Saturday, Lewis woke with a bad hangover. His head felt like it had been more than only the last round that had been over his limit the previous evening. But remembering the fun he had had, he decided it was worth it.
After showering and dressing, he went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. While he waited for the water to boil, an image from last night's dream crept up on him. An image of blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. He blinked. What was that about? It had probably been the way the man had looked at him that had given him this feeling of being observed all evening long. And obviously that thought had still been on the back of his mind when he had tumbled into bed.
He dismissed the thought and rummaged through his cupboard, looking for a new box of muesli. While his tea brewed, he fetched the newspaper. Their arrest had made it onto page three. After skimming through the article, he decided Innocent would be content with it; for once, no bad word about the police.
Some fresh air would do him good, he pondered after breakfast. He needed to do a bit of shopping anyway, so he walked to the nearest supermarket. The sun was shining and slightly blinded him, reflecting off the store windows. Having to squint didn't help his hangover much and he regretted not bringing his sunglasses.
Suddenly, he had that impression of being watched again – and had he seen a face amid the reflections of the sun? He turned and looked around but didn't see anyone familiar. A woman with a toddler loading her shopping into the back of her car and a young couple just getting out of another car were the only people in sight. He shook his head. What was it with him lately? Was he becoming paranoid in his old days? Firmly pushing all thoughts of being observed away, he went shopping.
He spent the rest of the day at home. Coming back in from the bright daylight outside made him realize how much his flat was in need of a thorough spring-cleaning and he set to work on it. With a window open in every room to get out the stale smell and some upbeat rock compilation on his stereo, he soon didn't mind the work any more. It was surprisingly satisfying to throw out a stack of old newspapers waiting by the door, to clean the bath so it shone again in the bit of daylight the small window let in...
By mid afternoon he slumped down on his sofa, exhausted but satisfied with his work – and without having given any further thought to blue eyes. The physical work had also helped to get rid of the last of his hangover. He picked up his phone and called his daughter who sounded delighted at the happy note she detected in her father's voice.
Lewis spent the rest of the afternoon reading the newspaper. He even tried to solve the crossword puzzle but had to admit defeat a bit over halfway through it. He was fairly certain Hathaway would have been able to help with most of the missing words, but calling his Sergeant on his day off to have him help with a crossword was out of the question. After all, crosswords had never been his favourite waste of time anyway. He managed the Sudoku on the last page without any problems though. It sort of made up for the crossword.
Around six he went to his freshly cleaned kitchen and got out his groceries. He had decided against a microwave dinner and had bought fresh ingredients instead. While he was cutting the vegetables, he thought how nice it would be to have company, cooking for one wasn't his thing. Involuntarily his gaze was drawn to the photograph of Valerie that sat in a shelf but he resisted the urge to sigh and instead smiled at the picture. "Sure won't be as good as you used to do it, love," he told the smiling photograph and turned his focus back to not cutting his fingers.
He had just put a pot of water on the stove when his doorbell rang. He stared in the direction of his front door for a moment, wondering who it would be. He didn't expect anyone. Of course his Sergeant had developed the tendency to show up unannounced, so it would probably be him, he mused and walked over to the door.
