Page 26 of Better the Devil

Tyler’s face paled. ‘Oh, God, no,’ he croaked. ‘Not Heather Filson?’

‘Please welcome, DI Heather Filson,’ Logan announced, gesturing to the door.

Everyone turned. Everyone waited.

Nothing happened.

‘Come on, what do you think I am, a bloody sadist?’ Logan asked. He raised his voice and raised his mug at the same time. ‘Right, in you come.’

The door creaked open. A head of grey hair appeared, wearing a slightly bewildered smile.

‘Was that my cue, was it?’ asked former Detective Inspector Ben Forde. He clocked the paper plate on Tyler’s desk. ‘And is that biscuits I see?’

It took a good ten minutes for the excitement to die down after Ben’s arrival. Ten minutes of shaking hands, and laughter, and questions about how things had been, and how life was treating the former DI.

This was despite the fact it had been less than a week since most of them had last seen him. They’d all gone for lunch in the café out back that he now ran alongside hispartner, Moira Corson.

Quite how far that partnership went, and in which directions, none of them knew for sure. Nobody liked to ask, either, because that would mean having to consider the implications, and none of them was ready for that.

Tyler went to make more tea and coffee without being asked, though his attempts to secure more biscuits were met with failure and disappointment.

By the time he returned, everyone was sitting in a semi-circle around Logan, who stood by the Big Board, tapping his watch.

‘Come on, son, we’ve no’ got all bloody day,’ Jack said.

‘Aye, come on, Tyler,’ Sinead urged, fighting back a grin. ‘Chop chop.’

The detective constable bowed repeatedly in apology, then passed out the hot drinks. Ben took a big, noisy slurp of his, then closed his eyes, savouring the moment.

‘Tastes like pish,’ he remarked, then he wrapped his hands around the mug and sighed. ‘Man, it’s good to be back!’

CHAPTER ELEVEN

They started with the glass.

As of yet, Palmer’s team had been unable to identify its origin. The majority of the pieces had been found in the same spot, atop the mud beside the driver’s side door, while a few others had been discovered between three and twelve feet away from the front of the vehicle.

They were around three millimetres thick, and together looked like a cluster of uncut gems. Tests were being run on them to try to find out more, but as of that moment, all they knew was that it was tempered, given how it had shattered, and that it hadn’t come from the victim or his vehicle.

‘What’s Palmer’s best guess?’ asked Sinead.

The silence that followed was eventually broken by the sound of Ben Forde gently clearing his throat.

‘Oh! Sorry!’ Hamza jumped into life like someone had just put a penny in his slot. He flipped through a stack of notes, only for DC Neish to come to his rescue.

‘That’s on my handout, actually,’ Tyler said, looking far too bloody pleased with himself. ‘He’s playing his cards close to his chest on it. It’s the sort of thing you find in shower screens,coffee tables, that sort of thing. Best guess right now is a side window of another vehicle.’

Sinead ran her tongue across the front of her teeth, considering this. ‘There’d be a lot more of it, wouldn’t there? Those things shatter everywhere.’

Tyler looked down at his printout, like the answer might be written there. When it wasn’t, he shrugged.

‘I don’t know. I’m just saying what Palmer told me.’ He set the paper down on the desk. ‘He might’ve said other stuff, but he’s quite hard work, and I struggle not to completely tune him out.’

No one in the room could argue with that sentiment.

‘She’s right enough. About the amount. I’ve smashed a fair few car windows in my time,’ Dave Davidson announced. The questioning looks from the others made him hurriedly clarify. ‘Aye, not breaking into them. My own cars, I mean. Crashes, and that.’

‘That’s it, then. I’m never driving with him again,’ Tyler said.