Page 46 of Better the Devil

‘No, I know, you always made it look easy,’ Hamza agreed.

Ben smiled. ‘I never struggled with it because I always just delegated it,’ he said. ‘To you.’

Hamza shot him a questioning look.

‘All those scenes. All those murders. When did you ever see me dishing out orders? Coordinating anyone? Making sure everything was under control?’

‘Well…’ Hamza began. ‘I mean…’

‘You did that, son. You’ve always done that, from detective constable onwards. Moreso after we lost Caitlin. I never asked you to, never told you to, you just knew what needed doing, and you made sure it got done. That’s all this job is. That’s all any job is, I suppose.’

Hamza stared ahead again, considering this.

‘When whoever gets the DS job steps up?—’

‘Sinead, probably,’ Hamza said.

Ben nodded. ‘Oh, God, aye, almost certainly. But, whoever it is, they’ll start stepping into that role, too. They’ll take on some of that responsibility. Which is good. Because—and here’s the secret to being a DI in this team, son, so listen closely—managing crime scenes isn’t the point of your job. Hell, solving murders isn’t the point of your job.’

Ben pointed towards the station, roughly in the direction of the MIT Incident Room.

‘Your job is managing Jack Logan. And, believe me, that can be a full-time gig.’ He patted his stomach, right on the spot where a gunshot wound had almost ended him. ‘And, quite frankly, it should come with danger money.’

Hamza smiled, but it felt forced. ‘I don’t know…’

‘Jack brought me in to show you the ropes. If I’d been honest with him, I’d have told him the truth,’ Ben said. ‘There’s nothing I can teach you, son. There was never anything I could teach you. You’ve got this. You’re ready for it. You always have been.’

There was a crack in his voice. He quickly looked away, out of the side window, away from the station, away from his old life, and off in the direction of his new one. The café stood just beyond the car park, its grey slate roof just visible above a cluster of garages.

‘This was nice, though. Coming back like this,’ Ben said quietly. ‘But you don’t need me here. Not really. I should get back.’

Hamza reached a hand into his pocket.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ he said.

Ben turned back to the DI. Two Blue Ribband biscuits sat waiting in his hand.

‘You ask me, I think I’ve still got a whole lot to learn.’

Ben considered the offered biscuits for a few moments, then took one.

‘You’ll want to hang onto that for later. Long days like these, you’ll get an afternoon energy dip. There’s a wee hidey-hole in the bottom drawer of that desk where you can stash it away.’

‘Nice one. Can you show me?’

Ben peeled open the wrapper of his biscuit, took a thoughtful bite, then nodded.

‘No bother, son,’ he said. ‘Just you lead the way.’

Hamza started to move, then stopped.

‘One thing, though. That thing today. The press stuff, how come I never saw you doing that?’

‘Oh that? That’s easy,’ Ben told him. He chewed, swallowed, then shrugged. ‘I always just told them to shove it up their arse.’

Tyler was halfwayacross the car park, and had just waved to the approaching Hamza and Ben, when his phone rang.

‘It’s Sinead,’ he said for the benefit of Logan, who was marching ahead towards the station.