Chapter Five

       4 March

      The Major Investigation Team was buzzing. Detective Superintendent Overbeck had even graced the briefing room for once and was standing in front of the crowd looking at her watch when Ava walked in. The right-hand side of her face was remarkably unscathed, but her left eye was black. The gash along her cheekbone was being held together with butterfly stitches and the bump on her forehead was such a perfect half-egg that it looked almost unreal. Overbeck stared openly at her, arms folded, mouth gaping. Ava went straight to her to apologise.

      ‘Don’t even bother,’ Overbeck said before Ava could get a word out. ‘Is Police Scotland pay really so bad you’re having to audition as an extra in a fucking zombie movie? Just tell me you weren’t on duty at the time, because you’re not suing the department for whatever screw-up you got yourself into.’

      ‘You don’t have to worry about that, ma’am,’ Ava reassured her.

      Overbeck was nothing if not direct, which – being grateful for small mercies – meant most conversations were cuttingly brief.

      ‘Good, let’s get on then.’ Overbeck turned to face the crowd, banging a deserted mug on a table to get quiet. ‘Right, now that the detective chief inspector has joined us, even though you might not particularly enjoy looking at her today …’

      That got Overbeck a laugh. Credit to her, Ava thought. Her boss never missed an opportunity to work a room.

      ‘I want to introduce you to MIT’s new additions and to congratulate’ – Overbeck paused to check her notes – ‘Max Tripp on his promotion to detective sergeant. Most of you have worked with DS Tripp for some time now, and I’m sure you’ll be relieved that there’s now a younger, fitter and less offensive sergeant on your team than just DS Lively.’

      That one was met with an absolute roar of laughter and Lively seemed to be enjoying the attention in spite of the fact that it came wrapped in a bow of insults. Ava looked from Overbeck to Lively. It was only a few months since she’d caught her heel-toting, self-declared queen bitch of a superior in flagrante delicto with the dour, die-hard sergeant and she still hadn’t been able to wipe the memory from her mind. They were about as unlikely a couple as you could imagine and yet Overbeck had still managed to make Ava feel as if she was the sad case.

      ‘Ach, you love me really, ma’am,’ Lively aimed, bravely, at Overbeck.

      Ava waited for the superintendent’s explosion. Their affair wasn’t public knowledge and Lively was asking for trouble by sparring with her in front of the squad.

      ‘That’s right, Sergeant,’ Overbeck said with a smile. ‘Like I love my shoes. I get to tread on them every day, they go where I decide and if there’s any crap, the shoes get it on them rather than me personally. Then, when they get old and scruffy, I throw them in a bin and it’s as if they never existed.’

      That one got not just a laugh, but also a round of applause. Overbeck looked genuinely pleased with herself rather than merely supercilious. Ava couldn’t believe it. Sergeant Lively got away with so much bullshit and now Overbeck wasn’t even rebuking him, just adding to his kudos points with the lads.

      ‘All right,’ Overbeck said when her ego had sucked in enough of the jollity. ‘Our newest team member worked with us before on a temporary placement before going off on maternity leave. I’m delighted to say she’ll now be joining you full time, so please don’t any of you reveal your true natures until she’s settled in a while. Stand up, if you would, DC Janet Monroe.’

      The short, neat Hispanic officer stood up, her dark hair shining in a perfect bun, looking completely at ease in the predominantly male room. Ava was keen to recruit more females into MIT, but it was slow-going and not helped by the locker-room atmosphere. Janet Monroe was tough, smart and more than a match for her new colleagues.

      ‘And, finally, your new detective inspector. Not shipped in from Interpol, I’m afraid, but perhaps you’ll actually be able to understand this one’s accent …’

      There it was, the dig at Callanach. Ava had been waiting for it. She looked across the room to Callanach, who gave a simple shrug. He was used to the abuse.

      ‘Transferring to us with promotion after a long and distinguished period working with undercover teams across Scotland, Detective Inspector Pax Graham.’

      Graham stood. He’d been sitting at the very back, but he couldn’t hide in the most crowded of rooms. Ava wondered how he’d ever been selected for undercover work at his size, and it wasn’t just his height. The man was a mountain – 100 per cent rugby-playing Highlander.

      Overbeck had been almost girlish while they’d been interviewing him. She hadn’t sworn once. Ava wasn’t impressed by muscles, but Graham had proved himself invaluable in the department’s last major operation. He pushed the rules when it was necessary to get results, and had shown himself to be both trustworthy and decent.

      Ava was pretty sure he wasn’t just playing the promotion game. She had no time for police who wanted to climb the ladder as quickly as possible. That wasn’t the point of service. Pax Graham had seen his share of danger and discomfort. He was popular with his superiors, as his references had proved, but equally well liked by his peers, which was a much more significant compliment. You could be the best manager in the world, but if the men and women under your command didn’t like you, they wouldn’t respect you, either.

      Graham moved to the front of the room to many slaps on the back and congratulations. Overbeck shook his hand and ceded the floor.

      ‘Thank you,’ he grinned. ‘Some of you have worked with me in previous operations, but if not you’ll find out I like to keep my head down and get on with the job. I’m looking forward to working alongside DI Callanach.’

      As he continued to introduce himself, DS Lively stood up and made his way between bodies to stand at Ava’s side.

      ‘Were there no other options for the post?’ he whispered. ‘It’s like someone drew a cartoon character of an eighteenth-century Scot and brought him to life.’

      ‘You’re not serious,’ Ava muttered in response. ‘Are you never bloody satisfied? Do you remember what you put DI Callanach through for being French when he started? Now you’ve got the archetypal Celt and you’re still not happy.’

      ‘You’re right there. Do you see the look on the boss’s face? That’s more than just professional courtesy.’ Lively crossed his arms and frowned.

      Ava smiled at him. ‘Sergeant, are you actually jealous? Please say you are. That would make me happy in a way I thought I was too cynical ever to feel again.’

      ‘Due respect, ma’am, sod off,’ Lively said. ‘So who did you get in a fight with?’

      ‘A wall,’ Ava said. ‘Misjudged it.’

      ‘Shame I missed that,’ Lively said, back on his usual form.

      ‘You’d have enjoyed it. I was wondering who to pair you with for the next investigation. Let me know if you’d prefer to be on DI Graham’s team or back with Callanach.’