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Ste sat in awkward silence in the passenger seat of Brendan's car. Neither he or the DS had said a word since leaving MIT, and it was beginning to unnerve him.
Then again, what was probably more unnerving was the ridiculous speed the man beside him was driving at.
Oh, and the prospect of a dead body on his first day didn't help, either.
The way his mind was working, anyone would think he'd never done this job before; he was still quite young, after all. But the truth was that this village seemed to suffer far more from dangerous crimes than his home town of Manchester.
Leaving the comforts of Salford hadn't been an easy decision. But when those comforts had all but vanished, the choice had been taken out of his hands.
"Looking a bit pale there, Steven," DS Brady remarked, interrupting his thoughts. "Ye sure ye can handle this?"
Not for the first time that day, Ste felt a stab of irritation. And it wasn't just due to the fixation on his full name. He had a feeling that was something that was going to stick.
This time it was the blatant disbelief the man seemed to have over his capability that got to him.
He was also annoyed with himself, though. Why did he have to be so transparent during his silent anxiety attack?
"I'm fine, thanks," he answered in the obligatory civil tone.
"Right. Only, ye sound anything but," the Sergeant pointed out.
Damn him, why couldn't he just drop it?
"Really, DS Brady, there's nowt wrong with me," Ste insisted.
The Irishman sighed in exasperation. "I told ye to call me Brendan," he reminded him. "And I can see by the look on ye face that ye have more to say, so why don't ye just spit it out?"
Because what I want to say starts with a four letter word and ends in 'off', Ste thought, his patience beginning to wear thin.
He was actually quite relieved when he realised they'd arrived at the crime scene, so he didn't have to come up with a more suitable response.
The moment the Sergeant had stopped the car, Ste opened the passenger door, jumped out and walked briskly to where the rest of the team stood. He ignored the odd look he got for his behaviour and focused on what the Chief Inspector was saying.
Unfortunately, their arrival had cut DCI Osborne off in his briefing.
"How does a man with a driving technique as erratic as yours still end up on a time delay, Brady?"
Brendan merely shrugged, eyes indifferent to the minor dressing down as well as the sight of the body on the ground before them.
"What can I say," he answered matter-of-factly. "I'm gifted. That, and we took the scenic route."
Ste tore his eyes from the dead man's frail form and looked at Brendan, suddenly furious. What was with this 'we'? He barely knew Chester. If they had taken the scenic route, he'd certainly not known about it.
And spending any longer than necessary alone with this insufferable man wasn't something he'd have chosen to do.
He was just on the point of protesting when he realised that their boss's attention was now back on the job. It seemed Brendan had got off lightly once again.
"Right," announced the DCI abruptly. "We need an ID on this man as soon as possible. DS Brady, I want you and DI Walker to get onto that as soon as we're finished here."
Brendan grumbled at that, and apparently this reaction came as no surprise to everyone else. It didn't change the situation, though.
Ste moved forward and knelt down next to the body.
"Don't-"
"Don't touch anything, I know," he finished, cutting DC Hayton – Nancy – off from her objection as politely as he could. Here was another one who doubted his abilities.
No one else commented, and he didn't turn to look at his colleagues or superior officers. He just went on instinct.
The man was lying on his front, the back of his head caked in blood. One of his arms was crossed over his chest, while the other was by his side.
Ste looked again and noticed that the hand by the victim's side was closed - almost as if it had been clenched into a fist before the fatal head wound had been struck.
Annoyingly, DS Brady seemed to be reading his thoughts.
"Looks like he was ready to defend himself," the Irishman remarked from behind him.
Ste wondered whether this guy was enjoying rubbing him up the wrong way. Then he scolded himself for thinking like a kid in a playground and told himself to grow up.
His gaze fell on the dead man's clothing. He was wearing jeans, and from where Ste was crouching he could see that there was something in his front pocket.
If this Brendan spotted it before he could mention it himself, he was going to be mightily pissed off. And he didn't much care about how immature he sounded inside his head; or about the fact that the bloke was his Sergeant.
He turned to his DCI, who was now the only one stood behind him, he realised. The others were stood a short distance away, apparently talking over the next steps. He must have been very deeply engrossed not to have heard them move.
"Sir...erm, Boss," he corrected, remembered the Chief Inspector's words that morning over what not to call him. "It looks like there's something in his pocket."
He gestured towards the body and tried to sound like he knew what he was talking about. Which he was 90% certain he did - his main issue was having the confidence to say it all.
"If we hadn't already had this down as a mugging, I'd be betting it's either his wallet or his phone."
Ste watched as DCI Osborne's previously unreadable face cleared, and a knowing smile appeared in its place. "Ah, but perhaps our initial suspicions were wrong?" he replied.
There was a pause while his words sunk in, and then Ste's face crinkled in confusion even when the penny dropped.
"You...already noticed his pockets, didn't you?" he checked unnecessarily. "I don't get it. Why didn't you..."
"DI Walker and I spotted it just before you and the Boy Racer over there turned up," he pointed towards the Sergeant. "I had a feeling you'd turn out to be a bright one. DC Hayton usually ends up making all these ground-breaking discoveries while those other lazy toe-rags just arse about. Thought you should get a decent shot at proving yourself to the lot of them."
Ste's mouth dropped open, and he briefly wondered why this Nancy wasn't of a higher ranking if she was so much smarter than the likes of DS Brady.
But it sounded very much like Jack Osborne was impressed with him, and he wasn't going to pass up the compliment.
"Er, right," he replied. "Thanks? So, what's next now then?"
DC Hayton chose that moment to approach them with about four people following briskly behind her.
"Forensics are here," she announced right on cue with Ste's question. "Right pocket - there's something in it," she added efficiently over her shoulder.
He glanced at her in wonder, but she merely smiled at him with the utmost professionalism.
Had they all noticed it before him?
Did that mean the comment about finding an ID had been a false order?
And more to the point, while he was busy asking himself these endless questions, what kind of detective team waited for a newbie to catch up on the vitals of a case before acting on what they knew?
This one, apparently.
"Right," the DCI said loudly after the team had stood and watched the body as it was removed – but not before spotting a wallet being retrieved first. So that well and truly took care of the identification, then.
"I'll see you all bright and early in the morning! We've got a lot to do. Go home, get some sleep and be ready for another long day, guys."
With that, the man disappeared - as did DI Walker, who still had yet to say anything of any substance to Ste.
"Right," Brendan echoed, rubbing his hands together in satisfaction. Anyone could be forgiven for thinking that there had been no body laying in the vicinity just minutes ago. The Irishman was practically hopping from foot to foot, such was his sudden good mood. "Who's for the pub?"
Nancy actually nodded, and Ste was surprised that after all he'd heard about the woman today, she wasn't heading straight home for an early night. He'd actually been considering it himself; but now he was growing curious about his new town. He seemed to be working with a mixed bunch of people including the eccentric, the clever and the downright irritating.
Maybe there would be some actual sane, normal people in this pub.
"Ye coming or what, Steven? Haven't got all day, ye know," his Sergeant huffed impatiently, although Ste got the strangest feeling from the look on Brendan's face that he was hoping the answer was a yes.
He agreed to go for one drink on the unspoken basis that he could always escape and feign tiredness if he wasn't keen on how the evening was going. Following his colleagues, he saw Brendan pull his car keys from his pocket.
Of course, there was always the very real possibility that he might not the survive the forthcoming car journey with this lunatic; let alone the night ahead.
It scared him a little that this thought didn't stop him from getting into the car.