Disclaimer: This story is for fan purposes only. The characters and some of the dialogue are property of their respective owners (not me!) and are used here without permission. Enjoy!
All of England was abuzz with the news of the assassination of rock and roll hacker Nicky Turnbull by a sniper. He had powerful enemies in Whitehall and the Pentagon- not to mention Oxford- after all. But to a select few, the detective in charge of the investigation was more intriguing than the victim. It turns out that Lyn Lewis was not the only one who was tuning in to see her old man on the telly.
Dr. Laura Hobson sneaked into the staff lounge at the mortuary and clicked on the small television. She tried to keep tabs on all the DIs assigned to her cases to make sure they didn't misrepresent her findings to the press. But a smile crept across her lips as she saw DI Robbie Lewis lean towards the microphone. She told herself it was because she could be sure of no missteps with Lewis at the helm; but secretly she was glad for the chance to see him- to stare at him- without his realizing it. After a factual and to-the-point statement though, he turned the media's attention to Mrs. Turnbull.
Mrs. Turnbull seemed to acknowledge that her husband had been fond of drink and young ladies yet she loved him all the same. Hobson shook her head sympathetically, thinking back to her own days at uni. Her louse of an ex-flat-mate crossed her mind. Might she have had to say the same things one day if she had ended up with Alec Pickman? She herself enjoyed being part of an adventurous couple, but as far as matrimony was concerned Hobson had come to the conclusion that she preferred living alone to having to condone someone else's behaviour.
Hobson had done her part in the investigation, now she wanted to share her report with DI Lewis in the flesh. She made sure her hair was perfectly tucked up with just the front layers framing her face before she entered the Oxfordshire police station. Unfortunately, he was out pursuing inquiries pertinent to the investigation. She dropped off her report with Chief Superintendent Innocent but decided to linger at the water cooler on the off-chance that Lewis himself would arrive. Instead, a dark-haired woman approached her.
"Have you any idea what's going on?" the woman asked.
"Very rarely."
"Are you a police woman? Police person…? Sorry, I don't know what they're called."
"No, I'm just an itinerant doctor delivering a file."
"Ah, right."
Hobson realized to whom she had been speaking. She dialled down her tone a bit.
"You're Mrs Turnbull, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"Tough time you're having."
"Aye, you could say."
Hobson partially drew upon the compassion she had felt for Diane Turnbull during the press conference, but was also motivated by a desire to remain in the police station in hopes of seeing Lewis. "Can I offer you a coffee?"
"I'd like that. You know my name, but I don't know yours."
"Laura Hobson, forensic pathologist."
The two women made their way to the coffee dispenser at the end of the corridor, then returned to the interview room where Diane was meant to be waiting for Lewis and Hathaway.
"Do you know anything more about Nicky, then?" Mrs Turnbull inquired.
"Not at this time, I am afraid." Hobson lied so as not compromise the investigation. "I know that there is nothing I can say to put your mind at ease right now, but you should know that DI Lewis is one of the best detectives in Oxford," she offered.
"Aye." Mrs. Turnbull nodded. "I dare say that Robbie was a sight for sore eyes."
Hobson's eyes widened at Turnbull's use of Lewis' first name. She tried to hide her surprise but it was evident in the little sound she emitted, "oh?"
"Forgive me, yes. Robbie and I were at school together many years ago. Would you believe that he was my first boyfriend?"
Laura Hobson was a hard person to catch off guard, but this revelation sent a strange pang of jealousy down her spine. Could it be that fate would reunite the lovely widow with Lewis, a widower himself? Hobson realised that she might have lost someone she hadn't even realized how badly she wanted. True, she had always had a bit of a work crush on the recently returned detective, but there is nothing like a rival to reveal the genuine affection that she'd been harbouring for Lewis.
"Small world," Hobson mustered.
"It didn't come to anything, all those years ago. I always liked a bad boy, and Robbie Lewis was too safe for me." Mrs. Turnbull shared. "Still, I guess that's what a woman needs sometimes." After a pause she added, "he's a lovely man."
"Yes, he is." Hobson agreed, and then buried her face suspiciously in her coffee cup. She felt another common bond between them- Hobson was certain that when she was young, Lewis would have been too safe for her as well. But now? She fancied the idea that she could be more than just an itinerant doctor in Robbie Lewis' life. When she lifted her gaze once more, she asked, "will you be staying in Oxford long?"
"Just long enough to be able to collect some of Nicky's things, though I don't know how long that will take. I couldn't stand the hotel, and I fear I may wear out my welcome with Robbie."
Hobson felt her insides twist with jealously once more. This time, she was absolutely speechless but her eyes begged Mrs Turnbull for the details.
"To save your asking, yes, I'm staying at Robbie's flat," Mrs Turnbull continued. "He managed to persuade his Chief Superintendent that it wouldn't be a conflict of interest."
Dr. Hobson was unconvinced. How could Innocent allow that? Hobson silently cursed the Chief Super.
"Anyway, Lewis was already gone by the time I woke up this morning. Still, his sergeant was an amiable breakfast companion."
"Ah yes, the dishy Sergeant Hathaway," Hobson smiled with a hint of wickedness.
"Dishy? And here I was getting the impression that you fancied Robbie."
Hobson internally cringed at her own transparency and tried to downplay Turnbull's observation. "What? Hardly. No, it's just that I've known Lewis for over ten years now, as colleagues, and I hope friends…"
"I see." Mrs Turnbull paused. "Can I ask you, then, how did his wife die? The way he talks about her, he's still very much in love."
Hobson nodded. That was the Lewis that she knew. "Val was killed in a hit and run in London. The Met never found the driver. Lewis and their two kids were devastated."
"But the kids are gone now; he must be lonely." Diane Turnbull surmised.
"The job keeps him busy." Hobson offered. Her mobile chirped. "As it does me, I am afraid." She looked at the message on her mobile and realised she would have to return to the mortuary without seeing Lewis. "My condolences again, Mrs. Turnbull."
"Thank you, Dr. Hobson."
Dr. Hobson was fidgety and unable to focus on her work the rest of the day. She replayed the conversation with Diane Turnbull in her mind over and over, reading between every line. When it seemed that she had gleaned every possible inference, her imagination took over. She had never been to Lewis' flat herself, so she began to paint a scene in her mind of what it might look like. She saw the two grieving spouses on a couch sharing their experiences in marriage- a turbulent one for the Turnbulls, compared to the Lewis' relative stability. Of course, Lewis would console Mrs Turnbull in the flat conjured up by Hobson.
When Dr. Hobson arrived home, her instinct was to go her closet and rifle through the suitcase that she had already started packing for her upcoming holiday. There it was, the item she was looking for: a package of cigarettes. She ripped off the cellophane and held one in her trembling hand. She did not have a lighter- should she light a match?
"OK, just stop this nonsense," she told herself aloud. "I am a social smoker." Dr Hobson had done her fair share of autopsies on tar-filled lungs and knew the risks. Nevertheless, when on holiday she would be looking to meet new people in new places. Cigarettes acted as a conduit into different groups. Hobson sighed at her own stupid rationale and realised for a third time that she really couldn't criticise Diane Turnbull for her life decisions.
She shoved the cigarettes into her pocket and decided that she needed to get out for a while. She headed to her favourite place for Indian take-away.
When Hobson arrived out front of the restaurant, she noticed a man smoking outside. As soon as Hathaway noticed her in return, he blushed in embarrassment. He immediately dropped his cigarette and crushed it with his foot.
She approached him and said, "don't be daft, James. It's been a long day." She produced her own cigarettes from her handbag, offered Hathaway a fresh one, and asked him to her light hers. He was surprised but obliged her request.
As they each waited for their take-away for one, Hathaway filled Hobson in on the end of the Turnbull case. As he rubbed his neck, Hathaway explained how a disgruntled member of the Oxford Union had taken out Nicky Turnbull.
"Is your neck all right, James?" the good doctor inquired.
"I had to babysit Mrs. Turnbull last night, Chief Super's orders. Let's just say that I'm looking forward to sleeping in my own bed tonight," Hathaway said.
Hobson saw her opening. "Ah yes, quite the pyjama party at Lewis' flat I hear." She took a drag off her cigarette and exhaled.
Hathaway gawped at her. "How did you know?"
"I spoke with Diane Turnbull at the police station today."
"Well, I have no idea what Innocent was thinking letting Lewis bring her home, but it meant that I spent the night on my governor's couch. Not that I needed to. Lewis behaved like a priest. Better than most priests I know, in fact."
Hobson didn't understand Innocent's logic either, but she was glad that Innocent had at least forced Hathaway to chaperone even if Lewis always kept the world at arms' length.
Still, there was a question burning in Hobson's mind. "Can I assume that Mrs. Turnbull will soon be returning to her own home then?"
"I don't think she'd stay with her host any longer. Lewis had some rather unpleasant questions for her down at the station about her marriage to Nicky."
Hobson was placated at last. "Well, Sergeant, it's been a pleasure, but I have to grab my curry."
"Likewise, Doctor." Hathaway held the door for Hobson as they entered to get their respective dinners.
Hobson settled in back home, bolstered by a good curry and a bottle of wine. The absurdity of the situation hit her and she began to laugh. Now she pictured a grieving-yet-calculating widow whose husband had cheated on her seeking comfort in the arms of an old friend, only to have Hathaway along to play interference. Yet ultimately Hathaway's presence was moot seeing how as Lewis was still married to the ghost of his late wife. He'd not even consider doing anything that might exceed the bounds of friendship.
Hobson decided that maybe she was OK with being the itinerant doctor in Lewis's life for the time being. She would make sure their paths continued to cross, for one day he would need some doctoring.
Meanwhile, in a lonely flat across town, a hint of a smile flickered across Lewis' lips. Hobson fancies me? He took a sip of his Newcastle Brown. Nah. Just Diane trying to flatter me. Still, nice thought, though…