Blood Upon The Snow: A DCI Cieran Black Scottish Crime Thriller by Ramsay Sinclair

Author:Ramsay Sinclair [Sinclair, Ramsay]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

13

Detectives Hunter and Black raced to get back to Canisbay. They drove as fast as possible to get to the closed school, which had become their base of operations, but the heavy snow and howling winds slowed them down. It was two hours before the squad car, which had clearly not been designed for the Highland weather, finally pulled into the small car park to the side of the school building.

The detectives stormed into the classroom, the door swinging closed behind them, but as they burst inside, their hearts sank.

The classroom had been dimly lit before, but now it was well and truly shrouded in darkness. The storm outside had knocked out the power, and without any artificial sources of light combined with the setting sun, a disorientating darkness filled every corner of the room.

Officer Keogan, who had been working diligently on the case from the abandoned classroom, appeared to have anticipated the power issue. He had already set up several candles, and their flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the room. The soft amber glow lit up the crime board, which now featured pictures of Merritt Duncan’s murdered body alongside reports from her autopsy.

“We get power outages all the time in winter,” the young police officer said as he passed both Detective Black and Detective Hunter bulky metal torches. “Pretty much everywhere is stocked with candles and torches.”

Both Anderson and Fraser, who were bundled up in heavy sweaters, scarves, and gloves, looked up from their work. Their breath was visible in the cold air. Apparently, when the storm knocked out the power, it took with it the heating. Fraser couldn’t help but crack a grin at the situation.

“Well, folks, it seems that we’re solving a murder by candlelight tonight,” he quipped. “Who’s up for a little ‘detective-noir’ action?”

“Did you know there's a genre called tartan-noir?” Anderson responded. “It’s about Scottish detectives.”

“Oh my god!” Fraser exclaimed, “That’s you guys, the tartan-noir detectives. You should trademark that. Make it a brand.”

Cieran grimaced as he shivered. There would be nothing the man would hate more than becoming a brand.

Officer Keogan, noticing just how cold Detective Black seemed, came over with a pile of knitwear and blankets. “It’s not the best, but we’ve not got much to work with here,” the officer said.

At that moment, Detective Black didn’t care, and neither did Detective Hunter. They both scrambled to dress in the warm jumpers and scarves. Cieran slipped on a knit beanie, and Detective Hunter grabbed a pair of gloves.

Anderson and Fraser were both still blethering about how best to market the detectives as a brand when Detective Black cleared his throat.

“Anderson, your phone call. What was that about? We could hardly make anything out.”

“Right, dearie,” the older woman said. “Of course. Me and the good Doctor Campbell did those tests that Officer Keogan sent over, and it turns out Merritt Duncan has zero evidence of cyanide poisoning.”

“Oh, you are kidding. So we’re back to having no cause of death? That’s just great. Perfect,” Detective Black said bitterly.

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