Page 109 of Hang on St. Christopher

CHAPTER17

YOUNG LOCHINVAR’S RETURN

Pale, blond, skinny, eager, smart—Lawson looked exactly the same after his holiday in the sun.

“Spain, you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Was it raining the whole time?”

“No, sir.”

“No, it wouldn’t be, would it? The rain in Spain stays mainly on the plain, so I’ve been told. And you were on the coast.”

“Exactly, sir.”

“Well, you’re the only person I’ve ever met who has come back from Spain whiter than when he left.”

“I did put on a lot of sunblock admittedly, sir.”

Lawson was pleased to see me, but I could tell that something was up. And that something was pretty obvious. It was a hell of an awkward situation. Lawson was the gaffer of Carrick CID. It was his department and his show. But now he apparently had to work with Sergeant McCrabban, who was the same rank as he but had a decade of seniority on him. And worse, he had to work with me, an inspector, a full rank above him and with even more seniority.

Lawson let go of my hand.

Here come the fireworks, I was thinking, but Lawson was cut from a different cloth than the other jokers around here.

“Listen, sir, I was thinking about this. Until this investigation runs its course, how about if you reassume temporary command of Carrick CID? I know it’s my manor now, but it’s going to be a bit weird if I take over this investigation. You’re a DI, after all.”

“You’re a good lad, Lawson. A very good lad. But... well... there have been a few developments since last we spoke.”

I told him about the Brendan O’Roarke connection, about Special Branch taking over the case, about the second murder, about the chief inspector saying that he didn’t want to pay Crabbie and me.

“So you see, Lawson, there’s not much for us to do here anymore. Our case has effectively been absorbed into a wider Special Branch investigation, and we’re out on our ear.”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware of that, sir. I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. Not all of us need closure. Some of us are content with open-textured endings, you know?”

“If you say so, sir.”

The office door opened, and a grinning Chief Inspector McArthur burst into the room.

“Lawson! You’re back! Well done. Well done!” he exclaimed, shaking Lawson’s hand with delight.

“Yes, sir, I’m back,” Lawson agreed.

“It’s good to see you, son. Good to see you. It hasn’t been easy in your absence. But we managed.”

“Yes, sir, with the able assistance of DI Duffy, sir.”

“Oh, yes, of course. Duffy,” McArthur said, seeming to notice me for the first time. “And I suppose you’ll be heading on now, Duffy.”

I nodded. “Yes, I suppose so, sir. I don’t have a case.”

“No more overtime for either you or Sergeant McCrabban!” McArthur said, practically laughing with delight. “You should see some of the memos I’ve had about that from Inspector Dalziel. Whoa!”

“I can imagine, sir,” I said.

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