Dylan lit up his cigar as he looked around the club. It was around midnight and that meant people were crowding the room, which he didn't mind as much since they were too busy drinking and smoking to bother recognising anyone.
"What happened to Vincent was tragic," Dave commented, tearing the man out of his thoughts.
Dylan said nothing as he produced something from the pocket of his jacket. It was his smartphone. "Whoever killed him left a message," he stated, scrolling through the photo gallery before finding the picture he was looking for. "They found this note in his hand."
Dave took the phone from him and examined the photo carefully.
'QUIT WHILE YOU STILL CAN'
There is no doubt in his mind that news and rumours have started leaking about him planning to withdraw his organization out of the drug business. "Any idea who this might be from?"
"Could be from anybody," the DCI said. "If your bezzie mates wanted to get rid of you, they would have done that a long time ago, so that tells me it's someone new to the game who thinks they can do whatever they like."
The older man downed his whiskey. "Be on your guard at all times."
"Yes, boss."
"How's Mia and Charlie?"
Dylan leaned against his seat, finally taking a swig of his drink. "Fine, the wife's been busy with an upcoming fashion show and Charlie, well, he broke his leg at school."
Concern flashed through Dave's eyes. "Is he alright?"
"Fine, fine, nothing serious thankfully."
The man nodded in response and the detective knew that there was still something on his mind. "Have you been in contact with Clara recently?"
He was taken by surprise by the question. "Well, she did phone Charlie while he was at the hospital."
"Did she ever mention about dating someone?"
Dylan chuckled. One thing he learned about Dave after knowing him for twenty-five years is that he's a very protective man when it comes to his daughter. "I think that's a question for Pink."
"I'm sure you're well aware that he's more loyal to Clara than he is to me, which isn't necessarily a bad thing, but for the record, I did ask him."
The detective smirked. Poor Danny Pink has been in love with Clara since the moment he met her. "What did he say?"
"He doesn't know the man and that Clara has been very discreet about him, something along those lines," Dave explained. "Which reminds me, Linda accepted my proposal."
Dylan forced a smile. "That's brilliant news," he replied calmly. "Congratulations."
Dave laughed. "No need to act, Dylan – I know you always side with Clara."
Dylan had always seen his boss as a father-figure and Clara as his surrogate sister, so it was only natural for him to side with her. Besides, he had met Linda on a number of occasions and he doesn't have any favourable views of the woman. "Alright, I admit, I'm biased."
The older man took a puff of his cigar. "I don't blame her," he sighed. Since the death of his wife, the relationship between him and his daughter was strained to say the least.
For fear of her safety, he had sent her to live with her aunt and while he regretted not showering with proper attention as a parent should, he justified that he did what was necessary to protect her from his world.
'Coleman's, Friday, at six?'
John wasn't able to stop himself from smiling as he read the message he was about to send to Clara.
'Sounds great!'
'Want me to pick you up?'
Shortly after sending the reply, the laptop in front of him chimed and he looked up from his smartphone. The report from cybersecurity was complete.
Setting the mobile device aside, he opened the email and skimmed through the document.
Apparently, their dead man was receiving calls from somewhere within Holloway.
The detective's phone then buzzed.
'If you want to'
His lips curved upwards.
"What are you smiling about, detective boy?" Donna demanded as she stuck her head into the office.
John quickly his smartphone in the pocket of his jacket. "I was just reading something online, Donna."
"How daft do you think I am?"
"I never said that."
"I never said you did, did I?"
He thought it was best to change the subject before she successfully gets information out of him. "I've just read the report from cybersecurity," he announced, loud enough for the rest of his team to hear.
"I volunteer to look through the files for anyone dealing in Holloway," Rena said.
"Adrian, you can go with her," the DCS instructed. "Dylan, you and I will be paying a visit to Vincent Mayhew's sister."
Dylan merely nodded in response as he grabbed his coat.
It was about a thirty-minute drive before they reached their destination and it was clearly a part of the city where the people there had a certain opinion about the police.
John double-checked the address on his phone before glancing at the terraced house.
"Not a very welcoming place, is it?"
The DCS said nothing as he stepped out of the vehicle and headed straight for the door with Dylan following behind him.
Just as he was about to knock, the door swung open and they were greeted by a woman who was carrying a wailing toddler in her arms. "What do you want?" she demanded. "I gave my statement days ago."
"Miss Mayhew, we'd just like to talk to you," John stated showing his identification card. "I'm DCS Smith and this is my colleague, DCI Clarkson."
"Yeah, well, I'm a little busy here, aren't I?" she snapped, trying in vain to make her daughter stop crying.
Dylan was starting to lose his patience. "It'll be quick," he said curtly.
"She's probably hungry," John commented.
Without much of a choice, Miss Mayhew sighed and stepped aside to let the detectives in.
The two men followed her down the hallway and saw the woman passing the toddler to a girl of no more than ten years old. "Feed your sister," she grunted, and the girl rushed past them to the kitchen.
They entered the living room with clothes and toys strewn everywhere on the floor. "What?" she demanded, crossing her arms. "What more do you want from me?"
"Miss Mayhew, when was the last time you saw your brother?"
"About a week ago," she answered. "We rarely see each other since he's so busy, or so he claims."
While the DCI was questioning the victim's brother, John decided to have a look around the room. No point questioning her since she knows nothing useful.
He then caught sight of the little girl from earlier spying on them from the hallway. "Hi," he murmured, flashing a kind smile. "I'm John, what's your name?"
The child hesitated at first. "Um… Sam."
"Sam, that's a nice name."
Finally, the girl smiled. "Thank you, John."
"Sam, take your sister upstairs," her mother instructed, frightening the child.
John looked over his shoulder. "It's fine, we're just having a chat," he said before focusing his attention back to Sam.
"What happened to Uncle Vince?"
He paused for a second to choose his words carefully. "Your uncle is, well, will be away for a while."
"Mummy said the same thing, she said he won't visit us anymore."
"I'm sorry, Sam."
"Is it because of Davros?"
The detective knitted his eyebrows. "How did you know that name?"
"Sam, upstairs. Now."
"Miss Mayhew," Dylan said, extending an arm to prevent her from moving. "I believe you have some explaining to do."
"Uncle Vince said Davros kept bothering him."
John patted the girl. "Thank you, Sam, you've been very helpful," he murmured, smiling as he watched the girl beam and then run back into the kitchen.
"So, Davros?" Dylan began, eyeing Miss Mayhew who sighed in defeat before sitting in an empty chair.
"I swear to you that's all I know," she explained. "Vince said he kept receiving calls from someone who works for Davros… wanted him to work for him instead."
"Who was he working for before this?" John asked.
She shook her head. "I don't know, he never tells me anything until this man started bothering him."
"Did he say anything else?"
Miss Mayhew shook her head again, fighting back the tears. "Just said he wanted to lay low for a while."
John and Dylan exchanged looks. Things were slowly progressing.
"You ok?"
The voice tore him out of his thoughts and he immediately made eye contact with the woman sitting in front of him. "Sorry, won't happen again," he said, flashing her a shy smile.
"You sure?" Clara inquired.
"Yeah, it's just work," he confessed, realising that he must have made the impression he was bored. "Not that I'm not enjoying the moment, but sorry, it just keeps floating in my head."
The schoolteacher relaxed a bit. "Do you want to talk about it?"
John shook his head. "No, no, we're meant to be spending time together, not talk about… well, police work."
He racked his brain to think of something. A topic that will change the subject. "The food is nice."
Clara chuckled. "Glad to know you like it."
The moment dinner was over, he couldn't stop thinking about what he needed to do the moment they arrive at her flat. It's just a kiss so there was no need to be nervous.
After driving for some time, they finally reached their destination and miraculously enough, there was an empty spot close to the flat for him to park the car.
John cleared his throat and killed the engine. "We're here," he announced, realising that Clara was staring at him. "What?"
"You look like a nervous wreck," she teased.
He ran a hand through his hair. "it's the hair," he lied miserably. "It starts getting a… mind of its own if I let it grow."
She raised an eyebrow. "I like your hair like that," she complimented. "Not too long and not to short – just the right amount of floof."
"Floof?!"
The schoolteacher laughed stepping out of the car and he mimicked her move before going over to the other side.
"Thank you for a lovely night."
"Thank you for exactly the same."
That was definitely his cue and so he leaned forward, hoping he read it right and when she moved towards him, he shut his eyes and gave her a kiss on the lips.
"You know, for a second there, I thought you were going to kiss me on the cheek again," she joked once they had parted, feeling her lips tingle.
"I'm not that big of an idiot," he replied, grinning before reluctantly stepping aside to let her through.
Clara walked to the lobby of the building with a smile on her face and just as she was about to enter, she turned around. "I'll text you, yeah?"
He nodded and just as he was about to enter his car, she turned around once more.
"Good night, John."
"Good night, Clara."
The smile on her face grew bigger. She absolutely loves the way her name rolls on his tongue.