Dead Man’s Prayer: A gripping detective thriller with a killer twist. Jackie Baldwin

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СКАЧАТЬ out the way, welcome aboard.’

      Walker proffered a meaty paw, and Farrell shook it. Walker snatched his hand back as though he’d been stung.

      ‘Why you …’

      ‘Sir?’ said Farrell.

      ‘Dismissed!’ bellowed Walker, pale eyes bulging.

      I really shouldn’t have done that, thought Farrell, walking away. He’d been so incensed by Walker’s ill-judged assumptions about him that he’d been unable to resist giving him a Masonic handshake as a parting shot. Only his first morning and already he’d landed in hot water.

      It wasn’t as if it had been a real exorcism. Last year a complete loony tune had escaped from the local hospital and managed to bag a couple of hostages. As the guy had thought he was possessed by the devil, Farrell had pretended to exorcise the evil spirit and got him to surrender. It had been the quickest way to get the job done. Since then he had never heard the end of it. The big brass in Edinburgh had been falling over themselves to avoid him, like he had something unsavoury they might catch.

      Ten minutes later, Detective Chief Inspector Lind stuck his head round the door. Farrell recognized him at once. Although he was only forty-three, the same age as Farrell, Lind was all but bald with a few remaining wisps of blond hair clinging on perilously to the side of his head. Farrell resisted the urge to run his hands through his own thick mop of hair just to check it was still there. Lind’s face cracked open into a wide smile that seemed to light up all the dark corners of the room. Farrell was amused to note that his lean fitness-fanatic friend now had the beginnings of a pot-belly.

      ‘Frank, welcome to the wild South West.’ Lind plonked himself down in front of the desk. ‘So, how have you been?’

      Farrell thought about telling him then decided against it.

      ‘Oh you know, buried under a mountain of paperwork. Thought I’d see if there was any action down here or if it’s still all cattle rustling and two cop bops.’

      ‘You’re well behind the times there, sunshine,’ snorted Lind. ‘Breach of the peace is the least of our problems now.’

      Farrell smiled warmly at his new boss and old school pal.

      ‘How’s Laura these days? Not sent you packing yet?’

      ‘I’m keeping her barefoot and pregnant, just in case.’

      ‘Another one!’ laughed Farrell. ‘When’s it due?’

      ‘The middle of September,’ said Lind. ‘You must come over for dinner soon. Laura would love to see you; be just like old times.’

      ‘Sure,’ said Farrell, smiling until his jaw ached. Even the mention of her name after all this time was enough to unsettle him.

      Lind leapt up. ‘Got to dash, I’ve got a departmental meeting. The briefing is at nine thirty.’

      Farrell wasn’t sure how he felt about having Lind as his immediate boss. On the one hand, he knew Lind wouldn’t give him any hassle. In fact, he’d probably be falling over himself not to rub his nose in it. On the other hand, he felt a bit uncomfortable having someone around who had once known him so well.

      Laura McCarron: the biggest sacrifice he had ever made. Her lingering presence had occasioned him both grief and comfort over the years. To confront the reality of the woman she had become might finally restore some equanimity.

      A little cheered, he applied himself to the files again until a few minutes before the scheduled briefing. As he’d suspected, the subject matter was fairly tame compared to what he’d been used to dealing with in Edinburgh.

      Wandering down to the briefing room Farrell cast an expert eye over the loose assortment of officers inside. Within a few days they would differentiate into clumps of good cops, bad cops, smart cops, lazy cops and … attractive cops. He looked quickly away but not quickly enough. She’d noticed him staring and was headed straight towards him.

      A pair of reserved grey eyes looked up into his and a dainty hand, cool to the touch, reached out to shake his.

      ‘DI Kate Moore; you must be DI Farrell?’

      ‘Guilty as charged,’ he said with a warm smile.

      A faint blush coloured her cheeks and she slid her eyes away from his.

      ‘If I can be of any help while you’re settling in, don’t hesitate to call on me,’ she replied before walking off rather too smartly to the other side of the room.

      Farrell became aware of covert glances from other women dotted around the room. It made him feel uncomfortable and gave him the urge to retreat into himself. He did nothing to encourage female interest. His manner of dressing was low key and he doubted if he could flirt if his life depended on it. It was just a cross he had to bear. A joke by God at his expense.

      An old boy with the ruddy complexion of a hardened drinker and hair like a pot scrubber wandered over next to make his acquaintance.

      ‘DS Stirling; I hear you’re a local man,’ he said.

      ‘That’s right,’ replied Farrell.

      ‘And would you be related to Yvonne Farrell, by any chance?’

      ‘She’s my mother.’

      ‘Is she now?’ said DS Stirling, gazing at him. ‘I know her from the bowling. I didn’t know she had a son. It’s a small world, eh?’

      ‘Some might say too small,’ Farrell replied, feeling the tension in his jaw.

      ‘Come and meet one of the other sergeants: DS Byers.’

      Farrell followed Stirling across the room to where a man in his early thirties with the gym-sculpted body of the truly narcissistic was trying to impress DI Moore. Farrell was amused to note that she looked unmistakably relieved at their approach, which enabled her to extricate herself.

      DS Byers then turned and pumped Farrell’s hand so hard his fingers lost their blood supply.

      ‘DS Byers at your service, Sir, or should I say Bless me, Father, for I have sinned?’

      There was a collective intake of breath as the eyes of all those in the room nervously flicked their way. Farrell, making them sweat, coolly looked around them all and then back at the hapless Byers, who was already regretting his foray into levity.

      ‘I don’t know, Byers, should you?’ Farrell asked.

      Just then DCI Lind entered and the confrontation was over as soon as it began. Farrell took a seat at the back, the better to observe his fellow officers.

      ‘The tourist season is starting to kick off now so we’re going to have to clamp down on Jimmy McMurdo’s wee gang on the Whitesands,’ announced Lind.

      There were a few snickers at this from which Farrell deduced Jimmy McMurdo was filed under ‘local colour’. Lind held his hand up for silence and continued.

      ‘Scintillating repartee with the local winos won’t be at the top of anybody’s holiday wish СКАЧАТЬ