I will never let PC Andrews drive me anywhere again. He has a nerve-wracking tendency to tailgate and an inability to see that the urgency of the situation required use of the overhead light. That drive took at least ten minutes longer than it should have, and Lord knows what could have happened in that space of time.
As it was, everything was under control when I finally arrived. Uniform had taken the poor, mad girl away, Angus was tending to the dead boy, and a couple of big PCs had helped Sergeant Hathaway and Doctor Hobson out of that grave.
I don't often feel sorry for other women, but it must have been terrifying, what Hobson went through, to make her cry like that. Normally, she resembles a sort of pugnacious, undersized sand crab, all hard shell and snapping claws. But now she seems to be completely without structure, amorphous and collapsing in on herself. She stands there, wrapped in a heat blanket, her arms twisted around herself. I'm certain she's shivering. And there stands DI Lewis next to her, not saying anything. Not one word of reassurance, no strong arm around her shoulders, no support whatsoever. I honestly do not understand that man most of the time.
I make my way over to Hathaway as soon as he finishes talking to one of the PCs and ask him outright:
"Why doesn't he kiss her, for Heaven's sake?"
He actually looks startled at the suggestion. As if he hadn't been thinking the same thing himself. He puts on that slightly superior air he has when he knows things other people don't and tells me that's not the kind of relationship they have.
Obviously. If Lewis could just get over his inertia, that would change everything, I believe. But, despite my usual skill at reading people, I can't tell if he would even like that kind of relationship with our pathologist.
It's certainly the kind they should have, in my view. It would be good for both of them. And I tell Hathaway exactly that. James just gives me one of his lovely smiles.
I never should have let Robbie stay on the case. I suppose I did because his instincts, which admittedly can be marvelously accurate, and my instincts (not insubstantial in their own right) reached the same conclusion: whatever it was, Laura Hobson's involvement in the murders was blameless. Still, it made things awkward whenever Hathaway asked Lewis questions about her.
Robbie gets so protective of anything involving Doctor Hobson, there was no way he could be objective. At least Hathaway was well aware of the conflict and was able to maintain impartiality. I'm certain they had at least one argument about it. Lewis is constitutionally incapable of thinking ill of Laura. When he was forced to face the fact that it appeared she had been lying, his whole body revealed that the idea tore him up.
The fact that he turned out to be right I suppose is a good thing. He has a rather annoying tendency to view through rose-colored glasses anything related to those "good old days" when he was Morse's man, and that includes Hobson. Had she turned out to be tainted, I can't say what the effect would have been. It makes me a bit sad to see him when he's thinking about the past. One of his shortcomings is the fact that he's never quite able to let it go completely.
He's always been a bit unstable, in my opinion. I know the long-time veterans on the force tell me he's forever been the model of slow-but-steady, but I can't see that from where I'm standing. I mean, a two-year drinking binge that forced my predecessor to bundle him off to the Caribbean? It takes a lot of departmental embarrassment to ship a man that far away. And his investigative technique is less methodical than maniacal most of the time. Weird flights of fancy when the answer seems to be staring him in the face.
And now, even though he thinks he does everything by the book, in truth he's often visibly uncomfortable accepting my command, chafing at orders and procedures. Right from the start he wormed his way to doing what he wanted, rather than what I ordered, something he continues to do whenever he and I are at cross-purposes. And as if disregarding my orders wasn't enough, he twisted Hathaway into the same mold.
In retrospect, it was a mistake to put those two together. Hathaway, my genius, straight-arrow protégé, his brilliant career derailed by a bitter and disillusioned senior officer with whom he never would have been paired, but for a couple twists of fate. They took to each other like two misfits in a schoolyard, sticking up for one another and jointly fending off the bullies. I've learned over the years that it is fruitless to try to drive a wedge between them, it only draws them more tightly together. My best ploy when one of them is out of line is to implicitly appeal to the other partner's sense of duty, then to wait for him to try to bring the errant one back into the fold. Time-consuming, but there's no way to fight them when they are united as a defensive team.
And united as crime-solvers, too, let us not forget. It is incredibly annoying to think a given case is closed by the obvious result, but then find one of them (almost invariably the senior partner, come to that) has some nagging doubt that prevents them from signing off on the case. And then they have the balls to prove their doubts were spot on! Not that either of them is openly smug about it, although James often bears that irritatingly disdainful demeanor. And it would not surprise me to find a scorecard tucked away in a drawer in their office: Boys – 16; Girls – 0.
I suppose their success is due in part to the absence of outside distractions. No home life to speak of, no hobbies. Sometimes I think Robbie must like it that way. Otherwise, why not be more interested in finding a companion? Like Laura Hobson, Lewis, as I watch him standing there, hands in pockets, while she looks for all the world like someone who seriously needs a hug. At least he seems to be talking to her now, but it's probably related to the inquiry. I half expect him to hand her his card, asking her to call if she thinks of anything to add.
It's almost funny, his apparent lack of awareness about how she feels, given his innate genius in the interview room. That he can be so cunning, and at the same time give the appearance of little-boy naïveté, is his finest skill, I believe. Every chance I get I watch him when he conducts interviews. I appreciate the fact that there are still things for me to learn, and his mastery of the technique is something I hold in awe.
Of course, there are several detective teams under my direction, but Team Lewis-Hathaway is without question my most successful, most brilliant, and most aggravating pair. It may have been a mistake to put them together but it was a mistake with a happy outcome: they solve more serious crime than the rest of the lot put together. And because of their brilliance, I let them get away with almost everything at this point.
But this I won't tolerate, Inspector. Doctor Hobson is miserable—frightened, confused, crying, and covered in dirt. James is looking at Robbie like he can't quite believe the man's behavior. And Robbie, hands STILL in pockets, is looking at everything but Laura Hobson. This is completely out-of-balance, utterly neglectful of what should be done. I approach Robbie from the far side, so Laura can't quite hear and can't object. And I order him to keep watch over her for the rest of the night. To make sure she's safe. To help her feel that the danger has passed. To be there if she has nightmares. To ensure she gets cleaned up and takes care of herself. After all, her visiting friend is still in hospital and can't do it, so someone has to. This is one order he better obey.
"Without backup?" he wants to know. I assure him backup isn't necessary; the killers are no longer a threat. Hathaway looks at me with both knowledge and gratitude; he sees what I'm about and, smiling, he approves. Very nice, those rare, Hathaway smiles.
"Good result, James?" I ask him.
He looks at the back of Lewis and Hobson as they walk toward Lewis's car.
"We'll see, Ma'am," he tells me. I give his arm a squeeze. I'm more certain. Good result.