Perfect Crime - Helen Fields

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the narrow staircase.

      ‘You’d think, now that I’m a detective chief inspector, Ailsa might have decided I’m a grown-up,’ she grumbled.

      ‘I’m not taking sides in that argument,’ Callanach said. ‘Ailsa’s scarier than you.’

      ‘Yeah, but I’m your boss, so you’re duty bound to agree with me.’ Ava winced as she climbed into the car and bent her leg. ‘To the hospital then, but we’d better make it quick. We’ve still got a lot to do tonight.’

      ‘Back to the station to start working on the Hawksmith case?’ Callanach asked.

      ‘Your place first. You can’t avoid it, Luc. This thing with the nursing home isn’t going to go away on its own. We’re doing all we can for Mrs Hawksmith for now, God help the poor woman.’

      They pulled away slowly, neither of them noticing the man who was watching from the window of the chippy across the road, clutching newspaper-wrapped cod that he had no intention of eating. You had to have a death wish to consume that much saturated fat and salt. He smiled at the irony of it and wondered what Mrs Hawksmith looked like now, three weeks after he’d last seen her.

       Chapter Eight

       4 March

      The Royal Infirmary’s emergency department was oddly quiet, but then there was a football match on. Most people would try to avoid serious injury until the pubs were kicking out. Callanach accompanied Ava to reception, knowing she’d play down the extent of the pain if left alone. She showed her badge and explained that time was limited. A nurse appeared immediately and showed them through to a cubicle.

      ‘I’ll give you some privacy to get undressed,’ Callanach said.

      ‘Not much point. You saw the wound last night and I’m guessing the sight of me in my underwear won’t be hugely thrilling at the moment. Take a chair and turn your head away.’ She unzipped her jeans and pulled them slowly down over the wound. ‘Shit,’ she muttered beneath her breath.

      ‘Everything okay?’ Callanach asked, keeping his focus on the sink in the corner.

      ‘Not really. I should have shaved my legs a fortnight ago. I look like a bloody yeti, and now I’m going to be stitched up by a doctor who’ll assume I’m some washed-up old maid whose idea of a good night is reruns of the TV series The Book Group while I sip vodka and Irn Bru, pretending it’s a proper cocktail because I dropped a maraschino cherry in it.’

      A slim, tanned hand appeared and gracefully drew back the curtain to reveal Dr Selina Vega, the only woman in the world who could make a white coat look sexier and more glamorous than a red-carpet gown.

      ‘Selina,’ Callanach said. ‘That’s a coincidence.’

      ‘Not really. One of the reception staff recognised you and asked if I wanted to take the case,’ she smiled. ‘Hello, Ava. That’s a nasty cut. Why don’t you lie down so I can get a better look at it.’

      ‘Er, sure … I think I probably just need a prescription for antibiotics, though. We’re on the clock. It’s good to see you again. You keeping well?’ she asked, horribly aware of the tension between Callanach and his ex-girlfriend, and wondering if tea-party conversation was going to help or make things worse.

      ‘I’m going to have to clean it out then stitch it. The butterfly stitches aren’t pulling the sides together properly. Left like this you’ll have a serious scar and the underlying tissue will be painful for life.’

      ‘So it’s a yes to the stitches, then,’ Ava said. ‘Luc, this could take a while. Did you want to go and get a coffee or something? Sorry, Selina, we’ve just come from a crime scene. It’s been a long day.’

      ‘Sure, I’ll bring you back a tea. Selina, espresso?’

      ‘Please,’ she nodded, taking various implements from a drawer and pulling a light over the top of Ava’s leg. ‘You need me to anaesthetise you first?’ she asked.

      ‘Don’t bother. It’s so painful already that you sticking a needle in won’t add much.’

      Selina began peeling off the strip stitches and cleaning the wound. Ava watched her dexterous fingers work their magic and wondered how Callanach could have given up such a beautiful creature. They seemed to have so much in common.

      ‘I was sorry to hear about you and Luc,’ Ava said. ‘Truly. I think you were good for him.’

      ‘You’ll need a shot of antibiotics to get on top of this infection. There were some small stones and dust stuck in the bottom of the gash. It won’t start healing until the infection’s dealt with. How did it happen?’

      ‘Fell over late at night, checking out a potential crime at a castle, of all places. Thank God Luc was with me. He always seems to be in the right place at the right time. Fire away with the antibiotics. Needles don’t bother me. Do you mind me asking what happened? I know it’s none of my business, but Luc is so closed-off about his personal life and I worry about him.’

      Selina withdrew the needle from Ava’s leg and dropped it into the sharps bin.

      ‘Are you asking as his boss or in some other capacity?’

      ‘As his friend. You know, you stole my cinema buddy from me. No one else’ll watch black-and-white movies with me at midnight on a Wednesday. Even so, I’d have continued making the sacrifice to see him happy. I was hoping things would work out between the two of you.’

      Selina took a semicircular suture needle from a sterile packet and got ready to begin stitching.

      ‘Luc’s complicated,’ she said. ‘His past affects him every day. People have the wrong expectations of him and he feels the weight of that.’

      Ava closed her eyes and laid her head back, gripping the sides of the bed. It was one thing being brave about needles, but only a fool wanted to watch one being weaved in and out of their own flesh.

      ‘That’s why I was so pleased when the two of you started dating. After all the trouble with Astrid Borde and the rape allegation, he needed someone he could really trust.’

      She inhaled suddenly. The flesh around the wound was more tender than she’d realised and she’d been wrong to think that the pain couldn’t get any worse.

      ‘Did he talk to you about me much?’ Selina asked quietly.

      ‘Of course,’ Ava rushed to reassure, trying to recall specific conversations when Callanach had described what they’d done at a weekend, or the sort of person Selina was. She came up blank. ‘But it’s hard given our job. Lots of people prefer to leave their private life at the door, so you can go home without a crossover. You understand. It must be the same for you.’

      ‘Actually, I used to talk to my colleagues about Luc all the time,’ Selina said, dabbing the wound dry to make the stitching easier. ‘I was hoping we’d move in together this summer. He didn’t tell you I’d suggested it?’

      ‘I think he did say something about that, yes,’ Ava lied, looking at the curtain and wondering how long Callanach was going to take with the drinks.

      She was a bad liar and Selina was an intellectual match for anyone. Pretty soon, she was going to have make a clumsy attempt at changing the subject.

      ‘Like you, I thought Luc was happy. We’re both Europeans, immigrants to Scotland, we love active sports and sunshine, we understand the pressures of shiftwork. Perfect, right?’

      Ava managed a small nod. The pain really was quite bad.

      ‘So I keep asking myself, why did he decide it wouldn’t work out? Am I not enough fun, not a good enough cook, do I take life

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