Page 155 of Better the Devil

‘All of it?’ Tyler practically squeaked.

Dave shrugged. ‘She might be able to get it back. There are, like, retrieval specialists who might be able to help her.’ He didn’t sound confident. ‘Fingers crossed she does, because it’s not going to reflect well on the polis if one of ours has half-inched the lot of it right under our noses.’

‘Shite. Aye,’ Tyler mumbled. ‘That’s a point.’

Logan finished filling them in on how the night had wrapped up. The charges that had been brought. The lives that had likely been ruined forever.

What he didn’t tell them about was everything after that. His return home to a house that had been empty aside from an excited dog, and a note from Shona telling him they needed some time and some space, and not to call. Not yet. Not for a while.

Under the desk, Taggart let out a softhuff, like he was reading Logan’s mind, and either empathising with him, or holding him personally responsible.

It was hard to say which, with a dug.

A burst of chatter from the entrance drew all eyes to the door. Hamza and Ben came striding in, the older man leading the way with a white paper bag that bulged at the seams.

‘Morning, all!’ Ben declared.

‘You back again?’ Logan asked.

‘Can’t keep you away, eh, boss? Old boss. Ex-boss. Whatever,’ Tyler said.

‘Funny you should say that,’ Ben said. He set the bag on Logan’s desk before addressing the room. ‘I’ve had a great time. It’s been a blast. Seriously. It’s been good to feel part of it again.’

He smiled fondly, dwelling right here in this moment for as long as he could.

‘But you lot don’t need me anymore. Hamza sure as hell doesn’t!’ He shushed the DI when he started to object. ‘You don’t. None of you do. And that’s good. Because I am too bloody old to be chasing masked men in transit vans. With my knees? Not a chance! I’ll stick to drawing cocks on people’s cappuccinos.’

‘I knew it,’ Logan said. ‘I knew those weren’t bloody fern leaves!’

Ben cackled. When he stopped, the smile stayed behind. ‘I’ll no’ be far away. Just over the back. You know where to find me.’

He leaned over and unwrapped the top of the bag.

‘Oh, and a wee parting token for you all.’

Tearing the paper bag down one side, he revealed an assortment of muffins, pastries, and cream-filled cakes.

‘Aw, nice one!’ Tyler said.

Dave rolled himself in closer. ‘Bagsy that Portuguese tart.’

‘Thanks for this,’ Logan said.

‘No bother.’ Ben held out a hand. ‘Twelve fifty.’

Logan snorted. ‘Aye. Good one.’

Ben’s hand remained outstretched. An eyebrow raised. ‘Come on now, Jack,’ he said, and though there was a smiletugging at one corner of his mouth, Logan knew the old bugger had never been more serious about anything in his life. ‘You think I’m made of money?’

Tyler made the tea,and then they all set about the cakes. Ben helped himself to a coconut finger, despite Logan having paid for the whole bloody lot from his own pocket just moments before.

They spoke then. About the case and its potential repercussions. There would be paperwork, of course. Lots of paperwork. Internal investigations to be complied with, questions to ask and to answer.

Going forward, there would be long days and late nights, other killers and other deaths.

And there would be cakes. And tea. And all of them together like this.

Once the cups were empty and the last crumbs devoured, Ben led Hamza to the DI’s desk, glanced around to make sure they weren’t being watched, then quietly slid open a hidden panel in the top drawer, revealing twoTunnock’s Tea Cakesand aTime Out.