Today was DI Ben Forde’s lucky day. Moira Corson, the po-faced guardian of the Fort William Police Station front desk—and, by extension, the one with control of the buzzer that opened the door to the rest of the station—was nowhere to be seen when he entered the building. Instead, a young female constable stood behind the glass screen and met him, DS Hamza Khaled, and the uniformed Constable David Davidson with a warm and welcoming smile.

“Hello!” Ben called from halfway across the reception. “The dragon on her tea break, is she?”

The smile faltered. “Sorry?”

“The dragon. Moira. She’s usually here,” Ben said, coming to a stop at the waist-high counter. He peered past the young constable into the office behind her. “What’s she doing, counting her gold?”

“Is that no’ leprechauns?” asked Dave.

“Dragons sleep on a bed of gold,” Ben said, shooting a slightly disappointed look at the man in the wheelchair. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, though, and he turned back to the constable behind the glass with a questioning, “Right?”

“I… don’t know,” the young officer replied. “Were you looking for Moira?”

“No. God, no! Trying to avoid her, if anything,” Ben said, lowering his voice to a stage whisper. He stole another look through the door of the office. “She through there, is she?”

“No. She’s off today, actually,” the constable told him.

“Oh! Right! That’s a relief, then,” Ben said. “Well, you’d better sign us in, then! I’m DI Forde, this is—”

“I know, sir. You can go right through.”

Ben hesitated. “Oh. Good. Right through?” he asked.

“I’ll buzz you in.”

“Right.” Ben nodded. “You don’t need us to fill out any forms, or anything?”

“No, sir.”

“Don’t need to sign anything, or…?” Ben prompted. “It’s just, usually there’s a bit of back and forth. And, well, Moira’s a bit of a pain in the arse about it all, and then she eventually gives in and…” He glanced at the door beside them which led into the station proper. “We can… We can just go through?”

A button was pressed. A buzzer sounded. A lock disengaged.

“That’s right, sir,” the junior officer said. “No paperwork necessary. We’ve got it all from last time, and I can check you in.”

“Nice one. Thanks!” Hamza said, already heading for the door. Dave Davidson rocked onto the back wheels of his wheelchair and spun himself around to follow, leaving Ben hovering around at the counter.

“Aye. Aye, nice one,” he said. “Thank you, Constable…”

“Elliot, sir. Carrie Elliot.”

“Good. Good, good,” Ben said. He tapped his hands on the counter, glanced once more at the office door, then smiled. “Thanks, Carrie. Much easier this way. Without all the…” He pointed between them a few times, simulating the usual back and forth, then nodded. “Right, then.”