Thanks for your reviews so far. It's always nice to read that other people care about my scribbling. In case you haven't noticed, every chapter's name is a song title. You can find the soundtrack on spotify. Enjoy the ride and now off to Chapter 3!

Chapter 3 - Tom's Diner

The next morning Matthew woke up early. A quick glance at his mobile told him it was still early, but he remembered the task he had set himself the evening before and decided to start the day early. To his surprise he found his mother in the kitchen. She was already dressed and working at her laptop. He smiled when he saw how absorbed she was in her work. As long as he could remember his mother had always been full of energy and an almost annoying thirst for action.

"You're up early," he greeted her while he fished a mug out of a cupboard and filled it with fresh coffee.

"Of necessity," she answered. "I still have to prepare two sessions for today."

Matthew wrinkled his forehead. "Didn't you say you were working late last night?"

Isobel interrupted her quick typing and looked up from her screen. "I didn't know I was under surveillance."

He blushed. "You are not… but…" He was speechless. Before he had moved in with his mother he had never cared for how she spent her evenings and he had never asked her. It wasn't his business, though he wasn't happy with the fact that she had a relationship with a married man he was wise enough not to mention it. The one and only time they had argued about it was not something he wanted to be reminded of. In his opinion she deserved better, but he wasn't eager to discuss the matter any further- mostly because she liked to remind him about his own messed up love life.

"Forget it." Irritated by this strange conversation he turned to leave.

"A patient of mine was institutionalised. It messed up my schedule."

He stopped and turned to her. "I'm sorry." He didn't know what exactly he was sorry for. His mother took her profession seriously and every time a patient suffered, she suffered as well. He also hated to argue with her, especially when the reason for the argument was nothing but a silly misunderstanding.

She shrugged and avoided his eyes. "It happens - and never mind." Isobel finished her coffee and looked at her watch. "I have to go now. See you tonight?"

"Not sure. I'll text you later."

"Not necessary. I'll leave you some food in the fridge."

Isobel kissed her son's sheek and then she left. Matthew stayed behind and looked into his mug. Suddenly he felt alone and a little foolish. His coffee ended down the drain. It tasted too bitter.

Violet sat at her kitchen table and smoked a cigarette. She had nicked it from Igor's silver cigarette case that lay on the bedside table. He was still asleep and hadn't noticed her sneaking out. She enjoyed the silence of the early morning, before he woke up. She had never really liked being alone, but she wasn't a morning person and preferred to wake up in peace and without witnesses. It gave her the time to contemplate what Igor had told her about Irina's death the night before. Apparently the media didn't even know half of the story, which was a blessing. The question was how long the circumstances of her death could be kept a secret. What she dreaded most aside from the fact that a person she had appreciated to a certain degree was dead, was that Irina's demise could lead to Igor's dismissal from office. She knew he wasn't ready to leave the diplomatic service yet.

There was also another aspect of Igor's theory about Irina's death that made her nervous. If she hated something it was uncertainty and the idea that a member of her own family could be responsible for the mess made her sick. Her husband's legacy was already at stake because Patrick had been arrested for murder. The law practise would be finished, if something like this happened again.

With rising discomfort she looked at the business card on the table. She ran her finger tips over the engraved name and silently cursed the person behind the characters.

When she heard his footsteps on the staircase, she looked up. He appeared in the doorway, visibly bleary and not in a good mood. The mobile in his hand told her what woke him up.

"I'm afraid there's no time for breakfast," he said as he shoved the mobile into the pocket of his navy bathrobe she had given him many years ago for Christmas.

"I had no intention of serving breakfast," she quipped, but the grin froze on her face when she saw how serious he was. "What happened?"

"Call your granddaughter."

"Mary? Why?"

"I'm afraid our problem develops into a major catastrophe. The man I sent to her to discuss the details of Irina's murder is dead."

Violet swallowed. "What? Why?"

"I don't know. They found his body in his car earlier this morning."

"Was he alone?" Cold fear spread within her chest. If something had happened to Mary because of her...

"According to my contacts yes. The embassy has already taken care of the body before the police could get hold of him"

As quickly as her hip allowed it, Violet got her feet to look for her handbag. She hated her mobile phone with passion, even though she had to acknowledge that in times of need the device came in handy.

As always Charles Carson and Elsie Hughes were the first ones to start the working day at the office. It had become some kind of habit for them to share a first cup of coffee in 'Tom's diner', a small breakfast bar near the office. Charles enjoyed starting his day with Elsie Hughes's company. She made him smile, even when he was angry.

"My, my, you're early," she greeted him when she slipped on the seat opposite him. As always she looked fresh and energetic, which was more than he could say for himself. He had spent his night tossing and turning and the cold shower at six o'clock didn't help to oust his bad forebodings.

"My night ended early," he admitted.

"You have to get used to him, you know," Elsie said after she had ordered a coffee and a sandwich.

"I don't see how this know-it-all can help to rebuild the form's reputation."

"Well, you have to give him a chance." Elsie gave him a smile. "He has gained a lot of experience over the last couple of years."

Charles scoffed. "So, have I and so has Mary."

"Well, I agree about you," she said, "But Mary's only got to blame herself. If she hadn't shagged that…" Charles raised his hand, interrupting her. Elsie crooked her eyebrow. Mary was the apple of Charles Carson's eye and every time they talked about her, they ended up in an argument.

"She got betrayed," Charles said. "It happens to the best of us and it wasn't fair to drag her into the mud for it."

"Whatever." The waitress served Elsie's breakfast and Charles ordered a second coffee. He needed all the energy he could get.

"All I'm saying is that Matthew Crawley is no saint and has been around himself. May I remind you about his dead girlfriend in Oxford?"

Elsie nodded. "I know, I know. Let's face it, we all have been around the block a few times."

"I'm certainly not!"

She laughed when she saw the indignant expression on his face. "Even you, my dear Charles and I admit I would love to know more of your dark secrets."

"You first!" He felt how his face had turned red and he was glad the waitress approached their table to serve his coffee. The last thing he wanted was to give away more of his emotional life to Elsie Hughes than he wanted. Some things were just too personal, too endangering to share them.

Richard Clarkson was an early riser and since he lived close to the office, he was often the first one to arrive. It could have been a completely ordinary morning, if he hadn't entered Isobel's office to return some medical files to her desk. Her office was usually tidy, but he had learned that the devil is always in the detail. First he noticed the two empty wine glasses next to her screen and then a certain piece of clothing that peeped out from under her desk. He bent down to pick it up. It was a burgundy coloured tie, exactly the one he had seen around Dickie Merton's neck the evening before. So much for her hard work! What did she see in this boring literature professor? Not only was he married, his wife was also one of her patients. He knew she had transferred Ada Merton to another doctor, but that didn't reduce the ethical issue of the case. It was utterly wrong of her to use their common office for a roll in the hay!

He looked disgusted at the tie and placed it all over her keyboard.

"Good morning!"

He jerked around when he heard Isobel's voice. Since when did she arrive so early? She stood in the doorway, a coffee-to-go in her hand and he had to admit she had never looked so beautiful before - at least not in his eyes. There was a glow about her that made his heart skip a beat. Then he remembered he wasn't the one who was the reason for her sparkle and his facial expression darkened.

"Did you have a good sleep?" he asked sourly. "I didn't expect you this early."

"I have a lot to do," she said as she took off her coat.

"Well, your work is on your desk," he said. "Oh and one more thing... "

"Yes?" she asked puzzled. "Discretion is not a sin and some professional courtesy never goes amiss."

"But what..."

On his way out he slammed the door, leaving her behind. Puzzled by Richard's behaviour she looked on her desk. When her eyes fell on Dickie's tie, the reason for his coldness dawned on her and she drew a deep breath.

In her bag her mobile phone was whistling. It was the signal she had installed for calls and messages from Dickie. He wasn't someone who used modern communication devices often and so she was eager to see what was going on. His message made her completely forget about Clarkson's boisterious exit.

I miss you. Lunch at one in Covent Garden?

She bit her lip and quickly typed her response.

Miss you too. Found your tie in my office. ;-) Same as always?

Yes. I cannot wait. Love, D.

She knew she had no right to feel this blissful, but she did and she had decided to savour every minute of it. She gently squeezed Dickie's tie between her fingers and put it in her bag. It wouldn't be too long before she could return it.

Mary entered Tom's diner shortly after nine o'clock. She felt as if a train had hit her. She hadn't slept a wink and while she was under the shower to wash of the chaos of the previous night, her grandmother had called her, utterly upset, because the news about Kemal Pamuk's death had already reached her. At least she could ease Violet's worries about her safety, but now she was facing an emergency meeting in her grandmother's house around lunch time.

Mary ordered a double espresso and stared at the news screen at the wall. A blonde, female reporter was standing at the River Thames and behind her a car was lifted out of the water. It was Pamuk's car, but, of course, he wasn't in it - at least not anymore. The Russian embassy had taken care of everything and now the press and the Met were wondering what was going on. Pamuk's mobile was in her handbag - dead as his owner, because he had turned it off, before they had gone to her apartment. She had decided not to turn it over to the Russians. It was just an inkling, but she wanted to follow it.

"May I join you?"

Mary looked up and was surprised and a bit dismayed to see Matthew.

"Of course."

"Thank you."

He looked as if he hadn't slept any more than she had she thought when she watched him discreetly while he looked around.

"I'm glad to see that nothing has changed around here," he said. "Everyone's still coming here for their first coffee."

"It's still the best coffee in town," Mary said. "But they recently added soya latte to the menu."

Silence fell between them and when he couldn't take it anymore Matthew straightened his back. "Listen, Mary…."

"We are okay," she cut him off.

"Are we?" He asked surprised.

She nodded. "I know I wasn't a good sport yesterday, but I'm a woman, not a saint. Dad quite steamrolled me with his decision to bring you back. I had no time to get used to the idea."

He smirked. "He steamrolled me as well. I really want this to work out, you know. I want to help Robert - and you."

"Thank you. I want to help him, too."

"So, we're friends again?" he asked hopefully.

"I'm not sure we will be good at that," Mary admitted. "But I guess we could try to be good co workers."

Again their conversation faded into silence. Tom, the owner of the café approached their table and served the coffee. He was about Mary's age, Irish, and always in a good mood.

"Good morning, folks. It's been some time!"

"It is indeed," Matthew said. "But it's good to see some things never change."

"Well, we now serve soya latte," Tom said. "Care to try?"

"Not really," Matthew and Mary answered unisono.

"Well, then enjoy the coffee," Tom said and withdrew again.

"Co workers then," Matthew repeated Mary's words before Tom had interrupted them.

"Yes. We've been worse and I…"

"Please, go on."

"I don't want us to be like that again."

"Me neither."

He stretched out his hand and Mary shook it. It was the beginning of a new chapter in their relationship and this time, Mary hoped, it wouldn't end with someone being dead.

***tbc****