When the morning came, grey clouds kept the sun at bay, sending a chill through James as he stalked across the car park towards the entrance of the pathology department. He missed the days when the morgue was housed in the same building as CID, at least then you could stay warm as you flitted between the two. He spotted that Dr. Hobson's car was already here along with a handful of others, but no sign yet of his Inspector's. He half hoped that leaving the two of them alone at the pub might have sparked one or both of them into action, but he knew he was being optimistic on that front. Still, he'd had an enjoyable evening at least. The band he'd had tickets for had been better than expected and he'd run into some old mates which has been a pleasant surprise. Several pints and too many vodka shots later he'd found himself crashing out on the sofa of one of the band members who, it turned out, was a friend of a friend. His hangover was proving either to be surprising light or, and this was highly probably, hadn't actually kicked in yet. Making his way to the part of the mortuary that Laura favoured for her PMs, he reflected that keeping his potential fragile state to himself might be wise. He could just about stand the teasing that would inevitably follow from Lewis, but Laura's glee in discovering it would manifest itself quite differently. Never one to hold back on the blood and gore, it would ramp up a notch and bets would be laid if the possibility of reacquainting a copper with their breakfast was on the cards.
"Morning, Sergeant. Bright and early, I see. You didn't get the message then? About the later start?" Laura asked, predictably sizing up exactly how green about the gills James was looking.
"No, I seem to have been overlooked in regards to that piece of information," he said ruefully, thinking how an extra bit of sleep would not have gone amiss. But, he thought, this did present the opportunity he'd been looking for and sooner than anticipated. "How was the rest of your evening, Doctor. You and the Inspector enjoy yourselves?"
Laura shrugged, "Oh, you know us, James," she said, in a non-committed tone, "We're not ones to shy away from a good conversation over a drink."
She started to pull out more of the equipment that she'd be needing. Her assistant had made a start but on discovering that the team on call overnight had failed to restock some essential items she'd been dispatched to locate additional supplies.
James nodded in agreement, "No, true. You don't shy away from that."
His emphasis on the last word caused her to stop what she was doing and look up, her eyes narrowing. He could see her contemplating her options, knowing that she was perfectly capable of hauling him over the coals as easily as she was of dismissing him and his cheek with just one withering look.
"What do you mean?" she asked, her voice surprising him with its tone. He'd expected sarcasm but it sounded like a genuine question to which she wanted a truthful answer. He swallowed, knowing full well that the risk that came with the next bit.
"With all due respect, Laura, you and Lewis are, well, how shall I put it..." he paused briefly, "Very good at pretending not to see what is painfully obvious to the rest of us."
He looked at her, unable to read her face at all. God, she was good, he thought, as he waited with baited breath for her response.
She turned away and tried to continue acting normally, asking calmly, "And, what is that exactly?"
But she knew full well what he was about to say, and was torn between giving in to the anger rising up inside at the inevitable confirmation they were the subject of gossip, and the sheer curiosity that he might confirm what she hoped to be true. James' answer felt like an age in coming.
"That you care very deeply about one another but are both too scared to confront it head on."
His words hung in the air for a moment before the clatter of a tray of instruments being wheeled in caused them both to start and the moment of brutal honesty dissipated. Snapping back into professional mode, Laura started instructing her assistant on what needed to be done and as she did so went to extraordinary lengths to avoid catching James' eye.
Dragging herself from her bed and reaching for her dressing gown, Katherine wondered who on earth could be hammering on the door this early. She'd had a night of fitful sleep, to be expected she'd told herself at 2am as she'd veered from desperate sobs to silent stares towards her husband's side of the bed. Around 4am she passed out with exhaustion and glancing at the hall clock now was not cheered by the hands showing her the time. Unlocking and opening the door she was surprised at the sight of Kevin's boss, Jackson, on her doorstep.
"God, Katherine, I just heard. I'm so sorry," he began.
She shushed him for fear he'd wake the boys and ushered him in towards the kitchen. As she put the kettle on he paced up and and down, wringing his hands, uttering his condolences and shock at what had happened. Eventually persuading him to sit at the breakfast bar, she passed him a mug of coffee and leaned back on the counter to look at him. They'd never been friends, her and Jackson, always competing for Kevin's attention. She'd always thought he'd demanded too much of her husband's time for what was, after all, just a job, however well it paid. And now here he was rabbiting on about Death in Service benefits, the absolute last thing she wanted to think about. She took in his appearance, despite the hour he was well groomed and looked every inch the director of an accountancy firm. His black hair was slicked back in a way that she supposed he thought made him look young and viril, as opposed to the actual effect it had of making him look exactly what he was, very much on the wrong side of 50.
Waiting for a gap in his monologue, she spoke, "I really appreciate you coming over, Jackson. I do. I know you two were friends as much as colleagues. But it's been less than 24 hours and so can some of this wait? We don't even know how he died yet," her voice choking as this last bit tumbled out.
Jackson looked uncomfortable, replying, "Yes, of course. Sorry, I should have thought. It's just such a shock." He reached over and patted her hand awkwardly, a vain attempt to show his support. "Look, this seems a bit odd now but I have to ask. Did Kevin bring home his laptop on Friday? Only I'm going to need it back before tomorrow. You know what our clients are like..." he tailed off, seeing a look of disgust cross her face just before she managed to disguise it with a forced smile.
"Of course. I'll fetch it," she said, moving towards the downstairs office.
She could feel herself becoming infuriated with him, it only growing inside her as she lugged the bag back to the kitchen. Why had she imagined for even one moment that Jackson was actually going to grieve for Kevin? Everything was about money with him, always had, always would be. As she handed it over she felt an odd sense of relief at the idea that maybe, once and for all, the shadow that Jackson and his bloody firm had cast over her marriage, and therefore her life, might finally be over.
As he had anticipated the later start time that Laura had suggested hadn't afforded him any more sleep. Robbie imagined that by this point in his life his body clock was as set as it was ever likely to be and so he had to roll with it. His working hours did vary of course but he'd perfected the art of the crafty afternoon nap on a day off to compensate for lost sleep elsewhere. Besides, an early stroll through the deserted city centre never hurt and it gave him a chance to pick up the Sunday paper and further torture himself with yesterday's football results. Settling himself at his desk, he saw that several case files had arrived since he'd been in on Friday. He flicked through them confirming that they weren't in urgent need of his attention before picking up the paper and turning to the back pages. This quiet time was short-lived however as the phone rang on his desk and he was forced to answer it given he had the entire office floor to himself.
"Lewis...Right...Not sure I did, but if it's ok with you then yes, could be useful...Aye, that's great. Thanks."
Hanging up, he frowned. He hadn't remembered asking a fellow CID team to help out with providing a detailed background check on Kevin Maloney but apparently one had been requested, by the ever efficient Sergeant Hathaway most likely, he concluded. He had to do something about his bagman but what, that was the question. He was fast proving himself more than capable to lead an investigation, if only he wasn't so damned insecure about taking the next step. Robbie scratched his chin as he contemplated whether he should speak to James yet again about taking the Inspector's course, not that it had made the blindest bit of difference so far. He glanced at his watch. It was time for a date with death, chuckling as he recalled Laura's words from the previous evening. He folded his paper and tucked it under his arm as he left the office.
James was all but blocking the narrow corridor that ran alongside the varying labs and mortuaries of the pathology department. Leaning against one wall, his long legs practically touched the glass partition opposite. As Robbie approached with two cups of coffee in his hands, James appeared to be lost to his thoughts.
"A peace offering," he said to his Sergeant. James looked up, mildly confused. "I realised on my way here I forgot to tell you Laura pushed back the PM time," he clarified.
James accepted the offered cup, quietly grateful for a caffeine boost.
"She's started but we might still have a wait on our hands. Unless you're keen to get up close and personal with this one?" James said, nodding towards the door nearest them.
It was unusual for them to observe a full PM, they certainly had the right to, but they rarely did. James had always imagined it was because his bosses' faith in Dr. Hobson's skills were so unshakable that it rendered their attendance unnecessary. Robbie found his own piece of wall to lean up against and sipped his coffee.
"Thanks for requesting the background check," he started, "I'm assuming it was you as it certainly wasn't me."
James nodded in confirmation, "Just trying to anticipate your every need, Sir" he quipped, adding, "This all could be accidental or natural causes but that was a nasty kick to his back and you don't get that from living an unremarkable life as a tax accountant. His son reckoned he was pretty unexciting as father's go."
"Don't all children think that?" Robbie said knowingly, "Unable to conceive that their parents might have had a life before or beyond their role as their carers-in-chief? I'm sure Lyn and Pat think me to be the dullest of the dull." He lifted a finger in James' direction, "And none of your cheek, Sergeant. I can see the smirk even from this angle."
They continued to speculate on the nature of the dead man's injuries, agreeing various lines of enquiry that they already knew would require actioning. And when eventually the door opened and a blonde head of hair appeared and said, "You can stop cluttering up the hallway now and come in if you like," they moved as instructed.
The body of Kevin Maloney was still laid out on the slab, the evidence of various tests and examinations in the process of being cleared away. The stark contrast of the relative warmth of the corridor contrasting with the chill of the mortuary caused Robbie to shiver involuntarily.
Laura picked up on it immediately, "Should we fetch you a hot water bottle, Inspector?" she said dryly, getting only a raised eyebrow back from him in response along with the critical question, "What can you tell us, doctor?"
She outlined her conclusions. A relatively fit man in his late 40s who was clearly fond of a glass or three but nothing that had been causing his liver too many problems, although unabated it was likely that it would have done in future years. As suspected, the bruising to the arm was the result of someone grabbing him, the marks consistent with fingers being applied forcibly. His stomach contained breakfast, toast by the looks of it, and evidence of an antidepressant. But it was the gash and brushing to his back that was most of interest, Laura's initial assessment that it had been caused by a shoe or boot of some kind having proved correct. And this was the confirmed cause of death, internal bleeding of the kidney.
"Wouldn't he have been in pain?" Robbie asked.
"As the bleeding was quite slow then possibly not," she replied, "And even then he may have associated it to the injury itself. He did vomit in the few hours before he died which is a sign of bleeding but again, he could have put this down to something else, a night of heavy drinking for example. His blood alcohol level would confirm the likelihood of that being the case."
"Were the pills found in the bag the same as the ones he'd taken? James asked.
Laura nodded, "They are a mild dose though so it's probable that he'd only recently started taking them. Generally these are the ones that your GP prescribes when you first go to them with tales of low mood and anxiety."
"What about the syringe? No sign of him having injected himself?" Robbie asked.
"No, no puncture marks, but that is a bit of an odd one. The syringe contained insulin but he was not diabetic." Laura reached for notes, "And not even pre-diabetic given his blood sugar levels and general level of health and fitness."
Robbie scratched the back of his head subconsciously causing Laura to smile, waiting for the question she knew was forming in his mind. "So, you're saying it wasn't his? Are there any other uses for insulin?" he asked.
She shook her head, "It's a puzzle, Robbie," giving him a coquettish smile, "But one that I'm sure I can leave in your more than capable hands." She did so enjoy her role in setting him a challenge that he would surely rise up to meet.
Out of their eyeline, James rolled his eyes and shared a look with Anne-Marie, Laura's ever-present assistant, and she sniggered. They were both used to their bosses' back and forth, the flirting that never seemed to go anywhere. The noise caused Laura and Robbie to turn away from one another and look at her questioningly. Anne-Marie looked down, pretending to be engrossed in her work, keen not to have to explain.
James cleared his throat, saving her, "Thank you, doctor. Shall we, Sir?" he said, gesturing towards the door.
Robbie reluctantly nodded his consent, giving the slightest of smiles in Laura's direction as he followed James out of the morgue.
