There Is More Light Than Dark

Chapter Twenty One

Thursday July 14

Vincent Sampson sat across from Detective Dean McCoy and tapped the desk lightly in a rhythm. He had long fingernails that got a sharp tap from the hard plastic top of the desk.

Dean McCoy looked at the long fingernails and shook his head. He didn't even try to understand these sorts of things anymore.

McCoy knew he was trying to act cool, maybe for a specific reason, maybe not, but he was pleased the little smart arse was at least ruffled having to come back in all the same. He only had one shot at him and he needed to be sure whether what he felt was real or another one of those that Frank Young had bemoaned an hour or so before.

He'd asked Harper Lewis to be somewhere else, partly so he could go as hard as he felt like he had to and partly because he didn't want any chance for someone to give any quarter to Vincent Sampson.

Dean McCoy tried to tell himself it wasn't a trust thing but failed to be convincing.

'So, Avery's bloods came back from the autopsy as we expected.' McCoy had to stop himself from snarling when he said this because it was not what he had expected. And that gave him the shits.

'Lot of Valium, lot of Endone, lot of E's in there sport. Wouldn't have picked her for someone to be doing all of that shit.'

Vincent continued to tap his fingers to the beat in his head and shrugged.

'Like I said the other day, she was struggling.'

'When is the funeral?' McCoy asked to see whether Vincent had been involved with the planning at all, or in contact with her parents. He also wanted to make sure he was there.

'Next Tuesday, if we get the body back.' Vincent was careful, then concise and clear. 'Family and close friends only.'

McCoy nodded. Vincent might have picked him for what he was fishing for. That was impressive, if frustrating, but he still was giving himself away, McCoy thought. The body – who says that?

'How have you been holding up since it all happened Vincent?' McCoy decided he'd take the long path to get to where he wanted to go and not be a prick all the way through for fear of losing anything he might otherwise gain.

'Been OK. You know, trying to go to work and the usual stuff. Keep a routine.' This much was true. McCoy had ransacked all of his social media posts he could access and nothing much had shown up in the week or so since Avery had died.

'Have you spoken to her father?'

'No way mate. Not interested. The guy's an arsehole.'

This was more like what McCoy was after.

'How about her mother, ah... Georgina?' McCoy pretended to check his notes but he made sure he was looking straight at Vincent as he said her name. Something was going on there.

Whether it be arrogance, hubris or inability to cloak his true feelings Vincent Sampson let a tiny smile spread across his face as he stopped tapping for a few seconds.

'You know, I haven't but I should. She was a great lady. She was.... Great.' Vincent looked square on at Dean McCoy and dared him to go further. But it was 4:45 pm and there was no way he could get to where he needed to if he kept side tracking himself all the time.

'You see Vincent there are a couple of things that are bothering me about Avery's death.' McCoy stopped and waited to see what he would do, but the tapping had resumed and he was looking quite content.