The Devil Among Us

by Ramsay Sinclair

  “The gala.”

  “The gala, exactly,” she smirked in satisfaction.

  21

  Saturday couldn’t roll around fast enough. McCall had assisted me by sorting out a tuxedo to wear and hair gel strong enough to tame my wild locks. Abbey, however, had been locked up in the room all afternoon and refused to let me see her until she’d finished getting ready.

  “Abbey,” I knocked on our bedroom door, knowing that if we didn’t leave soon, we’d be late and miss the opportunity to talk to DCI Reid before anyone else. “Are you nearly ready? You’ve been in there for hours…” I faltered off as she opened the door.

  As cheesy as it sounded, she was absolutely breathtaking. A silken, red material clung to her hips and then cascaded to the floor. The neckline displayed her particularly endearing collarbone. I’d always been attracted to them, it was an unexplainable phenomenon of my nature.

  “I’m ready, so you can stop being so impatient. Knocking a thousand times over didn’t really help with the efficiency, by the way. It only made me smudge my eyeliner twice.” She blazed ahead and found a fur coat that apparently complimented the outfit. Curls cascaded and grazed her bare shoulders, spilling out from the high bun she’d fashioned. Around twenty bobby pins were disguised and held the style together, although she kept checking that they hadn’t fallen out.

  One thing I’d noticed about living with a woman is the amount of hair they shred. I was forever discovering those same hair clips everywhere. Clogging up the shower drain, stuck in the hoover or even on the windowsills. Twenty years ago petty things like that wouldn’t bother me, and I’d be grateful to even have a girlfriend.

  Now, the smaller things in life seemed more pressing.

  “Dressing for a mission isn’t easy, you know,” she called from the bathroom, cleaning up lipstick and spraying a spritz of perfume. Basically, she was faffing.

  I tried hard to stop looking at the clock. “It’s not called a mission.”

  My correction fell on deaf ears, for she wasn’t even listening. “You guys get it easy. Throw on a suit and have a shower. That’s it.” At last, she began to retreat downstairs where McCall complimented her appearance.

  “Well, I suppose.” I followed her down the staircase, finding the suit stiff and the waistband of my smartest trousers a bit too tight.

  “Well, don’t you look dandy, Finlay Cooper.” McCall grinned and tried to wind me up on purpose, knowing how uncomfortable I was attending posh events.

  Dandy?

  “That’s a word I haven’t heard in a while.” I shook my head in mock contempt and slicked my hair back. It kept falling over my forehead and playing up.

  Our small talk was disguising the turmoil and apprehension we each felt towards tonight’s proceedings. I could tell by Abbey’s nervous laughter and McCall’s drumming on her thighs that they both felt on edge. I too had a habit of rushing around when I felt tense.

  “Keeps it exciting.” McCall shrugged, propped up against the sofa cushions. “You two look like a very lovely couple when you make an effort, Finlay.”

  Groaning, I shoved my wallet into my trousers. This was, after all, a charity event. “Don’t entertain it, McCall. I beg of you. She’ll force me to wear this every week if she could.”

  “Yup,” McCall settled down. “I’m an adult, Finlay, you don’t have to worry.”

  Abbey blushed and tied up her precarious heels, whilst I fiddled with my tux.

  “It all feels a bit elaborate,” I complained and earned yet another tut from my girlfriend. “But,” I attempted to save face, “it’s necessary to go and there will be drinks waiting for us.”

  Abbey scoffed at my pessimistic self. “Always the optimist. If this wasn’t all about work, then tonight could’ve been a nice break for all of us. It’s a shame.” Her face fell, and a pang of guilt struck me. She deserved a nice night out, with nothing to worry about. I vowed to give her one after all of this was straightened out.

  Even McCall didn’t refute what could have been. “You should go before it gets any later, but be careful, both of you, and remember what you’re dealing with here.” The concern was evident in the softness of her voice. Usually, she’d sound stern and wouldn’t take any nonsense from me.

  “Noted. Got everything?” I secretly crossed my fingers that we had.

  Abbey nodded, doing the last rounds and grabbing totally unnecessary stuff she wouldn’t even need. I had to put my foot down and pull her by the arm out the front door.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” McCall yelled out, leaving Abbey chuckling.

  The lock clicked as I pulled the door shut, leaving us in a blanket of fog, the sort in which you could barely see more than a yard in front of you. A dusting of goosebumps covered our arms, and whispers of fog evaporated into the darkened atmosphere. We were glad to have had the foresight to bring coats. With my heavy footsteps and Abbey’s heels clicking on the uneven pavement, the echoes were much louder than our ragged breathing.

  “How are you feeling?” I wondered as we linked arms. Because she was much smaller than I, she dragged me down slightly with each step.

  Her teeth chattered in the chill and she replied truthfully. “Nervous. But I’ll be fine.”

  “Correction.” I grazed her cheek with my lips, which was hard to do whilst walking. “We’ll be fine. All we have to do is to be ourselves. We want to blend in and not make it obvious that we know their secret,” I explained for the hundredth time over. It was an obsessive thing I did when anxious. “DCI Reid was talking about meeting you before, so that’s how we’ll start, with a round of introductions. Once we get them alone somehow, we can dig deeper.”

  I looked behind me to ensure nobody was around to hear. Since witnessing what was stored on that tape, we’d all been increasingly paranoid. Abbey did the same.

  “Stop doing that, it frightens me.” She squeezed my arm. “And then?”

  “Sorry, I can’t help it.” It felt like people were either following or watching us from afar. “All we’ve got to do is get DCI Reid drunk and comfortable. Make easy conversation, keep them drinking--”

  “And smooze his wife,” Abbey interjected.

  “You’ve got it.” We rounded the street corner and passed the park in which a few teenagers were hanging out and smoking stubs of leftover cigarettes; ones that people of a legal age had thrown on the floor. It was all a wee bit disgusting. “Maybe we should do this more often.”

  “Do what?” she pouted.

  “Go undercover together. Like Sherlock Holmes and John Watson,” I said, trying to take my mind off DCI Reid for a couple of minutes. “It’s kind of exciting, especially when you’re dressed in red like that.”

  “Oi.” Abbey playfully whacked me. “Keep your eyes on the target for tonight. You’re nervous too.” Her almost cat-like eyes scrutinised me.

  “Yeah,” I exhaled, finding it hard to lie to her face. “How could you tell?”

  “I think it was the compliment that gave it away.”

  I rolled my eyes but smiled too. “Thank you for agreeing to help tonight. Especially since McCall couldn’t be there instead. I haven’t ever done something like this without her.”

  Abbey slipped her small hand in mine and squeezed gently this time. “Whatever’s going on at the station has to be put to a stop. I’ve seen the damage it’s doing firsthand to our friends. You’re an honest man, and I know you feel betrayed, even though you won't admit it aloud.”

  Finding it easier to answer in silence than reply with a physical answer, the melodic notes of brass band music echoed from a few streets away. It announced our destination before it even came into sight. A few dozen smartly dressed officers and their partners came into sight, cutting through the fog. They headed in the same direction for the gala, a bunch of whom I barely recognised in such expensive suits. We were used to seeing them in crumpled, aged suits or proper uniforms.

  For every new face I saw, suspicion riddled my mind and I
couldn’t help but wonder if it was they’d been threatened too. If they’d been involved in DCI Reid’s corruption.

  A few of them greeted me, with polite sir’s or hullo’s, to which Abbey glimmered with pride. Such an effort made by the force had never been witnessed in all the many years of our station. We’d switched out the dim bars and pints of beer for posh wine and music, for one night only.

  Chalkboard signs pointed towards the decked up hall, with hand-drawn arrows showing us in the right direction, even though the hordes of people surging into the community hall was a giveaway. Instead of kids and teens hanging around by the park, there were sergeants and constables alike, all dressed to the nines. Therefore, the hoodlums of the bay had made sure to stay as far away from here as possible.

  “Do I look alright? My hair’s not ruined, is it?” Abbey fretted fearfully as we joined the crowd, ducking underneath a balloon arch which already seemed to be deflating.

  “Not at all,” I convinced her before I marvelled at the building. If the outside was impressive, the inside was elaborate by any means. It had been transformed from a dusty, old sports hall into a place for dancing.

  Silk curtains hung down each wall, covering up the windows and grotty paint to create a cascade effect of fabric. It was atmospherically pitch black in there, apart from a few matching golden spotlights, table lights and stage lights too. Our station’s blue colour scheme was also prevalent in every aspect of the decorations, from the tablecloths and the stage backdrop. The brass band stood tall, playing from head to toe in crushed velvet suits with polished, golden instruments.

  Classy was the word I searched for, something I wasn't familiar with.

  “Expensive taste,” I noted and had to shout over the music for Abbey to even hear. “But then again, he’ll have money to spare now.”

  The noise was overpowering from the conversational crowds and a box was suddenly thrust under our noses. A constable rattled the tin of money around pointedly. “All donations required, it’s all being given towards police funding. New equipment, yadda, yadda…” The constable listed all the reasonings off, seeming increasingly bored with his talk and staring wistfully at the bar.

  “Uh, right.” I dug deep into my pockets, finding a couple of pounds to spare for both me and Abbey alike.

  “Robbing thieves, aren’t they?” Someone attracted us from behind after the donations officer had stalked to harass some other new arrivals. “I spend enough time and money in that place without them stealing more.” We spun around simultaneously to see Cillian shaking his head, a pint in his hand.

  For a posh event, he hadn’t bothered to get himself dolled up too much. He’d changed into a different brown suit that was identical to his office one, which clashed awfully with his brunette mop of hair. He must’ve attempted a new style, for pieces and strands stuck up randomly in alternate directions. It didn’t seem to bother him much.

  “M’lady,” Cillian bowed to Abbey. He took her hand and kissed it passionately on purpose.

  “Lay off it, Cillian.” I batted him away lightly. “It is a charity event. That usually entails spending a bit of money.”

  “Eh, calm down, Sir. It’s just a joke,” he said cooly, trying to act suave in front of our female company. He failed miserably.

  “It’s always a joke with you, Cillian.” Abbey nudged my ribs with a pointed elbow, telling me to be on my best behaviour.

  “Are you having a good time?” I rectified myself, and Cillian seemed glad that I’d spoken to him pleasantly. It was an unusual occurrence between us two.

  “Yeah. It’s alright, I suppose. Where there’s beer, it’s always lively.” Whilst we were speaking, Cillian kept glancing elsewhere. Following his wistful stare, it led straight to Rebecca. She was already dancing with a random partner, golden dress shimmering as they twirled around lightheartedly.

  “You like her?” I made light conversation.

  “No,” he denied it and sipped the foamed beer. He was one of the few people there with a pint.

  “Yes, you do,” Abbey chimed in. “I can tell.”

  “If you tell any of the team, I swear--” Cillian struggled to think of a decent threat. Though a childish sod sometimes, there was a timid man behind the light-hearted facade. “It’s private.”

  “They already know.” I chuckled at the horrified expression he gave.

  “My beer’s empty,” he announced, even though it was only half empty. “Excuse me, Sir. Miss.” Cillian scarpered away and disappeared into the crowd.

  “That’s one way to get rid of him quickly.” Abbey raised her eyebrows and swiped a glass of champagne from the waiters passing by and carrying flutes on their silver trays. “Still, he was on his best behaviour.”

  “It’s probably the alcohol. He’ll be back to his normal self next week.” I accepted a glass too and inspected the crowds wandering and circulating the large hall. “Plus, this isn’t a time to hang out with the team. They may be relaxing tonight, but we’ve got serious work to do.”

  “You’re a mean one, Mr Cooper.” Abbey inhaled sharply. “If it wasn’t for my intervention, you probably would’ve offended Cillian. What did you do before you met me in social situations like these?”

  “I stayed home,” I admitted, feeling the champagne bubbles fizz in my nose.

  “Ah.” She’d already swigged the entire glass.

  “Abbey,” I gave her empty glass away to a woman waiting to clean them, “I need you to be at least semi-conscious when we find DCI Reid.”

  “Relax a bit. It’s all part of the plan to blend in. Nobody comes to a gala completely sober. Plus, I needed some Dutch courage,” she explained, and I had to admit that sounded like the best plan to cure my jittering nerves.

  “I think we’ll both need some Dutch courage to get through this,” I grimaced at the taste of mine, for champagne wasn’t my favourite.

  There was a strange scent in the air, of mixed alcohol and an almost tangible mix of excitement with uncertainty. The officers of the stations were enjoying themselves, yet weren’t sure how to approach the whole formality a gala entailed.

  Dora spotted us, seated at a table where she sat chattering to some poor men who were trying to escape whenever they could. She gave a bright wave before returning to her accomplices, either conning them out of their spare change or persuading them to bet on her winning horses. It took a while for me to realize the superintendent and his wife were actually in discussion with her too, and it appeared quite an energetic conversation.

  “Well, I never,” I muttered under my breath.

  Abbey still heard and saw who I was looking at. “Who are they?”

  “That’s Dora. Skipper. She appears to have charmed the superintendent somehow. She’s certainly a firecracker.”

  They all sipped from wine glasses, merry already. The superintendent tapped his beat to the rhythm of the steady beat, wizened features haggard in the mood lighting. Their table erupted into raucous cackles at a crude joke Skipper most likely told.

  “They’re very lively,” Abbey commented. Choking on a gassy bubble, she had to slap my back to help ease the coughing. “Smooth.”

  Setting the champagne flute firmly down, the dry liquid penetrated my tongue. Why anyone would opt for champagne on the daily was beyond me?

  “So, where’s DCI Reid then?” She peered among the throng of constables.

  “I’m not sure,” I truthfully admitted as we crossed by the bar and closer towards the stage. Patting Abbey’s shoulder, I led her through the flocks by the small of her back.

  As the masses parted, the rounded DCI and his extravagant wife could be seen by a few steps to the side of the stage. A bow tie decorated his larger neck, appearing tiny in comparison. His neck fat nearly swallowed the tie whole, engorging as he shouted over the band. Just seeing them standing there and taking the limelight, the praise for the organisation of the gala.

  It was sickening to see him acting charitable and giving towards the station whe
n behind closed doors, he didn’t give a toss about us. Trying my best to swallow the rising madness, we naturally headed in their direction.

  “You ready?” I double-checked that Abbey wasn’t having second thoughts.

  “Let’s mingle.”

  I should’ve known. She took everything in her stride. The fur jacket of hers rubbed smoothly against my fingertips as we neared the sickening couple. It took DCI Reid a while to spot us, for he was busy setting up a lone microphone on stage.

  “Ah, Cooper! You made it at last,” DCI Reid roared, louder than life itself. A sheen of sweat covered his skin from the glare of the spotlights. “We were beginning to wonder if you’d gotten lost.” He clicked at the waitresses to refill their emptying glasses and the staff didn’t hesitate. “Two more drinks for them as well.”

  “My husband would’ve been devastated if you didn’t show,” DCI Reid’s wife interrupted our greetings. It was as though she’d stolen all the glitz and glamour for her own, embodying exactly what it meant to be over the top. I had a sneaky suspicion that all of her diamonds were very real indeed, the cut of the stones immaculate. Her mammoth-sized body was necessary to fit her sparky personality and deafening voice. There was no losing her in a group, even if you had desperately tried to. “He doesn’t stop talking about you. It’s all I hear after his day at work. Cooper this. Cooper that.”

  I could see how DCI Reid needed a woman of this sort to keep him in line. She was even louder than him, and that was a real challenge. His wife pulled me in for a brash kiss on the cheek, acting as though we’d known each other for years. With hugely backcombed hair and an even larger mouth, everything about them was big.

  “Cooper. My wife, Iona,” DCI Reid proudly made the introductions. That was intended to be my role here. I wanted to be in charge, to be in control tonight. DCI Reid had been in charge for too long, stringing us along as he pleased. “And this is the lady you’ve told me about?”

  I had to shake myself out of my hateful daydream,

  Abbey seemed horrified as if she wondered what I’d told him previously.