The Devil Inside

by Heather Atkinson

“On my way. I’ve got some information for you.”

  “What information?” said Brodie but he’d already hung up. “Oy you two,” he barked at Ross and Christian. “Save a couple of those doughnuts for Pete, he’s on his way.”

  “He won’t know we even had them,” replied Ross, reaching for another, his mouth covered in sugar and chocolate sprinkles.

  Cass slapped his hand away, flipped the box lid shut and took it into the kitchen. “Out of sight out of mind,” she called over her shoulder.

  Elliott set up the phones while Cass began sorting out the laptops, uploading all their data onto each one. While this was going on Pete turned up.

  “I brought commiseratory beers,” he said, handing around cans of lager to Cass and the boys. “Except for you Brodie,” he added handing him a small bottle of red wine. “I brought you your girlie drink.”

  “A bloody miniature,” he frowned, taking it from him. “Stingy git.”

  “Ungrateful sod. So what’s happened? Those mad cleaners told me the sprinklers went mental and ruined the place.”

  “Aye,” replied Brodie, unscrewing the cap from his wine and taking a sip. “It was the bats. They tampered with the sprinkler system.” Brodie then went on to bring him up-to-date with everything that had happened in Edinburgh.

  When he’d finished Pete blinked at him. “Oh nice one pal. Now you have an army of loons after you.”

  “Nothing new there,” he shrugged.

  “They’re targeting you, vandalising your house and business and stalking your employees. It’s only gonnae get worse you know.”

  Cass chose this moment to present him with the doughnuts she’d managed to save and his eyes lit up.

  “Gourmet ones,” he beamed, snatching one up and taking a big bite. “Bloody hell that’s heaven. I’m amazed they’re still intact with this bunch of greedy bastards hanging around them.”

  “I saved them just for you,” she smiled.

  He pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head.

  “It was when we mentioned Malachi’s dead wife Samantha to him,” said Brodie. “It lit up his craziness.”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about actually. I’ve done some digging and I’ve managed to track down the two investigating officers. Well one of them anyway. One died two years ago but the other is willing to talk to you. He lives in Plockton.”

  They all looked to Ross when he sniggered. “Plockton,” he repeated. When no one else laughed he blushed and looked down at his hands.

  “Right,” announced Brodie. “Me and Cass will go and speak to…what’s his name?”

  “Ray McLure,” replied Pete. “He used to be a DI. Seems a pleasant enough bloke.”

  “Aye, him. Me and Cass will go and talk to him. Today. In the meantime the rest of you can get on with finding out what you can about the bats. They don’t know we’ve moved, so that should stop them following you from the office. Forget Malachi for now, leave that prick to us. I want you digging up the dirt on his inner circle. Find a weak link in the chain. Ross, did you speak to your maw’s friend, Mags?”

  “Aye I did Bossman but she won’t speak to you. She says you’re the devil incarnate for targeting Christ returned to earth. She meant Malachi by that.”

  Brodie snorted. “Jeezo, some people really are gullible. Never mind son, thanks for trying.” He looked to Cass. “Right hen, let’s head up to Plockton.” He ignored Ross’s snigger.

  “I’ll come with you,” said Pete. “He’ll open up more with another polis there. I’m on the back shift tomorrow, so I have some free time. I fancy a nice drive out into the countryside, get away from the city for a bit.”

  “Hey,” said Brodie. “We’re working here, no’ going on a jaunt.”

  “There’s no reason why you can’t combine business and pleasure.” Naughtiness filled Pete’s eyes. “You were both perfectly happy to do that in the Lake District.”

  Brodie cleared his throat. “Aye alright pal, you can come.”

  “Good. This situation is getting more dangerous. I’ve got the horrible feeling Malachi’s gonnae do something reckless.”

  “Like what?”

  “Who knows what goes through that loon’s brain.” He rubbed a hand over his belly. “I’ve just got such a bad feeling…”

  They all looked at him as he trailed off into silence.

  “You’re a cheerful sod today,” said Brodie.

  Pete’s smile was sheepish. “Sorry. I sound like my gran, she was always going on about feelings and the second sight. She was really fae.”

  “And you’ve inherited her ability to see into the future now have you?”

  “She always said I had the sight. I used to guess things were going to happen before they did when I was a wean but I shut it down, got scared. But now it’s come back…”

  “Jeezo pal, we’ve already got enough batty loons in this city without you adding to it.”

  “Leave him alone Brodie,” said Cass, placing a hand on Pete’s arm. “People do have moments of premonition.”

  “It’s probably his bacon butty repeating on him,” replied Brodie. “Well that’s enough fannying about here, we need to start heading up north. It’s over a four hour drive to Plockton. It’ll mean staying overnight,” he added with a smile at Cass, who grinned back.

  “Oh great,” said Pete. “I want a room at the other side of the hotel.”

  It was almost dark by the time they reached their hotel. Cass had arranged their accommodation and the only place available was in the Kyle of Lochalsh, just over six miles from Plockton. After contacting Ray they arranged to visit him in the morning and settled into their hotel for the evening.

  “Thank Christ our rooms are on different floors,” said Pete as they sat down together for dinner in the restaurant that evening, cradled by tartan armchairs. “The last thing I need is to listen to you two going at it all night. I’ll be scarred for life.” He grinned when Brodie unleashed a big yawn. “You might be out of luck tonight,” he told Cass. “The old git’s knackered after the drive.”

  She just gave him an enigmatic smile and sipped her tonic water.

  “It’s alright for some,” retorted Brodie. “Just sitting in the back looking at the view.”

  “Why shouldn’t I? This is my free time, which I get precious little of. Bloody hell this is good grub,” he added, shoving a piece of steak into his mouth.

  “You eat like an animal,” commented Brodie.

  “At least I’m no’ a noisy chewer like you.”

  “I am not a noisy chewer.”

  “Aye ya are, isn’t he Cass?”

  “Well, he’s not the quietest.”

  “What?” said Brodie. “Why did no one mention this before?”

  “Because it doesn’t matter,” she said.

  “I feel self-conscious now.”

  “Don’t. It’s adorable.”

  “By Christ, it must be love,” said Pete. He shovelled the last piece of food into his mouth, leaned back in his chair and unfastened his belt. “Christ that was good. There’s a pool table up there Brodie, fancy a game when you’ve finished?”

  “Nah,” he replied. “We’re off to bed.”

  “But it’s not even nine o’clock. Oh,” he added when he realised what his friend was referring to.

  “We don’t have to go to bed so early,” said Cass. “I’d like a drink at the bar actually.”

  “Out of luck,” Pete chuckled at Brodie.

  They left their table and retreated to the bar, Cass sipping her drink and watching with amusement as Brodie and Pete played a game of pool together and continually argued, accusing each other of cheating.

  “You nudged the table then,” exclaimed Pete when Brodie pocketed another ball.

  “I did not. Just because you’re losing.”

  “I am not losing.”

  “Well you’re no’ winning either.”

  Pete spotted a woman watching him from across the room, sipping a glass
of wine and smiling at him. She was a corker with long blond hair and bright red lips.

  “Hey you,” said Brodie. “You gonnae take your shot or what?”

  “Eh?” he said, snapping out of it.

  Brodie caught where he was looking, smiled and placed his cue on the table. “Tell you what, call it a draw.”

  “You always say that when you’re getting your arse kicked.”

  “We can carry on playing if you like or you can talk to that woman.”

  “You can stick your cue up your arse Brodie,” replied Pete, eyes still on the woman, patting his quiff to ensure it was in place.

  “What will Janet say?”

  “I havenae seen her for over two weeks, she’s been so busy at work.”

  “You feeling neglected?”

  “Aye I am. I think she’s losing interest, so I’m gonnae find some solace.”

  “Go for it. I’m knackered anyway.”

  “I bet you are, you old git.”

  “Night pal.”

  “Aye, night.”

  As Brodie approached the bar, Cass smiled and got to her feet. “Ready to go to bed?”

  “You bet I am hen.”

  He glanced back over his shoulder at Pete and smiled when he saw his friend sat beside the woman, the two of them animatedly chatting. Hopefully she would cheer up his friend.

  “How did you get on with that bird last night?” Brodie asked Pete at breakfast the next morning.

  “Nothing happened,” he replied. “I told her my joke about the nun, the lorry driver and the beetroot and she took the huff.”

  “Oh Pete, you didn’t?” sighed Cass.

  “How? What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s offensive to women, lorry drivers, beetroot and basically everyone in the world except you.”

  “Brodie thinks it’s funny.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” said Cass, wiping the grin from Brodie’s face. “Eat up you two, we need to get going.”

  “I don’t get what was wrong with my joke,” said a dejected Pete as they left the hotel.

  “Me neither pal,” replied Brodie. “But don’t tell Cass I said that.”

  “On the bright side Janet called, said she’d managed to clear the backlog at work, so she’s free to meet up when I get back to Glasgow. So it’s probably for the best that nothing happened between me and that woman.”

  “Probably because you would have felt like shite when you saw her. How does a pathologist get a backlog anyway? Does she have loads of deid bodies lying around, whinging that they’ve been waiting ages?”

  Pete chuckled. “Backlog with paperwork and she’s had to give evidence at court quite a lot recently. Still, now she’s free to come round and gie’ me my hole.”

  Brodie shivered, wondering how his friend could bear the Queen of the Dead’s hands touching him.

  Brodie brought his car to a halt outside a one-storey whitewashed cottage on the banks of Loch Carron.

  They got out of the car, Pete inhaling the air. “Christ that’s nice. No car fumes.”

  “It’s beautiful here,” said Cass, gazing out across the water at the mountains. “It’s so peaceful. I wish we could stay longer.”

  “We’ll come back for a wee holiday when all this crap is over,” Brodie told her.

  “Nice idea. I think we’re going to need it.”

  A kayaker out on the loch got carried away and capsized, Brodie’s laugh ringing out across the water.

  The cottage door opened before they could knock to reveal a tall, strong man with a sunburnt face, deep lines cut into his forehead and cheeks. He looked more like a fisherman than a retired police officer.

  “DI McLaren?” he said in a deep, authoritative voice.

  “Aye that’s me,” replied Pete, extending his hand to him. “These are my friends I told you about - ex DI MacBride and his second-in-command and partner, Cass Carlisle.”

  “Nice to meet you all,” said Ray, shaking their hands in turn. “Come away in, I’ve just brewed some tea.”

  “Nice,” said Brodie, following him in. “I’m parched.”

  The interior of the cottage was small, Pete and Brodie having to duck as they entered. The sitting room was tiny. Brodie and Cass had to squash onto the small two-seater couch together while Pete and Ray took the two armchairs. Various photographs of the village adorned the mauve walls and a small bookcase and a television occupied one corner. The only other item of furniture that could fit was a petite coffee table laden with tea and biscuits.

  “They’re shop bought,” said Ray, indicating the biscuits. “I can’t bake and I’m not married.”

  “Nae bother,” said Brodie, picking up a custard cream and biting into it.

  “So,” said Ray. “You wanted to know about the Cryer case then?”

  “Aye, please pal,” said Brodie.

  “You’re investigating Samantha’s husband?”

  “Aye. His name’s Malachi now. He’s head of that church…”

  “Higher Light. Yes, I’ve seen them on the telly. Pete told me they’re taking over Glasgow.”

  “They’re trying.”

  “Doesn’t surprise me. Johnson always came across as a control freak. I knew he’d killed her. I walked into that crime scene and the whole thing felt staged. Poor Samantha was lying on her living room floor, one side of her head caved in.”

  “Where was Johnson?”

  “Out. He said he’d been at a friend’s all evening, who alibied him. It was why we couldn’t get him done for it and there were signs of a break-in at the back door.”

  “Was anything taken?”

  “Some jewellery, cash and electrical goods. On the surface it was a typical burglary that went wrong. Samantha was in when they broke in, she fought back, textbook stuff. But too textbook. Me and Andy, who I worked on the case with, were instantly suspicious. We found no trace of the stuff that had been nicked and there was just no sign of a stranger at the scene. Everything pointed to Johnson.”

  “How was he?”

  “Devastated. At one point he went down on his knees, clasped his hands together and demanded of God to know what he’d done that was so bad He took his wife from him. Apparently he wasn’t at all religious until then, it was Samantha’s death that tipped him over the edge. I think that was what led him to form his church.”

  “What sort of person was his wife?”

  “Everyone who knew her said how sweet she was, beautiful too. She was a primary school teacher. All their friends said she and Johnson were so in love but he had to have everything his own way and she was pretty meek by all accounts, so she never complained.”

  “What tipped him over the edge?” said Cass. “What made him kill her?”

  “That was the problem. We couldn’t find any reason. The neighbours hadn’t overheard any arguing, all their friends and family members said they were a great couple who loved each other dearly. There was no evidence of any extra-marital affairs, no financial problems, all the usual suspects. I know I’m making it sound like he was innocent but he bloody wasn’t.” He paused to take a breath, rummaging inside his trouser pocket.

  “Something wrong?” said Brodie.

  “Angina,” he replied, producing a small white spray and squirting it into his mouth. “It’s why I had to take early retirement.” He relaxed and released a long breath. “It’s passed now. Sorry but this case never fails to wind me up. It still makes me furious that the murdering bastard is still walking free.”

  “We’re trying to bring down Malachi,” said Brodie. “When we mentioned Samantha to him he got all uptight, it made him show his true colours.”

  “I’m not surprised. He was obsessed with her. I did think his motive was that by killing her she could never leave him. He had abandonment issues after his father walked out on him and his mother when he was a child. When I mentioned it to him he got really nasty. I saw the truth in his eyes. He couldn’t stand for anyone else to leave him, so he got there first a
nd killed that poor woman so she could never go, not that there was anything indicating she was planning on leaving him, it was all in his head.”

  “Interesting,” said Brodie, wondering how he could use this information.

  “Did Malachi,” began Cass. “I mean Johnson have many friends?”

  “More what you’d call acquaintances. He knew plenty of people, some he’d even go out to dinner with or meet for coffee, that sort of thing but they all said he never let them into his heart. He was always careful to keep them at arm’s length. Despite this they all found it hard to believe he could kill his wife. We had no other leads, so the case went cold.”

  “What did the detective you worked on the case with think about it?” said Brodie.

  “Exactly the same as me - that Johnson was guilty but we could do nothing to prove it. The poor sod died in a car accident a couple of years ago, got hit by some joyriding nineteen year old. A sad end. Bill was a gifted detective. He was like a bloodhound. This case was one of his very few failures and it ate away at him.”

  “I can imagine,” said Pete sympathetically.

  They chatted for a bit longer about the case before the talk turned to the local area, which Cass already greatly admired.

  The three of them left, a waving Ray seeing them off at the door. When they’d gone he closed the door and returned to the living room. He’d only just retaken his seat when the phone rang. His heart quickened its pace, one hand going for the angina spray while the other picked up the handset.

  “Hello?” he said into the phone.

  “Hello Ray,” purred the deep, hypnotic voice on the other end. “How did you get on with your visitors?”

  “F…fine,” he stammered.

  “Did you tell them what I told you to say?”

  “I did and they believed it, no worries there.”

  “You’re certain?”

  “Without a doubt.”

  “Excellent. Let them chase ghosts for a while. It will keep them off my back.”

  “Is there anything else I can do to help?”

  “No, you have already done so much for me.”

  “I’d do anything for you Master.”

  “I know that Ray and I am so very appreciative of it. Let us discuss your inner demons. How have you been getting along with them recently?”