Part 12
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Donna had expected him to drive off to another part of London. What she got was him turning the car around and then parking close to the showroom, on the other side of the street. "What happens now?" she wondered. "Do we wait a while and break in? Go hack into the computer or something?"
"That's one way to get a criminal record," John noted. "Normally, I'd suggest we come back another time and ask around, since someone has bound to notice something strange. Like no cars, no clients, no customer reviews, or something like that. But I'm not going to do that. Yet."
"Then what are we going to do?" she demanded to know.
He leaned close to reveal, "While we're here, we need to establish where Lance is living, for his brother' sake. You watch the front and I'll nip round the back. Follow him, if you can, and find out where he lives. I'll catch up with you later, if need be."
"I can do that," she confidently assured him. "But what about the insurance? I'm not a named driver on your car insurance."
"Donna," he sighed, "you have my permission to drive this car, so you are covered."
"For only fire and theft though," she reasoned.
"That'll be enough for our purposes. Look, you can organise all that later," he grumbled, keen to get out of the car. "Just keep an eye on him."
"Right you are," she cheerily responded, and kept her eyes firmly on the shop door to watch where Lance went once his day was done.
John was confident Donna could cope with keeping a careful distance from Lance, but his hunch was the man would leave via the rear of the showroom.
From his jacket pocket he brought out a black knitted ski mask, pulled it over his face and headed into the alleyway that backed on to the set of shops where the showroom was. Moments later, Lance appeared from the backdoor to the showroom.
Having locked it, he turned to run up the external stone staircase that led to the dwellings above the shops. Several flats or maisonettes, by the look of it, John calculated. He waited in the shadows until Lance had entered a residence before following, creeping up the same staircase.
It soon brought him to the same entrance, so he mentally noted the door number where Lance now lived and cast his gaze about to check whether he had been observed or not. The coast was clear, so he leaned out from the top step to peer in through the window. Luckily, there was a gap in the curtains that allowed him to see Lance within, and the person inside who greeted him. But what he heard shocked him.
"Hello Lance. You're late," an authoritative female tone greeted him.
"Hello. Sorry Mistress," Lance docilely answered them. "There were last minute customers to deal with. Now that I'm here, how can I serve you?"
"You know what to do," the cool voice declared.
"Right away, Mistress," Lance accepted, and slunk out of sight.
Outside the window, John's thoughts raced through his mind. Oh. That explained a lot. Lance was enjoying a relationship with a dominatrix. No wonder he was reluctant to tell his strictly religious family where he was or what he was doing. Perhaps he was not allowed to contact his family without express permission? Could be.
Shop doorways have a very limited appeal; especially when the shop itself is shut, so Donna was beginning to feel bored. Keep looking, she told herself. You never know when Lance might appear. But he kept on not appearing. Bugger!
She was more than relieved when John eventually appeared and signalled his return to the car. "Well?" she immediately asked as he placed himself on the driver's seat.
"I erm…," he cagily answered. "I know exactly where he lives."
"And?" she encouraged him to continue. "What does he do there?"
Waiting until they were pulling away in the car, he replied, "I'm not sure I should tell you."
"If you don't, you'll be eating hospital food through a straw tomorrow," she threatened.
"Alright, I'll tell you," he huffed as he drove out of the road. "Did he tend to like you dominating him when you were together?"
"Not particularly." She shrugged. "Just the normal arrogant bloke stuff."
"Then that explains what was missing from your relationship. He's into being dominated, in a big way. In fact, he's a personal slave and apparently loving it, from what I could see."
She gulped in surprise. "So, he liked my bossiness? Weird. I much prefer more of an equal relationship, so it'd never have lasted."
"According to the electoral roll, the name of the woman he lives with is the same as the one featured on the brochures we picked up from Racnosa. I'd guess that he was told to give up his previous job and work for her. Seems happy about it though."
"He can keep it," she said. "Oh well, it takes all sorts to make a world. Just didn't have him pegged as being like that."
John gave a warning cough. "Perhaps you shouldn't have used the word 'pegged'."
"Why?" she inevitably asked and then immediately gasped in realisation. "You think Lance likes…?" She blew out her cheeks in surprise. "Blimey."
"And on that note, I think we'll change the subject before we get home," he suggested. "I have a report to write up, and I don't know about you, but I could do with a drink."
No sooner had they stepped into John's kitchen when his phone rang. "Hello, Will," he greeted his friend. "It's a bit late for you. Normally you're trying to wake me up."
"I didn't see you online earlier, so I assume you've been out on a job," Will replied. "Anyway, I thought you'd want to know that you are back on Twitter."
"On Twitter? Doing what?" John wondered. He gestured at Donna to look at her phone.
"Kissing another poor woman again," Will teased. "Who is she?"
"We're on Twitter again," John mouthed at Donna being returning his attention to Will. "It's the same woman as before."
"Found it!" Donna cried out as the image appeared.
"Is that her? Is she there?" Will wanted to know; and whooped with joy.
"Yes, she's here," John reluctantly confirmed.
"Hang on. I have to see her. I'm ringing off and will video call you," Will decided.
Seconds later a familiar musical blooping sound could be heard, and John swiped his finger to answer the call. "Hello again, Will."
Will waved his hand angrily about. "I don't want to see your ugly mug. Where is she? Show me her."
Wondering why he was obliging; John turned his phone for Will to see.
"Hello!" Donna cheerily waved at Will. "I'm Donna, since he didn't say. Official visiting fiancée type figure. The victim in the photos."
"You don't look particularly upset about it," Will laughed. "Hello Donna. What do you think of our John, accosting you with kisses in public?"
"I'm getting used to it," she replied, causing him to laugh again. "These Twitter pics are a bit suggestive, aren't they? We only said hello to each other."
"Did you?" Will frowned. He didn't believe that for a second, but he wanted to hear all about it. "John never says hello to me like that."
The man himself appeared in shot close to Donna to reply. "Play your cards right next time and we'll see," he joked. "We have paperwork to get done so we'll say good night to you."
"Is that what they're calling it these days?" Will continued to tease his friend.
Not wanting to endure anymore, John and Donna called out, "Bye Will!" and ended the call.
She's going to berate me for that, John thought, and cringed, waiting for the accusations to start, but she did something else entirely.
"You know," she idly pondered, tapping her fingernail on the image of a loving couple on her phone, "if we're going to carry on using this pretend engagement to solve cases, I'd better nip down to Argos tomorrow lunchtime and get a cheapo ring to wear."
"Yeah, you could," he hoarsely agreed. "Keep the receipt for expenses. Hmm. Yes, that could work."
"What's going on in that big ol' brain of yours?" she asked as various emotions flitted across his face. "Should I be worried?"
Deliberately staying close, he smiled warmly. "You finish at Daniel's this Friday, don't you?" he considered. "I was going to ask you to start on the office stuff next week but why don't you join me up in Scotland on the photoshoot instead? We're using Eilean Donan Castle as the location." You can help keep me warm, he didn't add on.
Tempted as she was, it brought up more than one question. Like: would they even accept me? "Wouldn't it be awkward? I mean, getting a room and that. They won't be expecting me."
"We can share." He then added, "Don't look so shocked. They all think we're engaged, so you can come as my fiancée or assistant."
Shaking her head, she murmured, "Nah!" When he looked crestfallen, she continued, "I like the sound of partner more."
"Then partner it is!" he cried, overjoyed with the way this new relationship was going. "Let's have something to celebrate with."
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The End... sort of
A/N: okay, this tale feels unfinished, and I'm sorely tempted to write a sequel sometime in the future.