The Careless Word (#8 - The Craig Crime Series) by Catriona King Read Free Book Online

looking like a giant blancmange, according to Katy.” He waved them all to take a seat and Nicky put the coffee on to perk.
    “OK. That’s enough wedding talk, at least until Liam and I leave. We’re heading to St Mary’s to see the consultant after her ward-round but I wanted to catch you all first and start things rolling.” He indicated Liam. “Liam will update you on the explosion site, I’ll bring you up-to-date with the lab findings and then we’ll both tell you about our visit to the hospital last night.”
    He nodded Liam on and mimicked drinking a cup of coffee to Nicky. As she brought it over Craig saw that a lemon biscuit accompanied it. He smiled, knowing that they were doomed to be wedding themed for the next two weeks.
    Liam sniffed loudly before starting. In the absence of hair to rake it was the most fitting detective gesture he could think of. It implied knowledge that no-one else held and a slightly jaded view of life; well it did on the TV anyway, to Annette it seemed to imply something else.
    “Are you getting a cold, Liam? I’ve some Lemsip in my desk.”
    Craig smiled to himself, knowing that Annette had just ruined Liam’s big moment but not sure if she’d done it deliberately or not. The beatific smile on her face gave no clues. Before Liam could remonstrate Craig waved him on.
    “Aye, well, the scene. Basically the place was blown to buggery. It was a one- roomed shop with a wee staff area and toilet off the back leading out to a yard. As far as we could make out the room had free-standing bookshelves, as well as the ones around the walls.” He was interrupted by Nicky handing him a mug and a slice of yellow and white Battenberg. He took a deep slurp of coffee and continued, eyeing the cake as he did. “What was left of the bookshelves was on the floor, brushed to one side by the army forensic lads.” He added hastily. “After our C.S.I.s had done their stuff of course. It was mostly wood shards and paper, ripped to bits.” He snorted. “If those books were worth a fortune, they aren’t any more.”
    Davy interrupted unexpectedly, with a faraway look in his eyes. “I bought my Dad a first edition from there the year before he died. It w…was beautiful. Leather bound with a gold embossed title.”
    Craig saw Liam about to speak and caught his eye, silencing his response. It was the first time Davy had ever mentioned his parents and it was a sign of something; after almost three years on the team he felt safe enough to confide in them. They knew very little about Davy, except that he was exceptionally bright and Queen’s University kept asking him back to do his doctorate. Craig knew they would lose him to research someday; it was only a matter of when. But they knew nothing more except that the young Emo was desperately shy, something that his stutter had signposted from the start. Craig’s asked the question quietly.
    “When was that, Davy?”
    Davy glanced up, surprised, as if he’d intended to say the words only to himself; then he smiled. “Four years ago. He w…was… w…was…”
    Craig knew from Davy’s increased stuttering that the next words were painful for him to say. He leaned forward encouragingly.
    “It w…was a car accident. On the Lisburn Road.”
    “I’m sorry, Davy. We didn’t know.”
    Davy smiled and Craig knew he was remembering his father in happier times. “My Dad loved books; he was a Professor of Literature. I bought it for him with my first month’s s…salary.”
    He suddenly sat up very straight and Craig knew it signified the end of the confidence. Davy waved Liam on before he could and Liam picked up the conversation and ran with it for ten minutes, accurately describing the scene and the location of the bomb. He mimicked Ken Smith’s pukka English accent perfectly, making everyone laugh. Craig wondered idly when someone would start calling mimicry racism; the powers that be shifted their politically correct goalposts every day.