The Devil Among Us

by Ramsay Sinclair

This was going to be a long night.

  “No. I’m supposed to be meeting DCI Reid. Alec Reid,” I clarified, in case the frowning man had no clue who I meant.

  “Ah, I should’ve known. Cooper, isn’t it? He’s been threatening to invite you here for a while now. Said you’d be a perfect guy for a place like this. You enjoy a spot of gambling?” Considering this guy was short, he had the voice to make up for what he lacked in height.

  “Not really,” I said truthfully, which warranted a humorous reaction from the man currently leading us over to where some drinks were being served.

  “Good. At least I know I’ll be able to beat you.” He shook his oval-shaped head. “Say, you two work at the station together, don’t you?”

  This guy seemed to know an awful lot about me, whilst I knew nothing of him. “Yeah, I’m his DI. And you are?”

  “My apologies, I completely forgot. I’m Judge Ramsey.” He took out a sweaty hand for me to shake. “It’s nice to have someone else from our field here.”

  “Judge Ramsey?” I prompted him to tell me his first name. The judge seemed sympathetic to my requests.

  “Trust DCI Reid to let you come here unprepared. We only call each other by our last names here, as a form of respect. We’ve all worked hard for our places in society and shouldn’t have to be ashamed of it,” Judge Ramsey informed me. “For example, that’s Father Gideon over there.” He pointed towards a fumbling old man, with half-moon glasses that constantly slid down his nose.

  “I see,” I hummed, even though I didn’t understand it at all. “How did it start?”

  “Nobody really knows,” Judge Ramsey chortled. “We just enjoy it for what it is. Drink?”

  Blend in, I reminded myself and saw what the other men seemed to be sipping or downing. “A brandy alexander please,” I ordered, and the bartender handed me the sweet but strong drink in return.

  “Ah.” Judge Ramsey twiddled his frustratingly neat moustache and pushed my hand away from my pocket commandingly. “The only thing we pay for here is the betting. The owner of the house has the rest covered.” This club seemed similar to the Masons, shrouded in mystery and weirdness. “I’d suggest staying away from Father Gideon if you want to have fun tonight. He sits there miserable every time.” The judge had a twinkle in his sharp eyes. “DCI Reid and I will look out for you. We usually have a good time.”

  “Glad to hear it. How long have you known DCI Reid now?” I wondered, hoping to find out anything possible.

  “Since he moved to the bay. He’s a very… advantageous man. Makes the best out of the situations he finds himself in, both in cards and life. He’s a brilliant mentor for young men like yourself. Oh, what you can achieve if you’re with the right people,” the judge leered, and I felt extremely uncomfortable.

  None of this was up my street.

  “It’s good to have new blood. It’s been a while since we’ve had any. They’re real gentlemen here and a bundle of fun,” Judge Ramsey said.

  I glanced around to all the grave men chatting. I wasn’t entirely convinced.

  “So, where’s DCI Reid?” I politely made back and forth tête-à-tête, secretly searching for DCI Reid everywhere.

  “Always late,” Judge Ramsey scoffed. “His wife keeps him behind with all her talking.”

  Ah, I found it best to stay out of it. Iona had been welcoming to us last night, and I didn’t want to sit there and gossip about her when she was out of earshot.

  “Who’s Roy?” I perked up.

  Judge Ramsey was too busy lighting a cigar. “Pardon?”

  “You mistook me for a man named Roy when I arrived.”

  Judge Ramsey screwed his face up as he inhaled. “He’s a mutual friend of DCI Reid’s and mine. You two don’t look overly dissimilar.”

  “Just Roy? I thought you called people their last names here,” I frowned and was distracted momentarily by the sight of men boisterously greeting each other.

  “That is his last name. Roy doesn’t really have a title. He’s here because he has certain skills and money to spare.” He laughed and sent overbearing smoke into my face. “He only comes by if he’s free. He has a busy line of work.”

  Opening my mouth to continue asking more questions, Judge Ramsey frowned at the sight of my cut and bruises. “That cut seems nasty. I can call Doctor Miles over if you’d like. He’d be happy to look over it.”

  Blimey. No wonder the men had stared at me when I’d entered. I’d almost forgotten I looked like a walking punchbag.

  “No, thank you. It’s quite alright. A drunken scrap, that’s all.” I left a lot to the imagination, preferring it that way. The fewer people knew about me here, the better.

  “Ah, I see. Reid always said you were quite the bold lad,” Judge Ramsey let on, downing his drink in one. Or not.

  For an elderly guy, he was going faster than I ever had drunk a drink in my life. To keep up with him, I’d have to be an alcoholic of sorts. Come to think of it, even Father Gideon was getting rid of his drinks speedily.

  “He said you're his lucky charm for tonight. Does that mean we’re going to have to watch out?” He twiddled that darn moustache twice. It was extremely distracting.

  “I don’t know about that. I never was any good at cards.” I bowed my head ashamedly. I hadn’t thought this through. I barely had the same sort of money as these guys.

  “With a guy like Reid, everyone’s good at cards,” Judge Ramsey let on kindly.

  “You talking about me?” DCI Reid appeared behind us two and slapped our backs in earnest, a similar cigar pursed between his wrinkled lips. “Nice to finally see you here, Cooper,” he acknowledged. “You fit in well, you’re a natural. I barely recognised you sitting here. Nice outfit, very sharp.”

  “All positive things only, Reid,” Judge Ramsey bantered, signalling the bartender to get DCI Reid’s favourite drink ready. “You’re late.”

  “Iona wouldn’t let me escape. I had to tell her I was working late,” DCI Reid fondly said. “Women always want a kiss or two before you leave.”

  I balled my fist upon hearing that. After what I’d learned last night, Iona gave up everything for this pig-headed man in front of me.

  “Or three,” I said enthusiastically and in a monotone voice to humour them only.

  “Exactly. So, Ramsey, what do you think of my boy? We’re lucky to have him here, I know he barely has a social life. This is his second day out in a row. Quite an achievement, I think.” DCI Reid lifted his glass in honour of me showing up.

  “Reminds me of you when you were younger.” Judge Ramsey smiled, displaying a set of coffee-stained teeth. If one more person said that, I’d explode.

  DCI Reid fussed with his cuffs. “How’s the head after last night, Cooper?”

  “Still fuzzy,” I admitted.

  “Not fuzzy enough to distract from a game of cards though, is it?” he checked seriously.

  “No, Sir,” I denied that I was in no way ready for this. Putting twenty down on Dora’s horse racing was a different league to this sort of thing. Men had started weaving through to the playing tables, as though an invisible bell had rung out and signalled them.

  The two men led us over to a table where people were waiting to begin a game. The bartender got us a round of second drinks, even though the first anywhere near finished.

  “Abbey’s a stunner. You’re punching above your weight there, Cooper,” Reid said to change the subject, whilst unsuccessfully trying to fit onto a stall that was too small for him.

  “Aren’t we all? My wife gets tonnes more compliments than I do.” Judge Ramsey lifted a glass in delight, tanned skin darker from the angle we were positioned at. I listened intently, waiting for any private discussion that may arise between them.

  DCI Reid was on a different line of behaviour tonight, putting on a fake air of graces that he didn’t portray the other night in front of his wife. I wasn’t exactly sure I liked what this gentlemen’s club night had to offer. They were all stuck up, p
onsey men.

  “You up for a game, Cooper? I want to see what you’re made of,” Ramsey offered, his eyes lit up in devilish greed and half expected a newcomer like me to fold under pressure.

  “Always,” I muttered darkly. I presumed that’s how the deals worked here. You waited until there were enough players to begin. I must’ve been correct, for one of the hired dealers dished out cards before we had even finished sitting down properly. “Say, where’s the owner of this house? Er, place?” I cast my eyes over the dim happening.

  DCI Reid knitted his brows severely, pulling our seats closer. “We don’t talk at the table unless spoken to by the dealer or to make an offer.” His cigar smelled strong sitting this close, and I was sure Iona would agree with that too. He inhaled thoughtfully, multiple chins flashing.

  Judge Ramsey eyed us up from across the table, his lips twitching humorously at my apparent cluelessness. The formalities had instantly melted away, and they all had their game faces on as though we’d stepped into a deadly standoff. All the men thumbed over their cards critically, letting their faces hang as still as possible.

  “But the guy that owns the place rarely joins us. He lets us play here, that’s all.” DCI Reid pushed a pile of dealt cards towards me.

  More than play. I bet this guy cashes in on these adventures somehow. I went to open my mouth again, but DCI Reid shushed me before I’d even begun to talk. He pointed at my cards with his cigar and showed me what to do without saying another word. I picked up the cards, unversed in the rules of their game and unknowing whether I had a celebrated hand or not.

  “Alright. Place your bets.” The dealer stood back, giving us time to dig into our pockets, which the men did immediately, wasting no time whatsoever.

  They went round in a circle, cockily placing their stacks onto the table one by one. I assumed they amounted to a helluva lot of money. I reddened, knowing all too well that I didn’t own any of the chips myself, which were embossed with a signature logo.

  It was DCI Reid’s turn to place next, and he pushed his own stack into the middle. He should’ve been finished then, but DCI Reid placed a whole other stack next to his original, making Judge Ramsey grip the table excitedly and sit forward.

  The other few tittered raucously.

  “For the boy. He’s my guest. I’ll be paying his way tonight,” DCI Reid announced confidently, and my mouth hung open, aghast. Not from the gesture, but rather where the money was coming from. I didn’t want to accept his corrupted coins.

  “Sir, you can’t,” I refused, embarrassed by the attention too. “I’m useless. I have no clue what any of these cards even mean. I’m crap!”

  DCI Reid didn’t even flinch, but he kept an air of coolness.

  “You’ll get the hang of it. Beginner's luck.” He took no prisoners. Metaphorically, because ironically we took prisoners most weeks. He banged the table twice with his clammy palm and the game was afoot.

  “Don’t count on it,” I directed my utterance towards the overly confident DCI.

  25

  “Yes!” I punched the air in victory, both sleeves rolled up my arm. I’d gotten into the game quickly as DCI Reid predicted. I’m sure the brandy that the bartender kept handing out helped to ease the nerves.

  “What did I say?” DCI Reid stood up in celebration, exaggeratedly swiping everyone’s chips off of the table. “My protege has the goods.”

  The other men groaned and slumped in defeat. My heartbeat raced on account of the tense last round, where it bottled down to me and Judge Ramsey only.

  “That’s got to have been rigged, I’m certain of it. Rematch!” Judge Ramsey shouted for comical effect, waiting for the dealer to sort out the winnings of the night.

  My eyes nearly fell out of my head when I saw the real winnings, stacks and wads of cash. More money than I’d ever seen in my life at one go. I didn’t make a beeline for it, as they weren’t technically my winnings, anyway. They were DCI Reid’s, for he had staked the bet.

  Plus, tainted money wasn’t my style. As enjoyable as the game itself had turned out to be, the winning wasn't the reason I’d come out in force like the others. DCI Reid was already shovelling some of it into his pockets lustfully and licking his lips at the sight. Most guys had moved on elsewhere, leaving only me, DCI Reid, and Judge Ramsey there alone.

  “Well, come on, Cooper. Get stuck in. Anyone else would be singing hallelujah.” DCI Reid paused breathlessly and handed me a few wads.

  “It’s not mine.” I pushed them away, morally correct. “It’s your money.”

  “You won the game, fair and square, son.” Judge Ramsey stuck his crooked, roman style nose into our business, ideally watching our scene unfold and taking great pleasure in my stubborn mannerisms. A playful smirk crossed his chapped lips.

  “Thanks for the recap,” I bluntly argued, one too many brandy’s swimming around my brain. “You’re worse than those sports reporters on a Friday down the pubs. They replay everything too.”

  “He’s right,” DCI Reid roared, poking fun at his friend. “And Judge Ramsey is right too.” He aimed a second wad towards me. “I betted for you, and you won fair and square. I’m not a cruel man, I don’t take other people’s winnings. We can split it down the middle.” He’d already started, despite my convictions.

  I swore to give it away to some charity later on if they insisted on me walking out of the house with the damned notes.

  “Go on, Cooper. This man doesn’t give up. He’ll be on your case for weeks if you don’t.” Judge Ramsey paused to slap DCI Reid’s back in a boyish manner. “Next time, you won’t be so lucky,” he promised me in reference to my winning hand.

  “Next time?” This time had been stressful enough.

  “You can’t get away that easily, sport.” Judge Ramsey included me in the series of slaps on the back that were taking place. “You’re one of us now, DI Cooper.”

  He outstretched his palm towards me in something instantly recognizable as a handshake. But this wasn’t the normal type of handshake, and I could tell by the way the two men were staring at me, that this meant something more. Something darker. It was the same sort of handshake DCI Reid had given the criminals on the CCTV footage, almost as though I’d been recruited into their specialist group.

  I couldn’t very well ignore the handshake, for that would reveal that I was having doubts about their characters. DCI Reid would instantly know something was wrong. With that, I went from being a DI, to being acquainted with doctors, lawyers and impressionable people in the space of one night.

  “If there are any favours you need, anything at all, don’t hesitate to call on us. We’re joined, as one. Just let Reid know,” Judge Ramsey advised with the stench of mixed alcohol lingering on his tongue.

  “Anything, Cooper,” DCI Reid affirmed, handing me over a proportionate amount of winnings. My pockets could barely stand the weight, but I’d be glad if someone mugged me on the way home.

  The two impressionable men led the way out until we were stood on a road opposite the home that had held our card games for the past few. It was here where we were all going our separate ways, each with different people waiting for us at home.

  “Well!” Judge Ramsey cleared his throat and slapped my back again. Any more and my back would be bruised as well as the rest of me. Disguising the winces, I reciprocated what I thought to be friendly behaviour. “We’ll see you next time. That’s an order.” The skinny man discarded another cigar stub, puffing his way through them like a soldier in the war.

  “Aye. Thanks,” I mumbled, voice lost in the wind that had begun to pick up.

  DCI Reid stifled a yawn, clocking the time. “We should head off. Not only will Iona beat me for staying out late again, but we’re in early at the office tomorrow, Cooper,” he reminded me. These days, the last thing I ever thought about was the office. “Good to see you, Ramsey.”

  They shared a comfortable farewell. Judge Ramsey was the first to break away and clamber gracelessly into hi
s car to warm up by the heaters. I wasn’t entirely sure that he was under the legal limit of drink, not that DCI Reid seemed to care. Eventually, the car glided effortlessly across the gravelled streets, showing its unique and expensive engineering.

  “That was an excellent game in there, Cooper,” DCI Reid confided, barely feeling the chill from the amount of insulation his fat gave him. “Spend your winnings wisely.” He nodded mysteriously and marched off without another utterance.

  That was typical of him, the epitome of a blunt man. Shuffling and tightening my coat fabric around my shivering body, my shoe caught against an object lying on the concrete. Squinting in the crappy street lamps that barely illuminated anything, I stooped over to find a wallet. Expertly created from the finest leathers and bound by fastenings that wouldn’t break anytime soon, I opened it to see a name inscribed.

  “DCI Reid!” I called out to no avail, for he had already faded into the darkness, blending in with our surroundings. My calls were carried away on the brisk wind.

  There was nothing much in it, apart from a gambling chip from today and a few pennies. Reid’s winnings from tonight had mainly been stuffed into any pocket available, for the wallet was too small to fit many notes into it, anyway. His bank cards were neatly tucked into their allocated compartments and a small passport-sized photo of a woman was tucked inside the plastic part.

  It took a short while to notice that the girl was Iona as a young woman. She had curly hair then in a permed style, tight rods and ringlets that framed her slimmer face. Even though the photo was in black and white, I could see the faint glimmer of her earrings and guessed she’d always dressed in such an elaborate fashion. Being a daughter of a father who owns an oil company certainly had its perks.

  I’d have to give DCI Reid his wallet back in the morning when we would return to the station. Until then, I had more important things to think about. My thoughts occupied me as they often did when I was alone. It was quite a therapeutic thing, to walk alone at the dead of night. accompanied by the swaying of trees and the moon which loomed over us like a silent protector.