You eat like a pig, Finlay,” McCall complained, chomping next to me. She wiped her hands down on a napkin and chucked it away into a nearby bin.
“Thank you.” I accepted her twisted compliment, too busy enjoying my food to care. I had always been a foodie, right from birth. “I sucked the nipple bone dry, during my toddler years,” I added for good measure.
“Yeah, well,” McCall stopped in her tracks to display her disgust, “I wouldn’t go boasting about that. You haven’t had that much action in years.” She tilted her head slyly at that. I was at a loss for words, so I displayed my reply with my fingers instead.
We were messing around like the good old times when we had fewer responsibilities. Good fun.
“Someone for you, Finlay,” McCall’s voice woke me from my inner thoughts, and I looked up.
In exactly the same place as the other night, Abbey Aston stood waiting by the fence. That vividly dyed hair could be seen from miles away, a homing beacon for my eyes. Having nowhere to put the rubbish, I diverted to shoving it into my pocket.
“Hey,” Abbey called out, wrapped up snug in a brown leather coat this time. I admired her curves as I walked up.
“Hullo,” I answered. Abbey waited for me to say something else, but nothing else would come out of my throat in time.
“Sorry, are you busy?” she asked, nodding towards where McCall watched us from the parking lot. I followed Abbey's gaze to see McCall sat on the car bonnet, gesturing at me to talk to the girl.
“Uh, yeah. A bit.” I stepped in front of Abbey to block her view of McCall.
“Oh. Right. Well, uh, I can go, if you would like? I only came to see if you fancied a catch-up, but it doesn’t matter.” Abbey’s rosebud lips smiled sullenly, and she decided to start walking away.
“No,” I called out and grabbed her arm to stop her. Abbey was shocked at my reaction. “I mean, no.”
From a short distance away, I heard McCall chuckling to herself.
“I usually finish work at five,” I told Abbey. “Well, call it six by the time I am out of the office and cleared away. Sometimes seven because of work that comes in. All-nighters are common too. We were supposed to have one last night but—” I heard McCall cough helpfully in the background. “Would you like to meet me after that?” I secretly crossed my fingers in my coat pocket.
Abbey stayed still and stared directly at me. I awaited an answer under her intense gaze whilst inside my soul slowly died. She clicked her tongue distractedly and swivelled on the spot.
“No.”
My heart sunk. The air dissipated from my lungs, and it felt worse than a slap in the face.
“I’m kidding!” Abbey laughed out loud and all her facial features scrunched up in amusement. She held onto my arm for stability, as her slight heeled boots would have caused her to lose balance otherwise.
What? I was easily confused when it came to women, and Abbey didn’t help that.
“What?” I managed to speak aloud, but Abbey laughed even louder. I had to wait until she was quite finished.
“I’m only messing about, grumpy.” She pouted at my expression as she teased me. “Yes, I’ll meet you afterwards. You’ve got my number.” Abbey raised her neatly plucked and shaped eyebrows in my direction as she started to walk away.
Of course, I’d completely forgotten about it. She had left the ball in my court, and I left her hanging first. Even though I forgot to call her, she still pursued me today. That’s a real woman. It took all of my restraint to be discreet when checking her out. Her walking figure hypnotized me. I’d never seen it from the back before. Very… nice.
Various officers milled about the parking area. One of them wolf-whistled at Abbey when she passed them. Instead of rising to the challenge, she turned back to shake her head in my direction at the cheek of it. I recognised the constable as a guy from our office department. He stomped over, smoking a cigarette and blowing smoke into my face, heavenly smoke. No matter how much I tried to stop smoking, my mind wasn’t up for the challenge of depriving myself so much.
“Sorry boss. Didn’t know she was your bird.” His accent sounded cockney, and I vaguely recollected a bunch of CID teasing him for it when he first arrived. He always popped out for a quick fag break whenever he wanted, purely a way to wriggle out of the tough work.
“Yeah, well,” I shrugged evasively, “give me one of them, and call it even.” That gained a stick of tobacco. “Light?” I requested and leaned forward to light my cigarette on the flame he held up. “Cheers.”
I puffed out a long line of charcoal ash and noticed the tight band in my lungs releasing. Oh heaven. After such a heart-pounding inducing run-in with Abbey Aston, a guy needed a smoke or two just to settle their heart rate back down.
“Oh no,” McCall leaned out of the open car door when I arrived. “You’re not bringing that in here. It’ll stink the interior out. The seats are fabric, and I’m not driving around a smoky, fried bacon smelling car for the rest of the week.” She brushed her curly fringe out of her eyes, and before she had a chance to kick me out, I clambered into the passenger seat and wound the window down. I stuck my head out of the window and puffed from there.
“Sorted.”
“You look like a dog. You smell like one too.” McCall turned her nose, then shook her head as we drove. “So, Abbey Aston. She gave you a fright and a half. Not many people see that side of you Finlay. I’m surprised you let a girl of her… nature in.” She struggled to place her words correctly, and my spine tingled unpleasantly.
“What nature?”
“You know?” she began. No, I didn’t know. “A renowned flirt. A tendency for… older guys.” McCall hated to break the news to me but clearly felt the issue was important.
“Are you c
alling me old?” My precious cigarette nearly dropped to the road with indignance.
McCall heaved a large sigh. “No, that’s not what I meant.” Her tone was filled with sounds of tiredness. “Finlay, be careful. Abbey could be after something else. You never know…”
“That’s exactly what I need. A girl to keep me on my toes,” I gripped the cigarette intensely as a serious demeanour washed over me. My tone changed to a softer and brutally honest one. “I want to feel… alive. She does that for me.” I dropped the cigarette outside and observed my fingers. They had a slight yellow tinge to them.
McCall mulled my words over quietly, digesting them.
“And I swear, if you tell anyone about that, I’ll personally kick you off the team,” I mock-threatened.
We curved a pathway into a tiny parade of shops. Random little shops which catered everything someone could need. A takeaway of both Indian food and Chinese, laundrettes and a charity shop displayed themselves proudly, shining through their grime. Another smaller shop backed onto it, full of hippy nonsense and decorative statues. Witchy pagan decorations hung up inside, reminding me of Halloween during winter.
“Never, sir.” She saluted in mockery and glanced over her shoulder at the plastic bag which contained the ring. “Right, let’s get this show on the road.”
“Wait for me.” I huffed and jogged over to catch up with the determined woman. Pieces of loose gravel came unstuck a few times, and McCall tripped due to her frankly inappropriate shoes for the occasion.
“Sometimes I really want to hit you. Can you stop being a control freak?” she moaned and heaved her shoe from a tiny hole in the ground. “I bet you were one of those sports captains at school, micromanaging everyone.”
“I played rugby,” I admitted for good measure.
“I bet you did.” McCall checked out my broad shoulders and nudged me comically. It brought a sliver of a smile to my face.
“McCall.” I stopped her from going further. “In here.”
The shop’s door lacked a bell, I realized as I led us inside. A strong smell smacked us in the face, hippy aromas and flowered scents. They shouldn’t mix but surprisingly complemented each other nicely. It made my brain feel fuzzy.
The shop attendant scanned us both up and down. We were not the type of people to shop there usually and stuck out like a sore thumb. The attendant’s piercings contrasted my entire being, mine drab and dreary compared to her colourful choices. The lighting consisted of lanterns only, which gave an atmospheric appeal to their shop.
“I love these places,” McCall gushed, touching everything ornate in sight.
I sniffed again, recognising their burning scent immediately. The shopkeeper, surprised at my sudden appearance at her till, kept her cool.
“What’s that smell?” I sniffed again, transported back to Laura’s house. That’s where I last smelled the strong scent.
“The incense?” the shopkeeper wondered, misconstrued as to what smell I was talking about.
“I don’t know.” I was clueless about that sort of thing. “Whatever’s burning now.”
“Yeah, incense. We have to burn it in the shop to entice customers into buying some. Want a box?” Her dark eyes glittered in hope.
“No, thanks.”
“Hm, you’re not the only one. Since stocking them, only a few people have brought some boxes. People prefer the fruity scents, not these overly strong flavoured ones. The boss won’t listen though, still ordered a couple hundred in.” She rethought her actions. “Sorry, I shouldn’t complain to you. What can I help you with?”
“DI Cooper. And that’s my colleague…” I tried to find McCall. She was the one tapping the noisy wind chimes non-stop. “DS McCall. I apologise on her behalf.”
The shopkeeper laughed before switching to a solemn expression. “We’re not in any trouble, are we? Our computer systems are all broken, but we’ve got proof of ingoings and outgoings. Hurt my hand writing them all down,” she explained, tapping a huge logbook.
“No, nothing of the sort,” I dismissed her concerns. “This may sound strange, but could I have a look at the incense that’s burning?”
Although my request was strange, the shopkeeper had heard worse.
“Do you want one straight from the box?” She offered to open a new box and hand over a fresh stick.
“No, the stick which is burning now,” I reiterated.
“Uhm, okay.” She cautiously brought over the heated burner. I had a look inside, to see purple ash decorating below the burning stick, loose powder falling from the burning stick.
I reached in, much to the shopkeeper's reluctance. “It’s hot,” she warned, in case I didn’t already know.
“I can see that.” I pointed towards the lit flame. My fingers dipped and retreated from the holder, covered in a fine powder, exactly as they did from Laura’s house when I rifled through the bin to find our ring. I rubbed my fingers together, traces of colour already staining them.
“McCall,” I shout-whispered, disturbing a few customers from their chilled shopping.
McCall drifted over, chewing her gum distractedly. The shopkeeper viewed us doubtfully, contemplating whether we were genuine professionals. We were a bit chalk and cheese and distracted easily.
“Can I be of any more service?” The shopkeeper’s smile wavered.
“Do you stock these rings here?” McCall spoke confidently, shoving the ring by the shopkeepers till.
The shopkeeper inspected the ring gently, nodding in approval. “We did. They all sold out recently. This would’ve been one of the last to go as we only had extremely small sizes or large ones left. They’re popular for Christmas presents, you see.”
“Would we be able to search through your logbook?” I requested politely, not caring for permission, I would’ve had a look whether she agreed or not.
“Go ahead.” She pushed it over on the wooden, imperfect desktop, aware of avoiding splinters.
McCall looked over my shoulder as I flicked through the logs slowly. Taking a napkin from the canteen from my pocket, I used it as a bookmark for the page with Laura’s death date first. Then, I moved backwards in the log to the date their new incense scent arrived and their last ring sold. It would be a rare occurrence for two people to buy the same two things in a shop this size, in between the same dates.
McCall caught onto my method and helped out, sifting through the many logged customers transactions, until we both pointed at the same one.
“Three days before Laura’s death, someone brought the last ring and a box of incense,” McCall repeated.
“Two of which were found at Laura’s flat.” I waved over the shopkeeper interacting with a customer deliberating over which ornament to purchase. “Would we be able to have your CCTV footage from the seventeenth?” I pointed to the array of cameras filming everyone.
“I told you earlier, our computer’s down,” she said regretfully. “All the video files were saved onto its internal hard drive.”
“Bugger,” McCall cursed.
“It’s getting fixed next week. I can call you when it’s done, if you like?” the shopkeep offered kindly.
McCall scribbled our office number down into their logbook as I tutted.
“Ideally, the sooner, the better, but that’s not your fault,” I told the shopkeep. “Anything helps in the long run. For now, can you remember who bought these?” I crossed my fingers. It wasn’t that long ago the items were purchased, after all.
The shopkeeper squeezed her eyes shut, humming in thought. “It was a guy, but there could be two people I'm thinking about. I see so many people each day,” she explained sincerely, flicking her hair out of her face. “Either he was wearing all black--”
I stole a glance at her customers. They were all dressed in black, gothic colours.
“Or a red hoodie with the hood up,” she finished.
“Old or young?” I blurted out, desperate to grab whatever we could get our hands on.
“Yo
ungish,” she reported with finality, certain of at least one fact.
“What about his shoes?” McCall rubbed her arm on mine, signalling an important fact I’d forgotten during our mad rush.
“Boots. Not anything special, though caked in mud. He left a whole trail of footprints for me to mop up for hours after. God only knows where he walked in from,” she mentioned conversationally.
Bingo.
Twenty-Five
“Finlay Cooper, don’t you dare go rushing off without me,” McCall demanded. We’d thanked our complying shopkeeper and were heading down to the church, presumably where Laura was last seen. “Absolutely everyone owns a red hoodie and muddy shoes at some point in their lives. We still don’t know anything else about the killer, not until the security footage comes back.”
“So I’ll ask around at the church. See if they noticed anyone of said description,” I persisted, marching well ahead of a breathless McCall.
“Why are you so desperate to prove yourself?” She shouted over Dalgety's brisk wind which only worsened.
“Because I have something to prove,” I called back over my shoulder. “I can do this.”
“Nobody thinks any differently,” McCall insisted, stumbling over a drain cover.
“Yes, they do.” I turned back to face McCall with unexpected resentment suddenly deciding to pour from my veins. “Georgina Ryder, for one. Secondly, I've heard our entire team talking behind my back, by the printer or in the canteen. Wherever I go, they talk about my ability as their detective inspector. My sister, I have to prove that I can protect her and every other innocent child and parent from harm's way. Because that’s my job.”
“It’s all of our jobs,” she countered.” You’re too selfish to see that we’re all in the same boat. Working, tirelessly to find these robbers, or killers, or whatever our next case ends up being.”
I shook my head. “You wouldn’t understand, McCall. You’re the people’s favourite. Friendly, conversational… unlike me. I’m miserable. Rude. Awkward. If I don’t wrap this up soon, the consequence rests on my shoulders. DCI Campbell put me in charge for a reason.”
The Devil's Due Page 22
