Chapter 6

He was making a quick round through the building, hoping to be seen by as many people as possible so he could leave early. That way if anyone came looking for him there would be plenty of people who could say "I just say him."

He was surprised when he saw her walking toward him. He hadn't seen much of her lately, too few murders, which in the grand scheme of things was probably a good thing. But it did mean he didn't see her as regularly. He realized he missed her.

With a sarcastic smile he teased her, "What are you doing here, nobody's died?"

She smiled, drawing nearer, "I know, you'll be missing your targets." He couldn't help but laugh at her joke. His eyes were draw down to the enticing gap in her blouse as she stepped closer. It was slightly closer than normal and she was smiling up at him. It was a bit of a struggle to keep his eyes off that intriguing gap.

She leaned closer still, "No, this is a social call. I'm having a party." She paused looking around, "It's a special sort of birthday." At his quizzical look she explained, "Think of a number, then forget about it immediately."

He smiled teasingly and whispered, "Thank you." In the back of his mind, he realized Val had been right. She was closer to his age. Perhaps still a bit too young but not out of the realm of possibility.

Her touch on his forearm pulled him back into the conversation. It was only a quick touch but he felt a lingering tingle up the length of his arm. She stepped away from him, "Oh, uh, if you'd like to bring anybody."

His gaze dropped, momentarily, lingering on the skin revealed in the gap of her shirt. He was embarrassed to say he didn't have anyone, "I haven't really got anybody."

Teasingly, she smiled at him, "You could always bring the dishy Sergeant Hathaway." Casting a small glance up and down the length of him, she turned and walked away.

Turning to walk away, all he could think about was that damned word again. Why did all of the women in his life keep calling Hathaway dishy?

He'd managed to escape early. After Laura's comment about Hathaway he had no desire to have drinks with the boy. He'd mentioned the party to James, strong-armed him into going with him. Then he'd left for the day.

In honesty, he'd left early almost every day in the past few weeks. And each of those days, Val was waiting for him. She'd been teaching him to cook basic things, just enough for two. They chatted, talked about his day, it felt like when she was still alive.

His anger had dissipated replaced by an increasing sense of loneliness. Yet he couldn't find it in him to go out, try to find someone new. His fear was, if he did, Val would disappear. He wasn't sure he was ready to lose her again.

"You're home early, my love."

Dropping his things into the bowl, "Low crime has its benefits."

"Did you have a good day?"

He pulled on his tie, "I did. I'm famished, what are you teaching me to cook tonight."

"No lessons tonight, there's plenty left from last night. You can heat that up and then we can watch the match."

"You're volunteering to watch football?"

"Heat your dinner." She watched him as he moved about the kitchen. Once she was certain he was engrossed in what he was doing, she moved behind him. Pushing up on her toes, she whispered, "When were you going to tell me I won the bet?

He watched her blow out the candles, her eyes closed. Her smile was luminous as she looked around at all of the people I attendance. Her eyes caught his and the smiled blossomed a bit more brilliantly. Her friends carrying the cake pulled away and he seized the moment.

"Happy Birthday." He leaned in to kiss her check, inhaling her perfume. He was surprised when her lips pressed into her cheek. They were warm, soft. The others in the room seemed to disappear in that moment.

She pulled away first, looking up at him. "Thanks, Robbie. I didn't think you'd turn up. Are you having a nice time?"

He nodded, in this moment, he was having a very good time. "Yeah, considering…"

Smirking at him, "Considering?"

Afraid he'd upset her, he decided to be honest, "Well I'm out of practice with parties and such. And it's louder than expected."

"Well they were all medical students once upon a time." Raising her glass, she smiled, "A couple of glasses of this stuff and they revert." Pausing for a moment, "Hey do you play cards?"

Unsure at her question, "A bit of cribbage with me granddad years ago." She made a face, and he found himself explaining, "But just for matches."

Laughing, she pointed in the direction of one of the other rooms, "Some of the guys are organizing a late night poker session." He looked away and she added, "Probably not for matches."

He laughed at her mirth and excitement, thinking how lovely she was. "Not my scene." He wondered what it would be like to have her all to himself.

"Where's James?"

He shook his head, "I have no idea."

They stared at one another drinking deeply from their champagne flutes. She gave him an odd look then switched hands. Before he knew what was happening she was caressing his face. Her hand cupped his cheek. His eyes widened, surprised at the intimacy of the touch.

As her thumb stroked his cheek, he knew she was wiping away the traces of her lipstick. Still there was a shock of sensation pulsing from where she was touching him. This was possibly the least intimate thing she could have done and yet he hadn't felt this connected with another person since Val's death.

Their eyes met as she stopped stroking his skin. She pulled her hand away, smiling at him. He wanted to say something but was unsure of quite what to say.

"Laura, it's time for cake."

She smiled sadly, tilting her head toward the sound. He nodded his understanding, "Go on, it's your party."

She stepped away from him, "Don't leave without saying goodbye, OK?"

"Sure." He watched her walk away his cheek was still warm from her touch.

He was brushing his teeth when she appeared in the mirror behind him. He almost choked on the toothbrush. "Must you sneak up on me like that?"

"Well, if I could, I would be happy to make noise." Seeing his exasperated expression in the mirror, "You know I will be around, one would think you would expect me."

Turning to smile down at her, "You could just greet me at the door."

She nodded, "Duly noted. How was your party?"

"It wasn't my party; I was just attending."

"At least the good doctor doesn't leave lipstick all over you like she's marking her territory." He smiled to himself remembering her touch and how much he'd enjoyed it. "Did you get her a nice present?"

"A present?"

"Tell me you didn't go empty handed? You at least took a bottle of champagne, something."

"No, she didn't seem to want to acknowledge the number so I thought a gift would be foolish."

"She threw a party, she wanted to celebrate, if not the number at least the occasion."

Walking past her, "Well I can't very well do anything about it now."

"You need to get her something."

"I don't know what to get her. I was married to you for years and I barely knew what to get you."

"What does she like?"

"Dead people?" At her look, he shrugged, "She had a nice garden. I could get her something to plant."

"No, get her an indoor plant. Something she can keep in her office. Something to remind her of the living and of you."

A case had finally come along, terrible as it was. But, at least, it was an excuse to see her. She'd agreed to meet for a walk so he could pick her brain. He handed her the sketch, "He drew that in about 60 seconds. And it was as if he didn't need to look at me, just one glance."

She held the sketch, looking up at him. "Well I'm not a psychoanalyst."

"I wasn't going to quote you in evidence. I just wanted a friendly opinion." They smiled at one another, "Could the lad be…I don't know, autistic? Is that the word? I mean, I only know what I've seen on TV documentaries that I wasn't watching properly."

She drew in a deep breath, "The trouble is, all these words are dangerous…autism, dyslexia, bipolarity, schizophrenia. We throw people into those boxes, and we kid ourselves that we've explained everything and solved the problem. And we've done neither."

"Am I allowed to say he's a bit weird?" She snorted at him, "Or do I have to say, uh…differently normal?"

They stopped walking, turning to face one another. Shrugging she smiled up at him, "Well, you can say anything you like to me."

He nodded, wondering if there was a secondary meaning to her words. "That's something these days."

Their eyes met, held. She was the first to turn away, start walking again. "Listen, the boy's obviously got exceptional skills. He can see things and reproduce them on paper with no apparent effort. And you could argue that all artists are abnormal in that respect. The same way a musician can listen to an entire symphony orchestra and hear the one instrument that plays a wrong note."

"He reckons he's no good at ideas."

"That may well be true. He may have trouble making connections. Joining the dots to make sense of his world. Or it's possible that all of his life, people have told him he's no good at ideas, and he's ended up believing them."

"And would he be capable of murder?"

"Ugh, I don't know." She sighed, looking for the right words. "It's…unlikely except…"

Robbie stopped, let her turn to him, "What?"

"He might…he might if someone told him to do it."

Her thoughts gave him pause. He wondered if the boy had been manipulated by someone.

"Did you enjoy my party?"

"The champagne was good."

"I guess that's something."

"I'm not much of a party person, never was really. If I'd known it was your birthday, I would have offered to take you to dinner."

"You still can. I believe anything within a week of the actual event is acceptable."

He nodded, "Deal. As soon as I close this case, dinner."

"It's a date."

He was tying his tie for the third time, ignoring her steady gaze. "Did you get her a present?"

"I did. Took your recommendation and got her a plant. The lady in the shop said it won't require much care so it's perfect for the office."

Smiling to herself, pleased he had both taken her advice and asked the doctor on a date. "What kind of plant?"

"An Easter cactus. The lady said it blooms in the spring."

"You bought her a cactus?"

Pulling on his jacket, "It's a flowering cactus."

"And you aren't worried about the message a cactus might send."

"Message?"

"That you think she's prickly, difficult to touch…"

"Or easy to have around and beautiful when she blooms."

"I guess I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Can I go now?"

She smiled, "Have fun."

They walked along the river, dinner had been an enjoyable affair. He wasn't quite sure she thought of this as a date. She'd insisted upon meeting him at the restaurant rather than having him pick her up.

He hadn't brought the plant into the restaurant. Thought it would look odd. Plus, Val's words about the meaning of the gift had gained purchase in the back of his mind. Perhaps he'd picked the wrong thing. Perhaps she would see it the same way Val had, women often thought the same.

"Robbie, are you ok?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "It's just…I have a present for you. Should have brought something to your party."

She shook her head, "You didn't have to. Coming to my party was enough."

"No, it's not right. Certain birthdays should be acknowledged."

She smiled, "So you have a present?" He nodded, "Where is it?"

"Still in my car."

"And have you changed your mind?"

Meeting her eyes, "Not about giving you a gift, just about the gift."

"Do I get a say in the matter?"

"Are you sure?"

Linking her arm into his, she tugged lightly, leading him to the carpark. As they made it to his car, he pressed the button to unlock the door. He opened the door and removed the plant. Sheepishly, he turned back to her and held it out.

"It's an Easter cactus. I thought it might be nice in your office. It doesn't require much care which I thought would be good for your schedule." He pulled it back, shaking his head, "I should have just gotten you something to put in your garden, or a book, something else."

Gently she pulled the plant from his hands, "Can I tell you a secret?" He met her eyes, nodding. "I can't grow anything."

"I've seen your garden."

She nodded, "I have a man, he comes weekly, keeps it all in order. Left to me it would all be dead." Holding up the plant, "This I might be able to keep alive. At least, I'm going to try."