DISCLAIMER: - 'The Bill' characters depicted in this story are copyrighted to Thames Television/Pearson Corp. All other characters depicted in this story are copyrighted to the relevant author or creator.
COMEDY OF COUPLING
The stage lights shone down onto her bright, smiling face, setting the beautiful green eyes alight as she faced her final-night audience. She drank in their wild applause, raising her hand high into the air, and took her last bow. She deserved this, and she knew it.
Her co-stars joined her before the curtain fell; the director, producer and writer pushily barging their way into the line with all the arrogance men like them had. They all looked out over the sea of faces, each drawing their own individual glory. She barely knew the others were there. That applause was for her, the cheers, whistles and shouts belonged to no one else but her. Another month and it would be the same all over again, with a new director, new co-stars, new stage and a new audience. But the acknowledgement would still be hers - hers and hers alone.
The curtain finally fell, and gradually the applause died. One by one, the others left the stage to start the alcohol flowing. She was left alone, taking her last breath of the atmosphere she had created. Once it had meant so much to her, had brought tears to her eyes, made her heart swell until it was near to bursting. Her smiles and gestures had been genuine, her elation real. Now, however, they were just part of the show. Nothing else. She'd done this too many times for it to mean anything of huge importance. Just another final night. Just another audience, another play, another pay cheque.
As the fixed smile died from her face, she moved off the stage and into the wings. She saw something out the corner of her eye, a fleeting shadow, the slightest of movements. She stopped and looked around her, but saw nothing. Thinking little else of it, she continued down the stairs towards her dressing room. A pair of eyes watched her go, and glinted knowingly
X X X
"Jesus Christ, this is a load of crap!" The familiar Scouse tones broke the silence in the room.
Five pairs of eyes moved to settle on the speaker. John Boulton shrugged defensively and looked back at his colleagues with his usual stubbornness.
"Just what I was gonna say," Don agreed quickly, on the side of blokes to the end.
"An' me," contributed Mickey with his usual helpfulness.
"Oh, shut up." Kerry deliberately leant forward and turned up the volume on the TV version of Gone With The Wind. "No one's forcing you to watch it."
"Excuse me! Claire's threatened to hammer me with the remote if I make so much as a comment!" John started up with some heat.
He was silenced as his girlfriend promptly followed up on her threat and smartly whacked him on the back of the head with the plastic control.
"Oi! That telly was brand new last week!" Duncan was beginning to regret inviting his colleagues round for the evening whilst Shona was away. "Gimme that remote!"
He scrambled up from his armchair as John grabbed hold of Claire to try and wrestle the remote away from her. He snatched it away before either could win, saving John from another clout.
"God, you're no fun." John, with several cans of lager and some strange Scottish brandy inside him, was in a particularly relaxed mood.
"Least I'm not acting like a sixteen-year-old!" Duncan snorted impressively.
He was disheartened to find no one was taking the slightest bit of notice of him. Mickey had gone off in search of more alcohol, and Duncan could only pray the DC wouldn't find the ten-year single malt Shona had been saving. Don's attention had returned to his curry and the orange liquid was coming dangerously close to dripping off his naan bread onto the white shag-pile carpet. Kerry was concentrating on the film once again, finding Rhett Butler a hell of a lot more interesting than her real-life company. And John and Claire had stretched out across the couch again, entwined in each other's arms, and were whispering between themselves with their faces centimetres apart. He might as well just not be there; none of that lot would notice if he wasn't.
He gallantly averted his gaze as the couple's lips met in a slow, lingering kiss. It really had been a lot easier when they'd kept their relationship a secret, and a hell of a lot less hassle. He didn't know what to do now, when they would stand in the middle of the office with their arms wrapped round each other, kiss anywhere including at the coffee machine in front of uniform, and walk around as if they were joined at the hip.
"I'm bored," John announced once he'd regained the proper use of his mouth, and grinned innocently as Claire's elbow connected with his ribs. "...I mean..."
"You mean you're being an annoying arsehole and you're going to shut up right now."
"Is it nearly finished?" Mickey reappeared with another glassful of something.
"No!" Kerry's look could have killed. "It only started half an hour ago!"
"Oh God!" All four men moaned in unison.
Five minutes later the front door slammed as the men escaped to the pub, and finally gave the women peace for the first time all night. Claire found a bottle of nice-looking single malt hidden behind a stack of plates in the kitchen, and they set about consuming it before the lads returned, to the background of "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."
X X X
Six members of CID were feeling particularly delicate the next morning. Their colleagues watched with great amusement as they fought over the coffee and searched desks for elusive paracetamol, rarely being successful. It had turned out that the lads were less worse-for-wear after nearly three hours down the pub than Claire and Kerry were after half an hour with the Scotch. All except Mickey had swore never to drink again, as was a regular occurrence every Monday morning.
"Duncan's never gonna let us in the front door again." John leant over Claire's chair to speak into her ear, and swipe her coffee.
"Get off! Is he still going on about the whiskey?"
"Apparently its from the family distillery. He's been saving it for ten years."
"Shouldn't have left it lying around, then."
"Claire!" Deakin's shout through his open door quietened the office. "I need a word, when you've got a free minute." He looked pointedly at John.
John glared back but retreated to his own desk as Claire reluctantly got up and moved to Deakin's office.
"Heavy night?" The DI's eyes were amused.
Claire's weren't. "Something like that, guv."
"I suppose I don't really want to know. Have a seat."
Claire shut the door and moved to lean against the window, hers and John's usual position. She tried to ignore the pounding hammers in her skull and concentrate on what Deakin was saying. Bloody Duncan and his bloody Scotch.
"Claire, are you listening to a word I'm saying?"
"Yeah, guv... Something about..."
Deakin glared at her. "I said; have you ever heard of an actress called Carrie McDonnell?"
"Name rings a bell. Don't know anything about her though, not a big star or anything."
"No, she isn't. Was quite well known in the sixties in the theatre, but she's never had a major shot. She took a break a few years ago, but she's back doing plays again now. She's just arrived in the West End to do some Arthur Miller thing or another..."
"Don't tell me, you want me to get you tickets." Claire interrupted.
"No, Claire, I don't."
"Then why're you telling me about this woman?" She wasn't in the mood for Cryptic Crossword.
Deakin wasn't put off. "Apparently she's got a stalker. Been sending her dodgy letters, trying it on over the phone, even sent her his underwear at one point. He leaves little presents for her at the theatre – chocolates, flowers, lingerie, the lot, but no one's got a bloody clue who he is. We don't know how far he's prepared to go. In fact, the only thing we do know is he's infatuated with this actress."
"How nice for her. Why should I be bothered?"
"Because you're gonna keep her safe from him."
Claire's eyes sparked instantly, her jaw tightening. "You what?! Since when do we do the West End's dirty work?! That's WEC's patch; it's their problem!"
"No, Claire, it's our problem."
"How'd you work that out?!"
"Ms McDonnell has specifically requested officers from Sun Hill to take on the case. She won't have anyone else near her or her play. So unless we want to risk a murder we could prevented, we've got to take this one."
"But... I mean... why...?"
"She grew up in Sun Hill. When she was performing as a kid, she always had a Sun Hill copper playing bodyguard for the evening. Seems like she's still got trust in our ability."
"Can't we persuade her to have trust in WEC's ability?"
"No, Claire, we can't. I've picked you specially for the job; we need a bit of diplomacy on this one." Deakin seemed pleased with himself, and with Claire's reaction. "I think you're one of my most tactful officers and hopefully you'll be able to deal with Ms. McDonnell."
"Oh, I'm sure I'll have no bloody problems," Claire muttered, far from amused. "Can I have John with me?"
"No, you cannot! You'd both be dismissed the second he opened his mouth! I want tact and diplomacy, not aggression and bloody hell-raising!"
"Guv, that's not on!"
"When it comes to John Boulton, it's perfectly on!"
Claire gave him a look of pure ice. "Who am I being partnered with then?"
"Kerry."
"Kerry?!"
"You got a problem with her now?"
"No, guv. I'm just thinking that it might not be the best idea to put two women against someone who could turn out to be a six foot five, 20 stone boxer!"
"Don't you start dramatising! I've had that all morning from some bloody agent!"
"Guv, I'm sorry, but I'm not happy."
"Well, I'm sorry, but there's no one else. Duncan and Geoff are in court all week. Mickey's not moving from the office until he's finished that mountain of paperwork sitting on his desk. Danny's on holiday, Don's doing that obbo on the Cockroft for the rufees dealer and I'm not going within five miles of any egomaniacal actress. So that leaves you and Kerry."
"And John."
"No! Not and John!"
"Just give him a chance, guv. If he screws up, you can tell him to sod off and leave me and Kerry to deal with it. I just think it'll be safer for everyone, including this actress, if we've got a bit of brawn to go with the brains."
"And I suppose you and Kerry are the brains, of course."
"Of course."
Deakin allowed a smile. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to have a bit of back- up in case anything turns nasty."
"Exactly."
"But I'm not happy."
"Didn't expect you to be."
"And I don't want you two to be too busy staring into each other's eyes to notice a bloke standing in the wings with a knife."
"Guv, we'll be totally professional. This actress won't even know we're together."
Deakin looked heavenwards. "Get John in here."
John entered the office wondering what the hell was going on. Less than a minute later, the entire office heard his reaction.
"You've gotta be bloody joking!!!!"
X X X
"I can't believe you did this to me!" John hissed.
"I thought I was doing you a favour!" Claire shot back.
"Well you weren't! What do I want to go near some over-polished stuck-up cow for?!"
"Because..."
"When you two have quite finished?" Deakin gave them both a glare as the four officers, now including Kerry, sat side-by-side outside Brownlow's office, waiting to be summoned to meet their celebrity 'victim'. "If you're going to kill each other, wait until you're well away from me. I don't intend to get caught up in the bloodshed."
John ignored the DI completely. "If you think I'm gonna be nice to her, put up with any baby tempers, or any other crap she's got in her stupid little brain, you've all got another think coming."
"Claire..." Deakin started up.
"He'll be the perfect gentleman, guv. Don't worry."
Somehow Deakin didn't manage to look convinced. Kerry grinned to herself and exchanged knowing looks with Claire. John just stared straight ahead and wondered why God created women. Then he thought back to the night before, and remembered.
"Mr Deakin? Would you and the officers like to go in?" Brownlow's secretary glanced over at them, making sure she looked down her nose at John, as was customary.
Deakin got to his feet, giving the couple his most pointed look. "Just remember; smile and agree with everything. And don't mention egos."
Claire's elbow found her boyfriend's ribs just to reinforce the point. "If you step one foot out of line, I'll hit you with more than a TV remote."
John nearly choked trying not to laugh as he followed the others into the firing line, giving the door a shove to shut it behind him. The bang echoed round the quiet office, making Brownlow glare in his direction. John didn't even grace him with a glance, his gaze being drawn to the woman standing in front of the Superintendent's desk.
Carrie McDonnell was older than he'd imagined, well over fifty, but preserved like some delicate china doll. She instantly struck him as being just the sort to look down her nose at everyone, think she owned the world. She was nearly as tall as him, but almost fragilely slim, without a inch of fat on her, and looked as if she had spent a great deal of money fighting the lines of age. He knew almost immediately that she was not going to be easy to handle. She was the stereotypical spoilt, egotistical actress used to getting her own way at the click of a finger. Things would undoubtedly get interesting if she tried anything on with him.
Brownlow cleared his throat awkwardly, more than aware that John, and indeed Deakin, were checking his guest out not merely from a professional point of view.
"Ms McDonnell, these are the officers that have been assigned to your case." He quickly recovered his composure and got to his feet with the usual pathetic politeness he reserved for highly important people. "My detective inspector, Chris Deakin."
John studied his shoes with great interest as his colleagues were introduced to the actress, never once looking up.
"And Detective Sergeant John Boulton."
Expressionless, John raised his head and reached out to shake the hand that was gracefully extended to him. The surprise registered in the actress's face for a split second as he applied his usual pressure for a naturally firm handshake, but she was back to smiling brightly within a second. She was so false that John wondered if she was actually real underneath.
"A pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Boulton."
"Yeah," he muttered, uncomfortably shifting as he felt her eyes sweep over him. Jesus Christ, this woman was nearly old enough to be his mother, and she was checking him out. Thank God he was going to have Claire with him.
He averted his gaze again, but her eyes didn't move from him. He could feel her taking in every detail, photographing him with her eyes. He felt an incredible urge to tell her to take a picture; it'd last longer, but managed to resist the temptation.
"Have you ever seen any of my plays?" The fake smile hadn't faltered.
"Didn't even know you existed until the DI told me," John replied with his own fake cheerfulness. He was delighted to see the smile fade almost immediately.
"Yes, thank you, John." Brownlow jumped in with a look of something halfway between horror and complete cynicism. He'd known this would happen. Put John Boulton in a situation requiring the least bit of discretion, and the result would be chaos. "Ms. McDonnell, are you sure you wouldn't rather let West End Central deal with this? I'm sure they're much better equipped than us..." He made one last attempt to save the station's reputation before John Boulton trod all over it his size tens.
"I don't know Central. I know Sun Hill, and I have the best faith in its officers, if they're anywhere near as good as the ones I used to know. Which I'm sure they are." She replaced the smile with one more dazzling, aimed directly at John.
"Well, you certainly won't be bored by them, Ms McDonnell," Deakin contributed. "Let's put it that way."
X X X
John flicked through the sheaf of papers Deakin had presented them with at the briefing.
"I suppose you've got a problem, John." The DI noticed his look.
"Yeah, I have, actually..."
"What a surprise."
John continued without missing a beat. "Why'd we have to stay at the hotel? We've gotta put up with her all day, and then we've gotta spend the night five yards away from her as well?"
"For God's sake, John! You're getting free accommodation at the London Dock! What more d'you want?"
"To go home and get away from her at the end of the day."
"Well too bad. Anyway, its not like you're gonna be in the same room as her. Her suite's next door to yours."
"Oh fancy that," John drawled in his best Scouse scally tones. "So we'll get to be a whole ten metres apart."
"Stop moaning."
John scowled. "Why can't she have a flat like everyone else?"
"Because she's based in Bath!"
"Bloody stupid place for an actress to be based. And why doesn't she just buy a flat?"
"John, shut up."
"But..."
"But nothing. You're not going to be with her twenty-four seven. You'll get chance to go home."
"And we only have to play bodyguard until we sort this stalker problem out, right?"
Deakin sighed. "Yes, John."
"Then this is gonna be the fastest clear-up in the history of Sun Hill. I'll say two days tops."
Claire and Kerry grinned. Deakin didn't.
"Do I need to remind you that Mr Brownlow doesn't want you near this operation?" He gave John his steeliest glare. "Why don't you try proving you're capable of acting like a civilised human-being occasionally? Then you might spend a bit more time in his good books."
"I don't really care which book I'm in."
"Well I do!"
John sighed audibly. He glanced through the papers again, then his eyes lit up and he gave his most wicked grin. "Hey, guv? There's only two rooms in this suite. Does that mean..."
"No, it does not! It means you're sleeping on the couch, and Claire and Kerry are having the single rooms. And if you start getting any ideas..."
"All right, all right! Only asking!"
"Don't worry, guv. We can always handcuff him to the toilet if he steps out of line," Claire contributed.
"How reassuring. Right, apart from John, is everyone happy?"
They shrugged noncommittally, and Deakin gave up.
X X X
John inserted the swipe card and pushed the suite door open.
"Jesus Christ. No wonder Brownlow was doing his nut about the budget."
"Nah, he got a discount and Carrie's company's paying for half. No expense spared when it comes to her." Claire appeared beside him. "And you could at least've offered to carry my stuff. Some boyfriend you are."
He grinned. "What you moaning about? I gave you a lift, didn't I? All the way to yours, and all the way to mine, and aaaall the way here." His eyes lit up, enjoying the chance to wind her up.
She moved closer as he slyly reached out and wrapped his arm round her waist. "I take it all back. I couldn't ask for anyone more obliging." She rolled her eyes heavenward and took hold of the front of his t-shirt. "C'mere."
"Thought you'd never ask." He didn't need telling twice, dropping his head and pressing his lips softly against hers in a long kiss. Their arms tightened round each other, and Claire reached up to run her hand across the back of his close-cut hair, a now-natural gesture of affection. John grinned as he felt the familiar tingle run down his spine, reluctantly releasing her as a passing chambermaid gave them a snooty look.
"We're gonna get kicked out in a minute." Claire couldn't help but grin.
"Better get some privacy, then." His own grin was even more wicked. Giving the door another shove, he threw their bags carelessly into the room, letting them crash down in the middle of the carpet.
"My bloody CD player's in there!"
"Shut up and come here." He grabbed hold of her hand again and pulled her inside, hurling himself onto the huge couch. His force made Claire lose her balance and she collapsed on top of him, helpless with laughter, just as Kerry walked in.
"Shall I come back in half an hour?"
John buried his face in a cushion to try and gain some control.
"Don't worry, Kerry. We're being totally professional." Claire managed to put on a straight face.
"Yeah, looks like it."
John was still killing himself as the DC escaped into one of the small adjoining rooms.
"You're beyond help!" Claire gave him a shove. "I knew you were gonna be a bad influence."
"Me? You started it..."
He didn't get chance to finish before she clapped a cushion over his head.
"I told the DI that Carrie won't even know we're a couple."
"She must be blind, then." Kerry reappeared in the doorway. "It's obvious to any idiot you're together."
"You didn't know for nearly two months," John shot back, emerging from under the cushion.
"That was different...!"
"How?"
"John, knock it off." Claire got to her feet with regained dignity. "This is gonna be hell if you two insist on fighting like cat and dog."
"It's gonna be hell anyway!"
"Keep your bloody voice down! Carrie's only in the next room!"
John shrugged casually, obviously not giving a toss.
"You think we should let her know we're here?" Kerry moved back into the room, more comfortable now the couple were apart.
"No," John immediately said.
"Better had," Claire decided at exactly the same time.
They both glared at each other as Kerry watched, more than aware of who would win. She grinned as John threw his hands up and dropped back against the couch. Only Claire could do that.
"Come on. You might get to watch the rugby if you hurry up." Claire started towards the door separating the two suites.
If there was one thing that would make John move, it was the promise of a couple of hour's peace to watch the sport his world revolved around. He was on his feet in a second, but made sure Claire and Kerry went first, entering Carrie's suite behind them with his hands buried deep in his jeans pockets.
Carrie was led full-length across the couch, a crystal glass of something in her hand. A man with floppy dark hair and an unbelievably loud shirt sat in one of the armchairs, legs neatly crossed and hands folded in his lap. John clocked him immediately, and wasn't impressed.
"We just wanted to let you know we've arrived, Carrie." Claire was forced to take the lead when it became obvious John and Kerry's attention was focused on the man.
"That's great, thank you." The actress gave the expected gracious smile. "Would you like a glass of something?"
"No, we're all right, thanks."
John became aware of Carrie's eyes on him. He deliberately avoided her gaze, still looking somewhat dubiously at her companion. "Who's the fashion guru?"
Carrie gave a delicate tinkle of a laugh that made John cringe. "Fashion guru? We live in hope. This is Anthony. I suppose you might call him a manservant. He keeps everything in order for me, don't you, Anthony?"
The young man raised his eyes to acknowledge her.
"I couldn't possibly cope without him." Carrie gave an exaggerated sweep of her hand. "He's just wonderful to have around; travels everywhere with me, spends hours at the theatres, helps me learn my lines, cooks, washes..."
"How nice for him," John interrupted, looking about as interested as a corpse.
Anthony eyed him expressionless, and tossed his head to flip a piece of hair out of his eyes. John noticed he had blond streaks.
"Okay, we'll give you a bit of space." He started back towards the door.
"You can stay and have a drink if you want, John." Carrie gave him the smile she seemed to have reserved especially for him.
"Nah, you're all right."
"Anyone would think you don't like my company."
John gave a grin as false as hers. "What makes you think that?"
X X X
That night, as the TV played Eastenders for no one's benefit but its own, CID's answer to Romeo and Juliet lay together in each other's arms, precariously trying to share Claire's bed.
"I thought Deakin was messin' when he said it was a single," John mumbled.
"You can go back to the couch if you want."
"You know you'd only be lonely without me." He grinned and moved closer to her, trapping her in his strong arms.
"Oi, I told you! We're gonna be totally professional about this, so don't go getting any ideas."
"Oh come on! Kerry's still down at the bar with that weirdo..."
"His name's Anthony."
"He's a weirdo," John emphasised with great conviction. "And as I was saying..."
"It doesn't matter what you were saying, because it isn't going to get you anywhere." She touched his nose with her finger, as she knew annoyed him. "You're not even sleeping in here, let alone getting up to anything else, so why don't you try thinking with your brain instead of another part of your anatomy."
He gave a mock scowl. "You don't normally complain."
"Shut up or I'll kick you out now."
"Oh don't, I'm just gettin' warm."
She grinned and nestled closer against him. "What's with you and Carrie?"
"Eh?"
"You don't exactly seem to have hit it off with her."
"So?"
"So, why haven't you?"
"Because I don't like her." He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, looking as if he didn't have a clue why she hadn't figured that one out for herself.
"And why don't you like her?"
"God, have I walked in on Mastermind or something? I don't like her because she an egomaniacal, false drama queen."
"Aren't you more bothered about the fact she's never taken her eyes off you since we arrived?"
He was quiet for a moment, before his face broke into a wicked grin. "It's scary, having someone old enough to be my mam checking me out." He rested his head against hers. "Rather have you any day."
"I should think so!"
His arms tightened around her. "So... does that mean I can stay in here tonight?"
X X X
"I really want to go home."
Kerry glanced across the breakfast table at Claire. "Has he stopped moaning for more than five minutes since we got here?"
"I think he once managed seven minutes, but then he remembered he'd missed the hi-lights of the Heineken Cup." Claire grinned wickedly and reached to pat John's hand. "You'll get over it one day."
He scowled and got up. "Not funny."
"Where you going now?"
"Heard there was a gym; thought I might check it out. I'll get less hassle there." He gave both women a very pointed look before he left the dining room.
Claire and Kerry exchanged glances and collapsed into helpless laughter. "You can only wind a man up like that."
Kerry grinned. "Let's face it, you can only wind John Boulton up like that."
"He'll be happier once he's had an hour in the gym. You know what he's like."
Kerry's eyes glinted. "Not like you do, sarge."
"Oh don't you start! God, we thought all the jokes would've died down after the first couple of weeks."
"Come on! You didn't seriously think we'd let something like that go, did you? I mean, John Boulton, tamed and in a stable relationship? We all thought we'd never see the day."
"You just don't see the other side to him."
"But I'm sure you do..." Kerry caught the hint of gossip and moved in.
"No chance; I'm not telling you anything."
There was a few seconds silence before Kerry carefully raised her eyes to meet Claire's. "Do you love him, sarge?"
"... I think that's between me and John..."
"Coz I was gonna say, even if you don't, can you keep this thing going?" She smiled, enjoying the wind-up. "For our sakes? John's never been so easy to be around than since you two got together. He's almost been nice."
Claire looked up, her own smile soft. "Believe me, Kerry, I don't want it to end anymore than you do."
X X X
John had made Kerry sit in the front as Anthony drove Carrie and her protectors to her West End theatre for the day's rehearsals. He'd also made Claire sit in the middle next to Carrie, and had squashed himself against the left-hand door to avoid being too close to either the actress or her slave. He hadn't missed Claire's amusement at his actions.
"You're gonna end up being more dramatic than Carrie," She whispered in his ear once they were weaving through the traffic. "What'd you think she's gonna do, jump on you in front of us all and tear your clothes off?"
"It's not funny," he hissed back. "Look at her, she's still doing it."
"Don't look and you won't know."
"I bloody will! I can feel her eyes on me."
"Then just put her off!"
John glanced at her. "Maybe I will." He leant forward over his knees. "Carrie, tell me about your stalker."
"Shouldn't you be telling me about him, John? You're the policeman."
"Yeah, but you're the drama queen. I bet can give me a nice song-and-dance about the whole thing and make it much more interesting with all those little hand-throws and fake smiles than I ever could." His polite smile never left his face, but the mockery in his voice was unmistakable. Kerry had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
Carrie's own smile wavered ever so slightly. "I don't know what you mean, John."
"I was just referring to your acting ability. I remember you demonstrated it brilliantly in my Superintendent's office yesterday."
"I can assure you..."
"Yes?" John leant forward even further. "Go on, Carrie. Assure me."
The smile had gone completely now. "Honestly, you really are a most impossible man."
John grinned. "I know. It's the company I keep."
"I do hope you're not like this all the time."
"Only 95%," John assured her. "Rest of the time I'm a perfect gentleman."
Carrie was starting to look flustered, unable to contend with John's natural wit. "I'm sure you are."
John was more than satisfied by her reaction, and decided he'd give her a break for a while. "Okay, now we've got that sorted out. About your friend the stalker..."
X X X
Carrie swept through the Lyric Theatre's stage door first, leaving the others to trail behind; Claire and Kerry looking round in wonder, John looking round in incredulity.
"Simon! So sorry we're late, darling! We haven't messed up your schedule, have we?" She dashed to a slim leather-jacketed man with a goatee and slicked-back hair. She waved a hand to the officers. "This is Simon, our magical director."
"Who're these people?" The magical director looked less than happy to see the additional three to Carrie's entourage.
"The police officers I was telling you about. This is John and Claire and Kerry..."
"Charmed," Simon muttered, interrupting her in mid-flow.
"Feeling's mutual," John shot back, his face expressionless but his eyes warning the slighter man not to mess him around.
Simon obviously got the message, hurriedly removing himself from John's path to the other side of the corridor. John was quickly discovering these theatre types were all the same - all mouth, no balls. He decided he might share that thought with Carrie and Anthony sometime.
"You've had a delivery." Simon disdainfully held out a wrapped package to the actress. "I can take three guesses as to what it is."
Carrie was quick to hand the package on to John. "You might be more interested in this than I am."
"Didn't know you cared," he shot back. He removed the wrapping and held up an incredibly skimpy silk bra for all to see. "Very nice. Bloke's got taste."
"John!" Claire elbowed him. "Give it here."
"I'll get you one exactly the same for our anniversary if you want," he whispered into her ear, grinning widely. He got another elbow in the ribs for his troubles.
"I can't imagine why he thinks I should be interested in anything like that." Carrie adopted a wounded tone. "I mean, honestly..."
"Don't worry, we'll take care of it," Kerry reassured her. "DS Boulton will give it his full attention."
"I certainly will..." John started, a wicked twinkle in his eyes.
"Carrie, you're needed in five minutes." Another man interrupted the proceedings, sticking his head out of a door for long enough to yell, and probably saving John from getting a thump in the mouth from Claire.
"Be right with you, Philip!" Carrie waved the other hand at him and turned to confide in John. "He's the costume designer. Very temperamental."
"How fascinating." John already looked bored out his brain. "Don't you and Anthony have to go and powder your noses or something?"
Anthony opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish on hearing that, trying his hardest to think of some retort. In the end he gave up and flounced off after the designer.
John grinned and stretched his arms behind his head. "Boulton –1. Anthony – 0."
X X X
"So, what have we got so far?" Claire asked, once they were settled in the back row of the theatre as Carrie did her thing on stage.
"Well, I've found out three things," John announced with a grin. "1, this play is crap. 2, men in theatre are the biggest bunch of wusses I've ever met. And 3, that present was..."
"If you want to keep all your teeth, I'd shut up," Claire cut in, giving him a warning look.
"All right, don't bite my head off!" He regained some degree of professionalism. "So far, we've established this stalker is like a ghost. He leaves presents for Carrie everywhere, but no one's even caught a glimpse of him. He knows her mobile number and her home number. He knows almost everything about her, even details of her childhood. He either must have a bit of money or be a very good shoplifter, coz the amount of lingerie he sends her is unbelievable and from the examples I've seen it's all expensive..." he grinned innocently and changed topic quickly as Claire glared at him. "He must also be very sick, because he's left her drawings showing exactly what he'd like to do to her, if you know what I mean."
"But he hasn't made any threats." Kerry leant forward to contribute. "So far he's been pretty sick, but he hasn't been violent. He hasn't indicated he wants to se any violence. He seems to be genuinely in love with Carrie, and wants her to love him back..."
"God, you sound like a psychologist," John interrupted.
Kerry gave him a glare before continuing. "I've read about cases like this. The stalker starts off nice as pie, almost a gentleman, then he builds up, gets nastier and nastier. When Carrie won't respond to his fantasies or desires, he'll get angry."
"I don't want to know how his brain works," John muttered. "I want to stick his stupid little arse in a cell and get out of this stupid scene, preferably within the next twenty-four hours before I go insane."
"Well we aren't gonna be able to if we don't know how his brain works!" Kerry was coming very close to smacking him one herself. "We need to work out his next move, so we can be ready. Otherwise we could be here for months!"
"I thought you were meant to be the sergeant, not Kerry." Claire elbowed him. "Come on, John, at least try and feign some interest."
"I am trying!"
"Well if this is your version of cooperating, god knows what you're gonna be like when you're resisting."
John scowled and got up.
"John! Where you goin?"
"They have ice cream in theatres, don't they? I'm gonna find some."
An hour later, up on stage, Carrie had finished her big scene and took a sweeping bow to announce the fact. Claire and Kerry clapped politely on cue. John had fallen asleep with his mouth open and his ice cream melting.
COMEDY OF COUPLING
The stage lights shone down onto her bright, smiling face, setting the beautiful green eyes alight as she faced her final-night audience. She drank in their wild applause, raising her hand high into the air, and took her last bow. She deserved this, and she knew it.
Her co-stars joined her before the curtain fell; the director, producer and writer pushily barging their way into the line with all the arrogance men like them had. They all looked out over the sea of faces, each drawing their own individual glory. She barely knew the others were there. That applause was for her, the cheers, whistles and shouts belonged to no one else but her. Another month and it would be the same all over again, with a new director, new co-stars, new stage and a new audience. But the acknowledgement would still be hers - hers and hers alone.
The curtain finally fell, and gradually the applause died. One by one, the others left the stage to start the alcohol flowing. She was left alone, taking her last breath of the atmosphere she had created. Once it had meant so much to her, had brought tears to her eyes, made her heart swell until it was near to bursting. Her smiles and gestures had been genuine, her elation real. Now, however, they were just part of the show. Nothing else. She'd done this too many times for it to mean anything of huge importance. Just another final night. Just another audience, another play, another pay cheque.
As the fixed smile died from her face, she moved off the stage and into the wings. She saw something out the corner of her eye, a fleeting shadow, the slightest of movements. She stopped and looked around her, but saw nothing. Thinking little else of it, she continued down the stairs towards her dressing room. A pair of eyes watched her go, and glinted knowingly
X X X
"Jesus Christ, this is a load of crap!" The familiar Scouse tones broke the silence in the room.
Five pairs of eyes moved to settle on the speaker. John Boulton shrugged defensively and looked back at his colleagues with his usual stubbornness.
"Just what I was gonna say," Don agreed quickly, on the side of blokes to the end.
"An' me," contributed Mickey with his usual helpfulness.
"Oh, shut up." Kerry deliberately leant forward and turned up the volume on the TV version of Gone With The Wind. "No one's forcing you to watch it."
"Excuse me! Claire's threatened to hammer me with the remote if I make so much as a comment!" John started up with some heat.
He was silenced as his girlfriend promptly followed up on her threat and smartly whacked him on the back of the head with the plastic control.
"Oi! That telly was brand new last week!" Duncan was beginning to regret inviting his colleagues round for the evening whilst Shona was away. "Gimme that remote!"
He scrambled up from his armchair as John grabbed hold of Claire to try and wrestle the remote away from her. He snatched it away before either could win, saving John from another clout.
"God, you're no fun." John, with several cans of lager and some strange Scottish brandy inside him, was in a particularly relaxed mood.
"Least I'm not acting like a sixteen-year-old!" Duncan snorted impressively.
He was disheartened to find no one was taking the slightest bit of notice of him. Mickey had gone off in search of more alcohol, and Duncan could only pray the DC wouldn't find the ten-year single malt Shona had been saving. Don's attention had returned to his curry and the orange liquid was coming dangerously close to dripping off his naan bread onto the white shag-pile carpet. Kerry was concentrating on the film once again, finding Rhett Butler a hell of a lot more interesting than her real-life company. And John and Claire had stretched out across the couch again, entwined in each other's arms, and were whispering between themselves with their faces centimetres apart. He might as well just not be there; none of that lot would notice if he wasn't.
He gallantly averted his gaze as the couple's lips met in a slow, lingering kiss. It really had been a lot easier when they'd kept their relationship a secret, and a hell of a lot less hassle. He didn't know what to do now, when they would stand in the middle of the office with their arms wrapped round each other, kiss anywhere including at the coffee machine in front of uniform, and walk around as if they were joined at the hip.
"I'm bored," John announced once he'd regained the proper use of his mouth, and grinned innocently as Claire's elbow connected with his ribs. "...I mean..."
"You mean you're being an annoying arsehole and you're going to shut up right now."
"Is it nearly finished?" Mickey reappeared with another glassful of something.
"No!" Kerry's look could have killed. "It only started half an hour ago!"
"Oh God!" All four men moaned in unison.
Five minutes later the front door slammed as the men escaped to the pub, and finally gave the women peace for the first time all night. Claire found a bottle of nice-looking single malt hidden behind a stack of plates in the kitchen, and they set about consuming it before the lads returned, to the background of "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn."
X X X
Six members of CID were feeling particularly delicate the next morning. Their colleagues watched with great amusement as they fought over the coffee and searched desks for elusive paracetamol, rarely being successful. It had turned out that the lads were less worse-for-wear after nearly three hours down the pub than Claire and Kerry were after half an hour with the Scotch. All except Mickey had swore never to drink again, as was a regular occurrence every Monday morning.
"Duncan's never gonna let us in the front door again." John leant over Claire's chair to speak into her ear, and swipe her coffee.
"Get off! Is he still going on about the whiskey?"
"Apparently its from the family distillery. He's been saving it for ten years."
"Shouldn't have left it lying around, then."
"Claire!" Deakin's shout through his open door quietened the office. "I need a word, when you've got a free minute." He looked pointedly at John.
John glared back but retreated to his own desk as Claire reluctantly got up and moved to Deakin's office.
"Heavy night?" The DI's eyes were amused.
Claire's weren't. "Something like that, guv."
"I suppose I don't really want to know. Have a seat."
Claire shut the door and moved to lean against the window, hers and John's usual position. She tried to ignore the pounding hammers in her skull and concentrate on what Deakin was saying. Bloody Duncan and his bloody Scotch.
"Claire, are you listening to a word I'm saying?"
"Yeah, guv... Something about..."
Deakin glared at her. "I said; have you ever heard of an actress called Carrie McDonnell?"
"Name rings a bell. Don't know anything about her though, not a big star or anything."
"No, she isn't. Was quite well known in the sixties in the theatre, but she's never had a major shot. She took a break a few years ago, but she's back doing plays again now. She's just arrived in the West End to do some Arthur Miller thing or another..."
"Don't tell me, you want me to get you tickets." Claire interrupted.
"No, Claire, I don't."
"Then why're you telling me about this woman?" She wasn't in the mood for Cryptic Crossword.
Deakin wasn't put off. "Apparently she's got a stalker. Been sending her dodgy letters, trying it on over the phone, even sent her his underwear at one point. He leaves little presents for her at the theatre – chocolates, flowers, lingerie, the lot, but no one's got a bloody clue who he is. We don't know how far he's prepared to go. In fact, the only thing we do know is he's infatuated with this actress."
"How nice for her. Why should I be bothered?"
"Because you're gonna keep her safe from him."
Claire's eyes sparked instantly, her jaw tightening. "You what?! Since when do we do the West End's dirty work?! That's WEC's patch; it's their problem!"
"No, Claire, it's our problem."
"How'd you work that out?!"
"Ms McDonnell has specifically requested officers from Sun Hill to take on the case. She won't have anyone else near her or her play. So unless we want to risk a murder we could prevented, we've got to take this one."
"But... I mean... why...?"
"She grew up in Sun Hill. When she was performing as a kid, she always had a Sun Hill copper playing bodyguard for the evening. Seems like she's still got trust in our ability."
"Can't we persuade her to have trust in WEC's ability?"
"No, Claire, we can't. I've picked you specially for the job; we need a bit of diplomacy on this one." Deakin seemed pleased with himself, and with Claire's reaction. "I think you're one of my most tactful officers and hopefully you'll be able to deal with Ms. McDonnell."
"Oh, I'm sure I'll have no bloody problems," Claire muttered, far from amused. "Can I have John with me?"
"No, you cannot! You'd both be dismissed the second he opened his mouth! I want tact and diplomacy, not aggression and bloody hell-raising!"
"Guv, that's not on!"
"When it comes to John Boulton, it's perfectly on!"
Claire gave him a look of pure ice. "Who am I being partnered with then?"
"Kerry."
"Kerry?!"
"You got a problem with her now?"
"No, guv. I'm just thinking that it might not be the best idea to put two women against someone who could turn out to be a six foot five, 20 stone boxer!"
"Don't you start dramatising! I've had that all morning from some bloody agent!"
"Guv, I'm sorry, but I'm not happy."
"Well, I'm sorry, but there's no one else. Duncan and Geoff are in court all week. Mickey's not moving from the office until he's finished that mountain of paperwork sitting on his desk. Danny's on holiday, Don's doing that obbo on the Cockroft for the rufees dealer and I'm not going within five miles of any egomaniacal actress. So that leaves you and Kerry."
"And John."
"No! Not and John!"
"Just give him a chance, guv. If he screws up, you can tell him to sod off and leave me and Kerry to deal with it. I just think it'll be safer for everyone, including this actress, if we've got a bit of brawn to go with the brains."
"And I suppose you and Kerry are the brains, of course."
"Of course."
Deakin allowed a smile. "I suppose it couldn't hurt to have a bit of back- up in case anything turns nasty."
"Exactly."
"But I'm not happy."
"Didn't expect you to be."
"And I don't want you two to be too busy staring into each other's eyes to notice a bloke standing in the wings with a knife."
"Guv, we'll be totally professional. This actress won't even know we're together."
Deakin looked heavenwards. "Get John in here."
John entered the office wondering what the hell was going on. Less than a minute later, the entire office heard his reaction.
"You've gotta be bloody joking!!!!"
X X X
"I can't believe you did this to me!" John hissed.
"I thought I was doing you a favour!" Claire shot back.
"Well you weren't! What do I want to go near some over-polished stuck-up cow for?!"
"Because..."
"When you two have quite finished?" Deakin gave them both a glare as the four officers, now including Kerry, sat side-by-side outside Brownlow's office, waiting to be summoned to meet their celebrity 'victim'. "If you're going to kill each other, wait until you're well away from me. I don't intend to get caught up in the bloodshed."
John ignored the DI completely. "If you think I'm gonna be nice to her, put up with any baby tempers, or any other crap she's got in her stupid little brain, you've all got another think coming."
"Claire..." Deakin started up.
"He'll be the perfect gentleman, guv. Don't worry."
Somehow Deakin didn't manage to look convinced. Kerry grinned to herself and exchanged knowing looks with Claire. John just stared straight ahead and wondered why God created women. Then he thought back to the night before, and remembered.
"Mr Deakin? Would you and the officers like to go in?" Brownlow's secretary glanced over at them, making sure she looked down her nose at John, as was customary.
Deakin got to his feet, giving the couple his most pointed look. "Just remember; smile and agree with everything. And don't mention egos."
Claire's elbow found her boyfriend's ribs just to reinforce the point. "If you step one foot out of line, I'll hit you with more than a TV remote."
John nearly choked trying not to laugh as he followed the others into the firing line, giving the door a shove to shut it behind him. The bang echoed round the quiet office, making Brownlow glare in his direction. John didn't even grace him with a glance, his gaze being drawn to the woman standing in front of the Superintendent's desk.
Carrie McDonnell was older than he'd imagined, well over fifty, but preserved like some delicate china doll. She instantly struck him as being just the sort to look down her nose at everyone, think she owned the world. She was nearly as tall as him, but almost fragilely slim, without a inch of fat on her, and looked as if she had spent a great deal of money fighting the lines of age. He knew almost immediately that she was not going to be easy to handle. She was the stereotypical spoilt, egotistical actress used to getting her own way at the click of a finger. Things would undoubtedly get interesting if she tried anything on with him.
Brownlow cleared his throat awkwardly, more than aware that John, and indeed Deakin, were checking his guest out not merely from a professional point of view.
"Ms McDonnell, these are the officers that have been assigned to your case." He quickly recovered his composure and got to his feet with the usual pathetic politeness he reserved for highly important people. "My detective inspector, Chris Deakin."
John studied his shoes with great interest as his colleagues were introduced to the actress, never once looking up.
"And Detective Sergeant John Boulton."
Expressionless, John raised his head and reached out to shake the hand that was gracefully extended to him. The surprise registered in the actress's face for a split second as he applied his usual pressure for a naturally firm handshake, but she was back to smiling brightly within a second. She was so false that John wondered if she was actually real underneath.
"A pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Boulton."
"Yeah," he muttered, uncomfortably shifting as he felt her eyes sweep over him. Jesus Christ, this woman was nearly old enough to be his mother, and she was checking him out. Thank God he was going to have Claire with him.
He averted his gaze again, but her eyes didn't move from him. He could feel her taking in every detail, photographing him with her eyes. He felt an incredible urge to tell her to take a picture; it'd last longer, but managed to resist the temptation.
"Have you ever seen any of my plays?" The fake smile hadn't faltered.
"Didn't even know you existed until the DI told me," John replied with his own fake cheerfulness. He was delighted to see the smile fade almost immediately.
"Yes, thank you, John." Brownlow jumped in with a look of something halfway between horror and complete cynicism. He'd known this would happen. Put John Boulton in a situation requiring the least bit of discretion, and the result would be chaos. "Ms. McDonnell, are you sure you wouldn't rather let West End Central deal with this? I'm sure they're much better equipped than us..." He made one last attempt to save the station's reputation before John Boulton trod all over it his size tens.
"I don't know Central. I know Sun Hill, and I have the best faith in its officers, if they're anywhere near as good as the ones I used to know. Which I'm sure they are." She replaced the smile with one more dazzling, aimed directly at John.
"Well, you certainly won't be bored by them, Ms McDonnell," Deakin contributed. "Let's put it that way."
X X X
John flicked through the sheaf of papers Deakin had presented them with at the briefing.
"I suppose you've got a problem, John." The DI noticed his look.
"Yeah, I have, actually..."
"What a surprise."
John continued without missing a beat. "Why'd we have to stay at the hotel? We've gotta put up with her all day, and then we've gotta spend the night five yards away from her as well?"
"For God's sake, John! You're getting free accommodation at the London Dock! What more d'you want?"
"To go home and get away from her at the end of the day."
"Well too bad. Anyway, its not like you're gonna be in the same room as her. Her suite's next door to yours."
"Oh fancy that," John drawled in his best Scouse scally tones. "So we'll get to be a whole ten metres apart."
"Stop moaning."
John scowled. "Why can't she have a flat like everyone else?"
"Because she's based in Bath!"
"Bloody stupid place for an actress to be based. And why doesn't she just buy a flat?"
"John, shut up."
"But..."
"But nothing. You're not going to be with her twenty-four seven. You'll get chance to go home."
"And we only have to play bodyguard until we sort this stalker problem out, right?"
Deakin sighed. "Yes, John."
"Then this is gonna be the fastest clear-up in the history of Sun Hill. I'll say two days tops."
Claire and Kerry grinned. Deakin didn't.
"Do I need to remind you that Mr Brownlow doesn't want you near this operation?" He gave John his steeliest glare. "Why don't you try proving you're capable of acting like a civilised human-being occasionally? Then you might spend a bit more time in his good books."
"I don't really care which book I'm in."
"Well I do!"
John sighed audibly. He glanced through the papers again, then his eyes lit up and he gave his most wicked grin. "Hey, guv? There's only two rooms in this suite. Does that mean..."
"No, it does not! It means you're sleeping on the couch, and Claire and Kerry are having the single rooms. And if you start getting any ideas..."
"All right, all right! Only asking!"
"Don't worry, guv. We can always handcuff him to the toilet if he steps out of line," Claire contributed.
"How reassuring. Right, apart from John, is everyone happy?"
They shrugged noncommittally, and Deakin gave up.
X X X
John inserted the swipe card and pushed the suite door open.
"Jesus Christ. No wonder Brownlow was doing his nut about the budget."
"Nah, he got a discount and Carrie's company's paying for half. No expense spared when it comes to her." Claire appeared beside him. "And you could at least've offered to carry my stuff. Some boyfriend you are."
He grinned. "What you moaning about? I gave you a lift, didn't I? All the way to yours, and all the way to mine, and aaaall the way here." His eyes lit up, enjoying the chance to wind her up.
She moved closer as he slyly reached out and wrapped his arm round her waist. "I take it all back. I couldn't ask for anyone more obliging." She rolled her eyes heavenward and took hold of the front of his t-shirt. "C'mere."
"Thought you'd never ask." He didn't need telling twice, dropping his head and pressing his lips softly against hers in a long kiss. Their arms tightened round each other, and Claire reached up to run her hand across the back of his close-cut hair, a now-natural gesture of affection. John grinned as he felt the familiar tingle run down his spine, reluctantly releasing her as a passing chambermaid gave them a snooty look.
"We're gonna get kicked out in a minute." Claire couldn't help but grin.
"Better get some privacy, then." His own grin was even more wicked. Giving the door another shove, he threw their bags carelessly into the room, letting them crash down in the middle of the carpet.
"My bloody CD player's in there!"
"Shut up and come here." He grabbed hold of her hand again and pulled her inside, hurling himself onto the huge couch. His force made Claire lose her balance and she collapsed on top of him, helpless with laughter, just as Kerry walked in.
"Shall I come back in half an hour?"
John buried his face in a cushion to try and gain some control.
"Don't worry, Kerry. We're being totally professional." Claire managed to put on a straight face.
"Yeah, looks like it."
John was still killing himself as the DC escaped into one of the small adjoining rooms.
"You're beyond help!" Claire gave him a shove. "I knew you were gonna be a bad influence."
"Me? You started it..."
He didn't get chance to finish before she clapped a cushion over his head.
"I told the DI that Carrie won't even know we're a couple."
"She must be blind, then." Kerry reappeared in the doorway. "It's obvious to any idiot you're together."
"You didn't know for nearly two months," John shot back, emerging from under the cushion.
"That was different...!"
"How?"
"John, knock it off." Claire got to her feet with regained dignity. "This is gonna be hell if you two insist on fighting like cat and dog."
"It's gonna be hell anyway!"
"Keep your bloody voice down! Carrie's only in the next room!"
John shrugged casually, obviously not giving a toss.
"You think we should let her know we're here?" Kerry moved back into the room, more comfortable now the couple were apart.
"No," John immediately said.
"Better had," Claire decided at exactly the same time.
They both glared at each other as Kerry watched, more than aware of who would win. She grinned as John threw his hands up and dropped back against the couch. Only Claire could do that.
"Come on. You might get to watch the rugby if you hurry up." Claire started towards the door separating the two suites.
If there was one thing that would make John move, it was the promise of a couple of hour's peace to watch the sport his world revolved around. He was on his feet in a second, but made sure Claire and Kerry went first, entering Carrie's suite behind them with his hands buried deep in his jeans pockets.
Carrie was led full-length across the couch, a crystal glass of something in her hand. A man with floppy dark hair and an unbelievably loud shirt sat in one of the armchairs, legs neatly crossed and hands folded in his lap. John clocked him immediately, and wasn't impressed.
"We just wanted to let you know we've arrived, Carrie." Claire was forced to take the lead when it became obvious John and Kerry's attention was focused on the man.
"That's great, thank you." The actress gave the expected gracious smile. "Would you like a glass of something?"
"No, we're all right, thanks."
John became aware of Carrie's eyes on him. He deliberately avoided her gaze, still looking somewhat dubiously at her companion. "Who's the fashion guru?"
Carrie gave a delicate tinkle of a laugh that made John cringe. "Fashion guru? We live in hope. This is Anthony. I suppose you might call him a manservant. He keeps everything in order for me, don't you, Anthony?"
The young man raised his eyes to acknowledge her.
"I couldn't possibly cope without him." Carrie gave an exaggerated sweep of her hand. "He's just wonderful to have around; travels everywhere with me, spends hours at the theatres, helps me learn my lines, cooks, washes..."
"How nice for him," John interrupted, looking about as interested as a corpse.
Anthony eyed him expressionless, and tossed his head to flip a piece of hair out of his eyes. John noticed he had blond streaks.
"Okay, we'll give you a bit of space." He started back towards the door.
"You can stay and have a drink if you want, John." Carrie gave him the smile she seemed to have reserved especially for him.
"Nah, you're all right."
"Anyone would think you don't like my company."
John gave a grin as false as hers. "What makes you think that?"
X X X
That night, as the TV played Eastenders for no one's benefit but its own, CID's answer to Romeo and Juliet lay together in each other's arms, precariously trying to share Claire's bed.
"I thought Deakin was messin' when he said it was a single," John mumbled.
"You can go back to the couch if you want."
"You know you'd only be lonely without me." He grinned and moved closer to her, trapping her in his strong arms.
"Oi, I told you! We're gonna be totally professional about this, so don't go getting any ideas."
"Oh come on! Kerry's still down at the bar with that weirdo..."
"His name's Anthony."
"He's a weirdo," John emphasised with great conviction. "And as I was saying..."
"It doesn't matter what you were saying, because it isn't going to get you anywhere." She touched his nose with her finger, as she knew annoyed him. "You're not even sleeping in here, let alone getting up to anything else, so why don't you try thinking with your brain instead of another part of your anatomy."
He gave a mock scowl. "You don't normally complain."
"Shut up or I'll kick you out now."
"Oh don't, I'm just gettin' warm."
She grinned and nestled closer against him. "What's with you and Carrie?"
"Eh?"
"You don't exactly seem to have hit it off with her."
"So?"
"So, why haven't you?"
"Because I don't like her." He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, looking as if he didn't have a clue why she hadn't figured that one out for herself.
"And why don't you like her?"
"God, have I walked in on Mastermind or something? I don't like her because she an egomaniacal, false drama queen."
"Aren't you more bothered about the fact she's never taken her eyes off you since we arrived?"
He was quiet for a moment, before his face broke into a wicked grin. "It's scary, having someone old enough to be my mam checking me out." He rested his head against hers. "Rather have you any day."
"I should think so!"
His arms tightened around her. "So... does that mean I can stay in here tonight?"
X X X
"I really want to go home."
Kerry glanced across the breakfast table at Claire. "Has he stopped moaning for more than five minutes since we got here?"
"I think he once managed seven minutes, but then he remembered he'd missed the hi-lights of the Heineken Cup." Claire grinned wickedly and reached to pat John's hand. "You'll get over it one day."
He scowled and got up. "Not funny."
"Where you going now?"
"Heard there was a gym; thought I might check it out. I'll get less hassle there." He gave both women a very pointed look before he left the dining room.
Claire and Kerry exchanged glances and collapsed into helpless laughter. "You can only wind a man up like that."
Kerry grinned. "Let's face it, you can only wind John Boulton up like that."
"He'll be happier once he's had an hour in the gym. You know what he's like."
Kerry's eyes glinted. "Not like you do, sarge."
"Oh don't you start! God, we thought all the jokes would've died down after the first couple of weeks."
"Come on! You didn't seriously think we'd let something like that go, did you? I mean, John Boulton, tamed and in a stable relationship? We all thought we'd never see the day."
"You just don't see the other side to him."
"But I'm sure you do..." Kerry caught the hint of gossip and moved in.
"No chance; I'm not telling you anything."
There was a few seconds silence before Kerry carefully raised her eyes to meet Claire's. "Do you love him, sarge?"
"... I think that's between me and John..."
"Coz I was gonna say, even if you don't, can you keep this thing going?" She smiled, enjoying the wind-up. "For our sakes? John's never been so easy to be around than since you two got together. He's almost been nice."
Claire looked up, her own smile soft. "Believe me, Kerry, I don't want it to end anymore than you do."
X X X
John had made Kerry sit in the front as Anthony drove Carrie and her protectors to her West End theatre for the day's rehearsals. He'd also made Claire sit in the middle next to Carrie, and had squashed himself against the left-hand door to avoid being too close to either the actress or her slave. He hadn't missed Claire's amusement at his actions.
"You're gonna end up being more dramatic than Carrie," She whispered in his ear once they were weaving through the traffic. "What'd you think she's gonna do, jump on you in front of us all and tear your clothes off?"
"It's not funny," he hissed back. "Look at her, she's still doing it."
"Don't look and you won't know."
"I bloody will! I can feel her eyes on me."
"Then just put her off!"
John glanced at her. "Maybe I will." He leant forward over his knees. "Carrie, tell me about your stalker."
"Shouldn't you be telling me about him, John? You're the policeman."
"Yeah, but you're the drama queen. I bet can give me a nice song-and-dance about the whole thing and make it much more interesting with all those little hand-throws and fake smiles than I ever could." His polite smile never left his face, but the mockery in his voice was unmistakable. Kerry had to bite her lip to keep from laughing.
Carrie's own smile wavered ever so slightly. "I don't know what you mean, John."
"I was just referring to your acting ability. I remember you demonstrated it brilliantly in my Superintendent's office yesterday."
"I can assure you..."
"Yes?" John leant forward even further. "Go on, Carrie. Assure me."
The smile had gone completely now. "Honestly, you really are a most impossible man."
John grinned. "I know. It's the company I keep."
"I do hope you're not like this all the time."
"Only 95%," John assured her. "Rest of the time I'm a perfect gentleman."
Carrie was starting to look flustered, unable to contend with John's natural wit. "I'm sure you are."
John was more than satisfied by her reaction, and decided he'd give her a break for a while. "Okay, now we've got that sorted out. About your friend the stalker..."
X X X
Carrie swept through the Lyric Theatre's stage door first, leaving the others to trail behind; Claire and Kerry looking round in wonder, John looking round in incredulity.
"Simon! So sorry we're late, darling! We haven't messed up your schedule, have we?" She dashed to a slim leather-jacketed man with a goatee and slicked-back hair. She waved a hand to the officers. "This is Simon, our magical director."
"Who're these people?" The magical director looked less than happy to see the additional three to Carrie's entourage.
"The police officers I was telling you about. This is John and Claire and Kerry..."
"Charmed," Simon muttered, interrupting her in mid-flow.
"Feeling's mutual," John shot back, his face expressionless but his eyes warning the slighter man not to mess him around.
Simon obviously got the message, hurriedly removing himself from John's path to the other side of the corridor. John was quickly discovering these theatre types were all the same - all mouth, no balls. He decided he might share that thought with Carrie and Anthony sometime.
"You've had a delivery." Simon disdainfully held out a wrapped package to the actress. "I can take three guesses as to what it is."
Carrie was quick to hand the package on to John. "You might be more interested in this than I am."
"Didn't know you cared," he shot back. He removed the wrapping and held up an incredibly skimpy silk bra for all to see. "Very nice. Bloke's got taste."
"John!" Claire elbowed him. "Give it here."
"I'll get you one exactly the same for our anniversary if you want," he whispered into her ear, grinning widely. He got another elbow in the ribs for his troubles.
"I can't imagine why he thinks I should be interested in anything like that." Carrie adopted a wounded tone. "I mean, honestly..."
"Don't worry, we'll take care of it," Kerry reassured her. "DS Boulton will give it his full attention."
"I certainly will..." John started, a wicked twinkle in his eyes.
"Carrie, you're needed in five minutes." Another man interrupted the proceedings, sticking his head out of a door for long enough to yell, and probably saving John from getting a thump in the mouth from Claire.
"Be right with you, Philip!" Carrie waved the other hand at him and turned to confide in John. "He's the costume designer. Very temperamental."
"How fascinating." John already looked bored out his brain. "Don't you and Anthony have to go and powder your noses or something?"
Anthony opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish on hearing that, trying his hardest to think of some retort. In the end he gave up and flounced off after the designer.
John grinned and stretched his arms behind his head. "Boulton –1. Anthony – 0."
X X X
"So, what have we got so far?" Claire asked, once they were settled in the back row of the theatre as Carrie did her thing on stage.
"Well, I've found out three things," John announced with a grin. "1, this play is crap. 2, men in theatre are the biggest bunch of wusses I've ever met. And 3, that present was..."
"If you want to keep all your teeth, I'd shut up," Claire cut in, giving him a warning look.
"All right, don't bite my head off!" He regained some degree of professionalism. "So far, we've established this stalker is like a ghost. He leaves presents for Carrie everywhere, but no one's even caught a glimpse of him. He knows her mobile number and her home number. He knows almost everything about her, even details of her childhood. He either must have a bit of money or be a very good shoplifter, coz the amount of lingerie he sends her is unbelievable and from the examples I've seen it's all expensive..." he grinned innocently and changed topic quickly as Claire glared at him. "He must also be very sick, because he's left her drawings showing exactly what he'd like to do to her, if you know what I mean."
"But he hasn't made any threats." Kerry leant forward to contribute. "So far he's been pretty sick, but he hasn't been violent. He hasn't indicated he wants to se any violence. He seems to be genuinely in love with Carrie, and wants her to love him back..."
"God, you sound like a psychologist," John interrupted.
Kerry gave him a glare before continuing. "I've read about cases like this. The stalker starts off nice as pie, almost a gentleman, then he builds up, gets nastier and nastier. When Carrie won't respond to his fantasies or desires, he'll get angry."
"I don't want to know how his brain works," John muttered. "I want to stick his stupid little arse in a cell and get out of this stupid scene, preferably within the next twenty-four hours before I go insane."
"Well we aren't gonna be able to if we don't know how his brain works!" Kerry was coming very close to smacking him one herself. "We need to work out his next move, so we can be ready. Otherwise we could be here for months!"
"I thought you were meant to be the sergeant, not Kerry." Claire elbowed him. "Come on, John, at least try and feign some interest."
"I am trying!"
"Well if this is your version of cooperating, god knows what you're gonna be like when you're resisting."
John scowled and got up.
"John! Where you goin?"
"They have ice cream in theatres, don't they? I'm gonna find some."
An hour later, up on stage, Carrie had finished her big scene and took a sweeping bow to announce the fact. Claire and Kerry clapped politely on cue. John had fallen asleep with his mouth open and his ice cream melting.