Perfect Crime. Helen Fields

shot,’ he growled. ‘Hang on. You’re up. Try not to drool over all six foot four of him at once, won’t you?’

      All eyes were turned in Ava’s direction. She climbed between the rows of chairs and wished her squad were looking her in the eyes, but everyone was focused on the lump on her head. Her own fault. She’d woken up feeling utterly foolish, not to mention confused, in the bed of her detective inspector. That was a first, and she had no idea how she’d let it happen, even if they were close friends. Why she’d decided to climb over Tantallon Castle wall was equally puzzling. Ava had a dim recollection of feeling cool and heroic, almost as if she’d been showing off to Callanach, only that was ridiculous. They’d been in enough tricky situations that she didn’t have anything to prove. But it had felt good initially to be leaning out in the wind, searching for clues and battling adversity like some ridiculous movie heroine. Now, there was only one question on everyone’s mind, and MIT would be obsessed with gossip and speculation until she dealt with it.

      ‘Welcome to both DC Monroe and DI Graham,’ she said. ‘They’re both starting today, so everyone make sure you’re showing them how we operate and our normal procedures. We have two cases pending trial, so please make sure all the court papers are in order for those.’ There was silence. Fine. ‘I went to take a look at a crime scene last night based on information received from the pathologist. I slipped and fell – they were difficult conditions – hitting my head against a wall. Looks worse than it is and I’m fully fit for duty.

      ‘Now, as I recall, the newly promoted are duty bound to buy the rest of the squad drinks, so DI Graham and DS Tripp will no doubt make themselves available at a suitable pub after shift tonight.’

      That took everyone’s mind off her injuries and caused another round of raucous comments, allowing Ava to slip towards the corridor. She took the corner quietly and headed for her office.

      ‘Ma’am,’ a voice rumbled from behind. She turned back to see DI Graham approaching. ‘You’ll come for a beer tonight, then?’

      ‘I’ll have to see,’ she said. ‘The squad likes to let its hair down when they’re out together and having your DCI there isn’t very conducive to that.’

      ‘My celebration, my rules,’ he replied.

      He was nearly a foot taller than Ava and close up, she had to tilt her neck back to look into his clear blue eyes. It was easy to see why Lively was feeling intimidated by the new boy.

      ‘Let me know where you’re going. My mobile number’s on the squad contact sheet. The first thing you should do is put all those numbers into your phone. I might pop in for a quick one.’

      ‘I’d be offended if you didn’t,’ he smiled. ‘Is there anything in particular you need me on at the moment?’

      ‘Just settle in while you can. In MIT, the work finds us. You won’t need to go looking for it,’ she said, waving goodbye and trying not to limp as she continued walking.

      By the time she reached her office, her leg was sore, and Callanach was waiting for her with coffee and paracetamol.

      ‘Given that you saved my life, I’m pretty sure I should be fetching you coffee,’ she said, dropping into a chair and putting a hand to her forehead.

      ‘If you really felt indebted to me, you’d have called in sick as I suggested.’ Callanach shook two tablets from the pot into her hand.

      ‘Yeah, Overbeck really likes people not turning up to her briefings. I find her particularly sympathetic on that subject.’

      Ava tossed back the pills and swallowed. The phone on her desk rang as she was still trying to wash a tablet down with coffee. She waved a distracted hand at Callanach, who answered for her.

      ‘Is Ava there?’ Dr Ailsa Lambert’s reedy voice twittered down the line.

      Callanach loved the way she never deferred to Ava by rank.

      ‘She’s not. This is Callanach. Can I help?’

      ‘Indeed you can. We’ve made a positive identification of our fall victim. His fingerprints were on the national database, after an incident in which he’d had an offensive weapon in the back of a taxi. Looks like the procurator fiscal was still making a decision on whether or not to pursue the case.’

      Callanach grabbed a pen and paper.

      ‘Name?’ he asked.

      ‘Stephen Berry. Lived in the city. No other convictions. I’ve finished my report save for the tox screen findings and I’m hoping to be able to give you everything tomorrow.’

      ‘I’ll follow up now. Thanks, Ailsa.’

      He sat down at Ava’s computer and identified the case file on Stephen Berry that had been referred to the prosecutor’s office.

      ‘What have we got?’ Ava asked.

      ‘The man with the missing fingernails is Stephen Berry, thirty-two years old. Address is a flat on Comely Bank Row. He was on bail for possessing a large knife, which he revealed to a taxi driver during a journey. Hadn’t proceeded to charge yet, but it’s not clear why. I’ll take Tripp and check it out. You stay in that chair and get some rest.’

      ‘Uh huh, and send someone to massage my feet too, would you?’

      ‘Still funny, even after you nearly fell off the top of a castle. I’ll call in as soon as I have any information.’

      An hour later, Callanach and Tripp were heading into the city, to what appeared to be a private house. The windows were blacked out and the door had a video security system. A minute after they buzzed, a young woman allowed them entry and sat them in a comfy lounge where soft music was being piped gently though speakers. All the artwork featured either calm seas, woodland mists or desert sunrises. Max Tripp picked up a leaflet from the table and read aloud.

      ‘“The Reach You charity was founded in 2002. They have six drop-in centres, do outreach work at a variety of clinics and addiction groups, are accessible through your general practitioner, hospital or hospice, and run a 24–7 suicide helpline.” These guys are really well set up. Says here they got a lottery funding boost in 2006 that allowed them to take on a number of new full-time staff who work with a large team of volunteers.’

      ‘It did,’ a man said as he walked in, holding his hand out to shake Tripp’s. ‘I’m Rune Maclure. How can I help you?’

      ‘I’m DC … DS Tripp,’ Max stumbled, ‘and this is DI Callanach. I’m afraid we have sad news. You were instrumental in talking down a man who was ready to jump from the Queensferry Crossing last month. We got your name from the police statement.’

      ‘Stephen Berry,’ Maclure said quietly, his face falling. He sat down, taking a moment. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

      ‘He died following a fall from the walls of Tantallon Castle. It was instantaneous. The pathologist was clear that he wouldn’t have suffered,’ Callanach said.

      ‘Thank you. I’m afraid the problem with suicide is the amount of suffering it takes to get to the point of ending it all. A second of agony at the end doesn’t even come close to being a concern for most of the people I see.’

      ‘Of course,’ Callanach agreed. ‘Can you tell us what you knew about him?’

      ‘Not very much, to be honest. Reach You is on the emergency services list to provide experts who assist in suicide attempts – either about to happen, or failures – for people who need help afterwards. I assume the taxi driver called it in as soon as he’d let Stephen out of the cab. The police called our central number and they put a call out to see who was in the area. I was nearby and able to be at his side in a few minutes.’

      ‘That was lucky,’ Tripp said.

      ‘Not really. It didn’t save him in the end, did it?’ Maclure rubbed his temple. ‘Our statistics are pretty good. Most people don’t go through