Page 44 of Better the Devil

His hair wasn’t grey but fully white, thinning on top, but long and a little unkempt at the back. He was thin and wiry beneath his crisp blue shirt and burgundy tie, with sinewy fingers thattap-tap-tappedon the trophy’s base, as if he were constantly reminding everyone of its existence.

‘Hi,’ Hamza said, one sleeve already in his jacket. ‘Uh, thanks for having me.’

‘No, thankyou, Detective Inspector,’ Callum said, and the other five—four men, one woman—all nodded along. ‘Your speech was… Well, it was something.’

‘Thanks.’

Callum chuckled. There was something vaguely patronising about it. ‘Your honesty was really quite refreshing. I hope you find your feet someday, I really do. We all do, don’t we?’

His tribe was vocal in its agreement.

Hamza slowly slid the other arm into his jacket and zipped it up.

‘Eh, aye, cheers,’ he said. ‘Congratulations again on your win.’

‘Win? Oh, this!’ Callum glanced down at the trophy he’d been clinging to as if only now realising he was holding it. ‘Yes. Well, you know. Nice to be recognised.’

Hamza pulled off a perfect nod and smile combo, then clocked Ben up at the food table, and moved to get past the group.

‘Have a good day.’

‘What’s the story with the murder?’

Callum’s question stopped the DI in his tracks.

‘Joe Robertson said there was a body. In a car. Throat slit.’ The man’s eyes narrowed like he didn’t believe this next part. Like he refused to. ‘He says he’s beenhelping the police with their enquiries. Him! That useless old bugger.’

There was some guilty laughter from the acolytes. A couple of them looked across the hall to where another older man was sitting by himself, munching his way through a plate of sandwiches, already wearing his new hi-vis vest.

‘I’m afraid I can’t discuss the details of an ongoing investigation,’ Hamza said.

He watched the old man miss his mouth with a sandwich and slitter egg all down the front of his tabard. He looked utterly crestfallen as he tried to wipe it off.

Hamza knew nothing about Joe Robertson. He hadn’t had a chance to read Dave’s summary of their interview, or to discuss his witness statement.

But what the hell?

‘What I can say is that Mr Robertson has proven to be a great help so far. We’re very lucky to have had his support on the investigation, and you’re lucky to have him as part of your organisation.’

Callum’s face froze in an expression of pure distaste. Hamza could’ve just spat in his eye, he reckoned, and the man would’ve looked less horrified.

His hangers-on were more impressed, though. The men shot admiring looks in Joe’s direction. The woman patted at her hair.

Over in his chair, Joe glanced up from egg-wiping duty, saw everyone looking at him, and waved cautiously back.

‘It should’ve been mine,’ Callum said.

Hamza raised an eyebrow. ‘Sorry?’

‘That body. Another quarter of a mile, and it would’ve been on my turf. I’d have found it. I’d be the one helping,’ Callum said. His outrage at the unfairness of the situation was laced like venom through the words. ‘And I tell you, I’d be more useful than that… thatidjit.’

‘Everything alright here?’

Sergeant Fleck appeared as if from nowhere, armed with a warm smile and a plate of chocolate biscuits, both of which served to break the tension. He winked at Hamza as Callum’s apostles helped themselves to a Blue Ribband. Even the woman, who’d been eating only cucumber, pocketed one for later.

By the time the plate was cleared, Callum had buggered off to bother someone else, leaving his followers to disperse, one by one, into the thinning crowd.

‘Cheers for that,’ Hamza said.