Keats slammed the door to his office, blowing half his files off the desk. He pulled off his coat and threw it in the general direction of the coat stand. The passing of the night had done nothing to cool his ire. How dare she? That girl! That little girl. Messing in things she has no business in. That was the second soul she had personally cost him. And she had made a fool of him. Again. And what was worse she had made a fool of him in front of Hunt. And after I saved her pathetic, miserable life…well, what's left of it. He punched the filing cabinet, creating a satisfying dent in the smooth metal. He contemplated the damage, grinning. Nothing compared to what I will do to them soon.
Sarah heard the clang of fist meeting metal across the CID office.
"Sounds like Jimbo is in for the day," she muttered.
Gene raised his eyebrows. They were staring at the incident board studying the map of the fires. "Well, I'm sure we can expect a visit from our friendly office four-eyes at any moment. In the meantime, we've got Mr Graham on his way in for interview."
"There must be someone he's fallen out with," Sarah looked at her notes. "Something ties this together."
The door to the main office crashed open. "DCI Hunt, DI Jenkins, the office. Now!" Keats stormed through CID into Gene's office.
"Round two," Gene whispered as they followed Keats.
"You think you're so clever, don't you?" Keats demanded as soon as the door was closed.
"I dunno," Gene shrugged. "I can usually manage The Sun Junior Jumble on a Saturday. What about you, Lady Muck?"
"I can do a mean Countdown Conundrum," Sarah agreed.
"Yeah, yeah, very funny. You're a regular double act these days, aren't you?" Keats sneered. "Well, spare me the Morecambe and Wise routine. I'm not seeing any results, and this does not please me."
"Well I'm sorry about that Jimbo," Gene smiled. "How can we make it up to you? Bunch of flowers? Box of Quality Street maybe? Quick fumble behind Luigi's? Although Ms Jenkins would 'ave to take care of that one."
"You will give me progress on this matter by the end of this week, or I am taking over this investigation. That means Hunt, you're out. And Miss Jenkins," a shark-like smile split his face. "You will be transferred to my team. Under my personal supervision."
"Is that all, Jimbo? Only we've got an interview to prepare for," Gene turned to a filing cabinet and began rifling through it.
Keats walked up close to Sarah. "I'm looking forward to working with you again," he breathed, running his hand down her arm. "You are going to do your best work under me. You'll see."
"I warned you before," Gene growled. "Sexual harassment."
"She loves it, don't you Sarah?" Keats smiled.
"In your mind she does," Gene spat.
"Do you mind?" Sarah asked. "She is still here, thank you."
"See you soon," Keats grinned and left the office.
"I don't like this," Gene closed the door after him and rounded on Sarah. "The two of you, the history, this little game you're playing. None of this feels right."
"Leave him to me, Guv," Sarah soothed.
"What do you know about him?" Gene demanded. "What was in his file?"
"I didn't find his file."
"Don't give me that!" Gene snapped. "I've dealt with enough lying bastards in my time to see a big fat porky pie when it comes my way. And, Lady Muck, that is a prize winning, rosette wearing whopper. And I saw the look on your face when he walked into Luigi's yesterday with that piece of skirt, and it wasn't the wellbeing of the administrative department weighing on your mind. I know the green eyed monster when I see it, and I saw it last night. Now what the hell is going on?"
Sarah regarded him. She had always had a gut feeling about Gene Hunt; she had always thought she could trust him with anything. So why was her gut telling her not to discuss PC James Keats with DCI Gene Hunt? Was it some strange loyalty to James? Or something else?
"Okay, yes, I was jealous," she admitted. "Whatever went on between James and I before…there's unfinished business. And yes, I lied to you. And I have my reasons. I'm asking you, please, to trust me on this."
"If you're wrong…"
"If I'm wrong, then it's me he's after," she pointed out. "If I'm wrong then it's my soul, my choice. Me."
A knock at the door interrupted them. The female PC poked her head in. "Mr Graham has arrived."
"Stick him in interview room one," Gene instructed and the PC withdrew. "I hope you know what you're doing, Sarah."
"James and I…"Sarah began. "It's complicated. You know that. I just…I have to do this my own way. I promise I won't do anything that puts your department in jeopardy."
"Fine," Gene muttered, reluctantly. "I'll leave him to you. But if you end up spending eternity as some weird kind of concubine to old pencil neck out there, don't say I didn't warn you."
"Understood. Now shall we?" Sarah opened the door and headed for the interview room. Gene followed as a gloomy sense of dread settled over him. He did not have a good feeling about where this one was heading. Not at all.
"Why am I here?" Ross Graham was in no mood for small talk. "You think I would torch my own business?"
"What's up, Graham?" Gene spat. "Bring back happy memories of times past?"
"Mr Graham," Sarah kicked Gene under the desk. "We're very sorry about your business. All we want to do is find whoever is responsible and bring them to justice, before any more incidents of this nature happen and somebody gets hurt."
"I don't know nothing," Ross protested.
"Think back," Sarah pressed. "Can you think of anyone you've argued with? Anyone you've fallen out with?"
"No, they asked me this last night," Ross rubbed his face.
"This is a waste of time," Gene grumbled.
"Any dissatisfied customers?" Sarah persisted. "Any complaints?"
"It happens, I mean, I'm a mechanic," Ross shrugged. "People aren't happy when they come in for an MOT and leave with a five hundred quid bill."
"Anything recent?"
"There was this bloke, came in for new brakes, but when I told him his front axle was knackered he kicked off," Ross remembered. "He refused to pay and drove off."
"Can you remember his name?" Sarah asked.
"Clive. Clive Young," Ross shook his head. "Local simpleton. He never was right in the head."
"He was on your suspect list," Gene stood up. "Wasn't 'ome yesterday. Let's bring 'im in."
Sarah rose. "Thank you, Mr Graham. We'll let you know if there's anything else."
Sarah followed Gene from the room. "We're going to 'ave this toerag."
"Careful Guv," Sarah warned. "He's got learning difficulties."
"He's also got previous, if I remember rightly."
"Violent disorder," Sarah mused. "No history of arson. Anyway, we'll need to inform Social Services."
"You do that, Lady Muck," Gene stalked away. "Meanwhile I'm going to make an arrest."
"Guv, just….by the book, alright?" Sarah shouted at his retreating back. "Keats is going to be all over us on this."
"Like you said," Gene called as he disappeared out the door, "he's your bother, not mine."