DARIAN SAT at his desk at the window of the office and stared out into the street. Gallowglass was nowhere to be seen. The Cummins case was in the bag, there was no more intimidation for Corey’s man to throw around, no more unwelcome investigation to silence. It didn’t feel right, but it didn’t have to. A man was guilty and that man was going to pay for it, so the job was done.
Sholto was at his desk, writing out an update for Glendan about the activities spotted at the Murdoch warehouses. There was little to report, but he could spool almost nothing out into six or seven pages and make himself look terribly busy. Darian did much of the work on Murdoch, but Sholto wrote the reports. Had it been left to Darian the wording would have been unhelpfully honest, telling Glendan there was no criminality to find there. Sholto kept the possibility alive because that was what the client wanted, and getting what they wanted would persuade them to extend the investigation.
The stairs leading up to the office were bare wood and Sholto’s desk being next to the door made it easy for him to hear anyone approach. That was deliberate; he didn’t like people sneaking up on him. Occasionally he would hear what he thought were steps and then nothing would happen. That always got the same response, a pause to listen to silence and then, “Must have been Bodach Gaoith.”
This time, at half past midday, there was a knock at the office door following the footsteps. Sholto got up and answered it because Darian appeared to be dreaming. It was DC Alasdair MacDuff. Sholto recognized him.
“What can we do for you, Detective?”
MacDuff entered the office and stood midway between the two desks looking uncomfortable. He was young, but he didn’t have the brashness Darian would have expected from a protégé of Folan Corey.
MacDuff said, “We’ve charged Randle Cummins with murdering Moses Guerra and stealing money from him. We thought it would be right to tell you. Chances are you’ll be called as witnesses, so you’ll have to explain how you got involved in the whole thing. I don’t know if that’ll be difficult for you.”
Sholto paused while he tried to identify sarcasm. His detector wasn’t great but there was none to find. MacDuff wasn’t Corey. Sholto said, “It’s good news that you’ve charged him, good, good news.”
“He hasn’t confessed yet, but that might just be a matter of time. The evidence is piling up, especially the money side of it. It all fits, so we’ll get a conviction.”
“Well, it’s good of you to come round and tell us, we appreciate that.”
“Yeah, well, you were involved so…And you should expect to be called as witnesses. Anyway, I’ll let you get on with your work. I’m going to pick up lunch at the takeaway downstairs.”
MacDuff left and Sholto looked across at Darian. He had turned back to the window, looking out at Cage Street and the few shoppers walking by, mostly using it as a shortcut to somewhere better.
Sholto said, “Go on then, tell me why this isn’t good enough for you.”
Darian turned and looked at him. He had to answer Sholto’s frustration. “He seems guilty, but a lot of people aren’t what they seem. I don’t think Cummins has the wit or the fury to kill, not even with the wolves scratching at his door.”
“You don’t know him well enough to know that. And he confessed.”
“Not to anyone that matters, and not sober. He confessed when he was drunk and trying to sound like a big man in a private conversation. We’ve both heard plenty of people talking crap when they’ve got the drink splashing around inside them.”
“The money, Darian, the money. How does he pay off that stonking great debt to those thugs without stealing it from the man he killed?”
“I know. The money.”
“You’re judging a book by its cover. Cummins is a small man in every way. You want a killer to be big and impressive and striking because murder is all those things, but maybe he did just go round there to mug Moses and things got out of hand, he panicked and pulled the knife. It’s nice to think that the man you helped catch was a killer who might strike again and so you’ve saved someone by stopping him, but getting justice for Moses will have to be enough.”
Sholto was often smarter than he sought or was given credit for. He could be wimpish and old-fashioned and he often seemed motivated by a desire to make as much money as possible by doing as little real work as possible, but the embers of the fire that had pushed him to be a cop in the first place were still warm. Thirty years of chasing after the worst of Challaid had given him instincts worth following.
Darian had to get out of the office, so he went to the south docks again to watch the warehouses. There was nothing to see, but he didn’t care. Darian wanted to stare into space.