Lewis arrived in the office at his usual time. His eyes were reddened but he was clean and had shaved. Hathaway wondered how he managed to scrub up so well. Does he do this every day?
"Morning, Sergeant." He even sounded cheery. Hathaway shuddered inwardly at the task he had set himself to do.
He waited until Lewis had gotten tea and settled in to work at his computer. At last he took a deep breath, and began.
"Sir, up until now I've kept my mouth shut because it hasn't affected your work. But now it's starting to."
"What's that? You think something's affecting my work?"
"Your drinking. I think you have a problem."
Lewis scowled a little. "Well, I don't, okay? I'd know if I did. I've been there once already, y'know, so I know how it is. There's no problem. Not that it's any of your business anyway, unless it affects my work. Which it doesn't."
"Sir, last night. We got called out. Only, you didn't answer your phone."
Lewis looked surprised. "I must have been asleep. I didn't hear it at all. Did she get someone else to go?"
Hathaway ignored the question. He had his script in his head and would not stray from it.
"I was in the area already, so I went to your flat. You didn't answer, but the door was unlocked so I went in."
Lewis's face darkened at that news.
"This is what I found." He took out his mobile and a thin cord that he used to attach it to Lewis's computer. "You weren't asleep. You were pissed into oblivion."
He started the video. Lewis shut his eyes and turned away.
"No! Don't you turn away! You look at yourself, Sir, and see what I had to see last night." Clenched teeth.
Lewis opened his eyes and stared at the horror on his screen. There wasn't much audio, but every now and then he could hear a sort of choked hiccup or a stifled sniffle in the background.
When at last the image froze and darkened, Hathaway stood up.
"Now look me in the eye and tell me you don't have a problem."
Lewis did not move. His eyes were riveted on the frozen screen for a long time. Then he moved the cursor to the triangle button in the middle of the image, and clicked it. The terrible scene played again, and Lewis never took his eyes away. He was shivering.
When it was done for the second time, Lewis inhaled deeply. He eyes strayed from the screen and roamed downward and over, fixing on the bottom drawer of his desk.
Hathaway caught the redirection. "If that's what you want, you might as well have it. I know it's in there."
Lewis exhaled, and pulled the drawer open. He took out the bottle, unscrewed the cap, and swallowed deeply. Then he retightened the cap. He rubbed his hand over his face several times, hard. He spoke without looking up.
"What have I become, James? Ah, God, I'm a sorry wreck. The only time I'm not completely miserable is when I'm here, working. I go home and I fall apart. Self-destruct. Only thing that gets me through the night is brandy -- liquid anaesthesia. I've made a mess of me flat." Then, more quietly, "Made a mess of me life."
Hathaway was silent a while. "Are you done feeling sorry for yourself yet? If not, I'll go have a smoke and come back later. I don't need to listen to your self-pity."
Lewis looked at him for the first time since he had viewed the video. His eyes looked hollow, and full of despair. "I need help with this, James." His voice shook.
"I thought that's what I was trying to do." He waited. "Well, what happens next?"
Lewis stared at the bottle in his hand. He tossed it underhanded to Hathaway. "For starters, we get rid of this. Sobriety begins now."
"How did you get sober the last time?"
"I checked into detox. They had a treatment centre right on the island, only a mile or two from the station there." He thought a while. "That's no good, I was in for a month, then. I don't want to miss that much work. And it would get people talking."
"What about counseling?"
"Nah, I can't stand that, talking about what I think is going on in me head." He exhaled loudly. "I'm just going to try to stay sober, every hour of every day."
"That seems like the hard way to do it, Sir, if I may say so."
"I have to do it my way, don't I? Look, can I call you if I need to?"
"Absolutely, Sir. Any time."
Lewis pressed his face into his hands as Hathaway tucked the bottle into his overcoat. No way could he just discard it in the waste bin in their office. He was just in time.
A head appeared around the doorway. "Oh, Lewis, you're here. Feeling better than last night?" Innocent looked concerned.
"Feeling worse, Ma'am."
"Maybe you should go home."
"I'll muddle through, thanks anyway."
By the end of the day, Lewis seemed to be doing pretty well. As they shut down their computers, Lewis held his hand outstretched, palm down. Hathaway could see a pronounced trembling.
Lewis studied it, too. "DTs. God, I hate this part."
"Is that serious? You want me to come home with you? I could help clean up."
"'S'okay. This should be about as bad as it gets. The shakes and the trots. I'll be alright. And I should clean up me own mess. Thanks anyway."
"I'll call, alright? Around ten? If you don't answer, I'm coming over."
"Fine, that'd be good." He turned to leave the office, but paused in the doorway. "Hathaway . . . I'm sorry you had to see that last night. But I guess I'm glad you did."
"No problem, Sir."
o - o - o