Chapter Three

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Of love and hate

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She was making coffee when the plain woman that she'd seen a few weeks before strolled in, 'You again.' she said looking puzzled.

'DCI Alex Drake' Alex held out her hand in a friendly gesture.

'Not an alcoholic then?' the woman touched her hand briefly, 'DS Jane Hepburn- almost certainly known as plain Jane and much worse behind my back. Taking over from his lordship are you?'

'Working along side him.' Alex smiled.

'Oh he'll love that.' Jane said wryly.

Alex nodded, 'Coffee?'

Jane shook her head and pulled a can of Coke from the fridge, 'How'd you get to be a frigging DCI?'

'More luck then judgement' Alex mumbled.

'On your back?' Jane said.

'I'm a psychologist.' Alex tried not to snap, but her nerves were strung tight.

'Oh' Jane upended the can and took a huge swallow, 'Welcome to the house of fun, anyway.' she strode out.

Alex put six sugars into Gene's coffee and took it back to the office. She had taken great care in making it exactly how he liked it; as she placed it in front of him he scowled and lifted it to his lips, sipping briefly, 'Not enough…' he stopped mid sentence, frowned, sipped again and looked up at her. 'well at least you make a passable cup of coffee, lucky me, got myself a new drinks dispenser.'

Alex brought in a chair from the incident room and put it the other side of his desk and sat down. They were face to face. She studied him carefully, looking for change, signs of aging. Men, she thought ruefully, some men improved with age and wouldn't you just know he was one of them; his face was slightly thinner, his eyes clearer, his mouth still curled in an almost cruel way, maybe there was silver among the gold in his hair, but it gave the illusion of it being even blonder. Whereas she, from the moment she climbed painfully over her fortieth birthday, had gone into a decline. She knew it, had noticed that the pertness had left as her weight plummeted, her skin was less dewy and fresh, she was thin to the point of scrawny. And she didn't even want to think about her lank hair.

'So- we're just going to sit here and look at each other are we?' Gene asked. 'Or are you trying to hypnotise me? Because it's not working.' In fact he wasn't quite telling the truth. She had unsettled him, and the making of the near perfect coffee had jolted him even more.

'I'm just waiting for the file so I can get on with my work.' her eyes didn't leave his.

'This is silly.' he sighed, 'You can't work in here.'

'Why not?' she asked.

'It's my office, my office.' he sounded about five years old.

I love you Gene

'I'm a DCI, therefore entitled to an office of my own. You've told me that there isn't one, so the only solution is for me to work from here.' she sounded a whole lot calmer than she felt. She was worried that he would shove her in Keats' old office and keep cramming bicycles on top of her.

'Guv!'

Gene frowned and Alex turned as a tall dark haired wideboy dressed from head to toe in stonewashed denim blundered in without knocking.

'Hello?' his dark brown eyes gave her a derisory once over.

'This is Detective Chief Inspector Alex….er' Gene faltered.

'Drake.' Alex said.

'Drake' repeated Gene thoughtfully.

For a moment she wondered if his memory had been jogged, but then he carried on, 'She has a PhD in coffee making so no doubt we'll be able to keep her off the streets.' he looked back at Alex, 'This is my DI, Tom Cooper.'

'Hi' Tom said.

'She's here from D&C to investigate the Joseph Blake case.' Gene warned Tom.

'Oh right.' Tom's face shut down immediately. 'Been an eyeball on Johnny Harris hotfooting it into a club in Soho' he told Gene.

'Well what are we waiting for?' Gene was out of his chair immediately.

Alex stood up to go with them out of old habits that seemingly hadn't died at all.

'You don't have to stand in my presence DCI Drake' Gene smirked.

Tom glanced at her arse.

'Nothing to see' Gene saw him having a sly peek.

The two men exchanged looks. Alex felt a spark of indignation. She knew her trouser suit was baggy arsed. It was meant to be. Sexist pigs.

'Thought I might tag along ' she said brightly.

'Well you thought wrong.' Gene replied, grabbing his coat and at the same time slinging a file at her, 'You wanted an office to yourself- your wish has been granted.'

In the car park he and Tom got into a filthy black Merc with a dented wing, and took off out of the car-park.

'I'm fucked ain't I?' Tom said.

'Dunno' Gene said, not very reassuringly, 'Hard one to call, that woman. You need to tell her the truth and you'll be fine.'

'No-one would believe the truth.' Tom said. 'Not if they thought they knew me, anyway.'

'Well she doesn't know you does she? If you'd used your head for thinking instead of being ruled by your dick ,ball-breaker Drake wouldn't even be here.' Gene slid the Merc deftly around a blind bend, 'What the sodding hell?' the road was gridlocked, 'I hate bloody Soho.' he leaned back and lit a panatela.

'Happiness is a cigar called…' Tom said, sticking his head out of the window, noticing a parking space 'Maybe we can just squeeze in there and walk.'

'Maybe, except I'm busy now.' Gene said exhaling smoke and closing his eyes.

'Right boss.' Tom knew when to shut up, he'd learned quickly.

Pretty soon they were being hooted at by all the cars stuck behind them. Gene took no notice and carried on smoking his cigar in a leisurely fashion.

'Johnny Harris will be long gone.' fretted Tom.

'Probably! Still…' Gene crushed out his cigar, 'let's go see shall we?' he pulled the Merc into the parking space, denting its other wing on a Luton van.

'You could do with a tank' Tom remarked, 'This poor car.'

A memory of a pink tank floated through Gene's head, one of his officers had commandeered one once, who was it? He shook his head, couldn't remember, 'I had a Quattro a few years back' he told Tom, 'Best car I ever drove, more nippy than this heap. Right let's go and have a word with Master Harris.'

oxxo

Alex had been through the file a few times. She wished she could think straight but she couldn't. it was funny how smells brought memories zooming back so effectively. Gene's office still smelled the same as it ever had ; the industrial furniture polish the cleaners had always used mingling with the faint remnants of his shaving foam, whisky and tobacco. She felt several pairs of eyes on her as she sat with her back to the main room of CID.

'My office- it's my office'- Gene's office- him -his -he.

The words in the scant report on Joseph Blake were running around the page like naughty children. She couldn't keep them still. She could feel his lips on hers from all those years ago.

'Hurry - it's your only chance'

'I can go home Gene'

'Yes you can- so stop talking and start walking.'

'I could stay here with you'

'No- quick before pencilneck changes his mind.'

'I lo..-'

'Don't you dare!'

'Alright'

But she had to kiss him, couldn't go without knowing the taste of his lips. She put her hand up to his face, and although he kissed her tenderly, he had held something back, she could feel the terrible power of it being restrained.

Then she had walked away from him and Keats; leaving him to god knows what, and she had woken from a strange dream into a living nightmare where she was sane and everyone else was mad. Back to 2006, where she learned the true meaning of hell on earth.

One name stood out in the report; DC Rebecca Swan, who was conspicuous by her absence. Alex stood up and stuck her head out of the door of Gene's office, 'Rebecca Swan?' she asked, not altogether hopeful of an answer, there were hostile looks from all quarters.

Jane Hepburn shrugged and glugged back more Coke, 'She transferred…Ma'am', the Ma'am part of the reply was reluctant.

Alex stepped out into CID, everyone sat po-faced as she wandered around. She came to her old desk; the 6620 graffiti preserved for posterity; as she ran her fingers over it, Gene and Tom swept back in through the double doors.

Gene stared at her, 'Found a bit of dust BB?'

He looked down at the graffiti and back up at her.

As their eyes locked he was mystified by the desperation he saw in her. But then again he thought, it was hardly surprising she was desperate; he'd seen her type before, although not in the police force perhaps, scraggy, embittered career women who had nothing but the perceived power their position gave them. Poor cow.

'Bebe?' she asked.

'BB- your new nickname- specially chosen and bestowed upon you by the Gene genie.' he said.

Tom smirked nastily.

'I'd like to interview your DI' she aimed for calmness.

'I'm sure that can be arranged.' Gene replied, checking his watch, 'But oh look- it's beer o'clock again. Tomorrow is another day.'

CID was more motivated then she had seen it all day as everyone stood up and began heading to the door. Gene went to his office, Alex followed.

He was loosening his tie and gathering up some papers.

'Where do you drink now?' she asked.

'What do you mean-now? Where we've always drank - L'auberge' he replied.

'What's the house wine like?' she asked.

'Rubbish' he said.

'Home from home then' she smiled, reminded fondly of Luigi, she ploughed on almost without thinking, 'Talking of home, does your wife mind you drinking after hours with your officers?'

'My wife?' he shook his head, 'I don't have a wife.'

'But I saw you with…' she stopped.

He turned and his eyes stabbed through her, 'It's none of your business!' he was outraged, 'have you been spying on me? On my personal life! I mean you only started today, been snooping around… hang on….I remember now, you were here a week or two ago. Sneaky as well as skanky eh?'

Alex couldn't stop digging, 'Yes, I saw a woman and child…'

'Claudia' Gene said, 'She's not my wife.'

'But you're with her?' she couldn't believe how much it hurt to ask.

'It's-none-of-your-business' he seethed.

'The child?' yeah go on, twist the knife Alex

'None-of-your-business.' he repeated.

She nodded, 'No, it's not, you're right, I'm sorry. Like you said, it's personal. Can I buy you a drink?'

He shrugged, 'Ok, but I'm expensive.'

oxxo