Chapter 12

Everyone was laughing, drinks were flowing. For a work function, it was a rather enjoyable experience. Something he'd found himself doing more of lately, enjoying himself. Since James found the man responsible for Val's death, he seemed to be lighter, laughed more.

Even the idea of a dinner with work colleagues, Innocent included, hadn't quelled his joy. He licked his fingers, caught Laura looking at him, an amused and mischievous grin lighting her face. "What?"

Looking down at the bread, "I see you're on a pull tonight."

"Every man has his weakness."

Smirking she recited a list of better weakness, "Yeah, fast cars, single malts, nurses with starched white cotton but garlic bread?"

Looking over at James, he returned her teasing banter, "And she calls herself a woman of the world."

Their eyes met, held for a moment. She really was rather lovely in this light. No, she really was lovely, full stop. A jolt of something he couldn't quite place, electrified his body. It was suddenly a lot warmer in the room.

Innocent tapping her glass, ended the moment. She yammered on about a promotion someone was getting. Robbie was only half listening, thinking about the moment with Laura. It wasn't until Innocent said, "Inspector Fiona McKendrick" that he was able to push the thoughts away.

They were staring at the painting, the same one from the postcard in Steven Mullan's flat. James was bored, certain it was a waste of time. Robbie couldn't look away from the painting, pointing out different aspects.

They bickered, good naturedly about the painting. "Don't pretend you didn't get that out of the book." James snickered, not ashamed to have been caught out. "Anyway, there has to be more to it than that."

An attractive older woman, close to Robbie's own age, approached them, listening to their banter. "There is. You're quite right." Ignoring James, she turned to Robbie. "In Renaissance terms, the hunt was a courtly metaphor for the pursuit of love. The hunter, the male rampant. The hind, or deer, the defenseless female. But in the game of desire, the chase is so much more uncertain. Is the deer fleeing for her life, or leading her lover away, deeper into danger? The hunter doesn't know. That's the point. But he can't stop himself, He's swept on into the forest to some point of pleasure out there in the darkness." She raised her hands, shaking her head. "Sorry. Forgive me. I…"

Robbie smiled, pointing at the painting. "No, no. Not at all."

"It's our most treasured canvas." Looking over her shoulder to James, "By members of the public, not just old show-offs like myself. "

James snickered, not just from her words but from her behavior toward Robbie and his response to it.

Holding out the post card, Robbie pointed to the writing on the back of it. "Does this mean anything to you?"

She took the car, reading out loud, "'It was no dream.' Thomas Wyatt."

Robbie looked over her head to James, "Right, who is?"

"'They Flee From Me That Sometime Did Seek Me.' And regretfully, I must do the same." She handed the card back to Robbie, then took a few steps away. Turning back to them, she smiled. "You'll find all you need in our shop."

James nodded, "Thank you."

"Frances Wheeler."

He'd looked down at the display on his phone, surprised to see Laura's name. "Hello, have you called to give me all the answers of this case."

Her laughter softly caressed him, "No, not today. I am, however, calling to apologize and offer to take a walk. Get you away from the flames."

"Ten minutes?"

"I'll meet you out front."

She was waiting when he walked outside. It was odd to see her not in scrubs or a scene suit. "You're a little over dressed for a crime scene or an autopsy."

"I'm in court later today." They fell into step, "Have you figure it all out yet?"

"Not even close. Took a bit of a bollocking."

"Innocent on cracking form, I gather."

"Poor Soul. She's been pining ever since her precious Fiona made rank."

Laura smiled up at him, "The young protégé." Tapping his shoulder lightly, "You used to be one of those."

"Not in that way I wasn't."

They stared at each other, a light smile playing at the edges of her pretty mouth. Walking for a few seconds, she'd asked him a question he didn't expect. "Attractive, McKendrick?"

"Who am I to judge?"

"Ah, come on. Marks out of ten. A crudely biological eight? A traffic-stopping nine?"

Unsure where her question was coming from, "What is this?"

She looked away, "The illegal trade in hunch and hearsay. It's called gossip."

Shrugging, "I'd give her a seven."

Her nose crinkled up as she looked at him incredulously, "Would you? Seven?"

"Objectively speaking, fair enough." He paused for a moment, looking down at her, "Not my type at all. Why do you ask?"

"Well the other night, when our leader announced McKendrick's promotion your long-faced sergeant…"

"He's always long-faced."

"An equine nine?"

He wasn't sure but he didn't like her rating James quite so high. "He's a free man, not a number. Anyway, Hathaway has his reasons. He sees his contemporaries rising through the ranks, and thinks 'Why not me'"

She laughed, he could hear the teasing in it. "When we came to say good-bye, do you remember? You and McKendrick air-kissing like a couple of tarts in an operetta? Garlic bread notwithstanding?"

He rolled his eyes, "I was just being polite, as I would with any seven."

"Yeah, but what did Hathaway do? Hug? Kiss? Mexican wave?"

He shook his head, still not understanding the point, "I don't know I…"

"Nothing. That's what. Two colleagues worked together for years. Absolutely no bodily contact. Now why would that be Detective?"

Looking down at her, her arm brushing against his, "He'd have told me. Wouldn't he?"

"Yes, because he's such a forthcoming guy in general."

"Hathaway and Fiona?" He shook his head, "Maybe they aren't a couple, maybe he just likes her?"

"Are you bothered that they might be a couple or that you didn't know?"

"I'm not bothered. Unconvinced, surprised maybe." They continued walking and somewhere in the back of his mind another emotion pushed forward, jealousy.

They walked away from the car, Robbie clicking the button to lock it. As they fell into step, side by side, Robbie finally asked. "How long? You and her?"

"Me and who?"

"Fiona. Oh, for pity's sake, man. How long have you fancied Fiona McKendrick?"

"Call a spade a shovel, why don't you?"

Laura was right, it was a relationship, not just an infatuation. "What, you two…?"

"For a while. Well, we were even trying to work out how on earth I was going to break up with you, sir." James smiled at Robbie, "You know what she's like…fast track and all of that. Office romance doesn't look too hot on the C.V., does it? So she went her way, and I got lumped with you."

He watched the younger woman, amazed at her poise as her fiancé had another tantrum. He smiled as she walked toward them. "Sorry to go on." Pointing toward the departing figure of her fiancé, "But is there really nothing you're not telling me? You and that art professor?"

"Oh, give me some credit, will you?"

"Daniel seems to have doubts."

She shook her head, "I wouldn't read too much into that. Just nerves, I guess. Big night."

Robbie nodded, looking around at all of the security men around. "I suppose these are here on your account?"

"Dad's, mostly. Ex-marines."

James interrupted, "Your father's here?"

"Private chopper from London. He should be here before nightfall for the big announcement. Introduce you, if you like. Maybe dad can persuade you to come work for us."

She walked away as Robbie chuckled. James stepped closer, "She's trying to tap you up."

"She made some passing remark. Just being kind. I was quite flattered, to be honest. You reach a point in life, you've got to conclude that basically you're invisible to beautiful women."

James nodded, "I know that feeling." They walked, "You're not though, sir." At Robbie's laugh, "Francis Wheeler, the docent from the museum."

"She was just doing her job."

"Dr. Hobson."

"We're just friends."

"You said you were invisible to beautiful women. Those are two very beautiful women and neither of them think you're invisible, sir."

They walked along discussing the last details of the case. James turned to head to the pub. Robbie stopped him, "No, here. This way."

"I thought we were going for a beer."

"Not yet. Got a little job for you first."

Falling into step beside Robbie, James groaned. "Oh, no, what are you up to?"

"What was that story Jessica Rattenbury told you? About the restorative justice program? Sitting in a car outside the prison her mum said, 'Go through that door, look the man in the eye. Otherwise, he'll be stuck in your head forevermore.'" James stopped walking, Robbie turned to him. "Look, I know your pride's taken a beating. But don't do what ifs. Go in there. Say goodbye properly."

"Inspector McKendrick left last night."

Robbie looked over to the dark flat, just as a light went on inside. Relief flooded through him, "Apparently not."

James sighed, "No, I can't."

"Of course you can, go on. Lay the ghost to rest." Pulling his wallet from his pocket, "Either that, or we feed you to Battleship Potempka. 80 quid, full body massage." Holding the money out to James, "Your call."

James snatched the money from his hand, shuffled through it. He kept some then handed the rest back to Robbie. "I'll have a pint." He smiled at Robbie then walked to Fiona's door.

Robbie watched for a few minutes longer, proud the lad had taken the chance. Turning away, he walked home.

The door creaked as he opened it, a smile cracking his face as he walked through the door. "Did you get your man?"

He nodded, pulling at his tie. "We did. I even played cupid."

"Cupid?"

He grabbed an apple from the bowl on the counter and took a bite. "The dishy sergeant has been involved in a relationship with a colleague."

"Really? And you discovered this how?"

"I didn't. Dr. Hobson noticed and told me."

"You can call her Laura. It doesn't bother me."

He nodded, smiling, "Laura told me."

"And how does that equate to you playing cupid?"

"She's been promoted. Leaves in the morning for London. He was just going to let her go, not say goodbye. I made him go see her."

"And?"

"They were kissing when I left. I think he'll be OK."

"And you, are you OK?"

He took a deep breath, "It's odd. I've sort of grown accustomed to be being invisible. To having women not notice me." He paused, not sure what to say next.

"But women have noticed you."

"So says Hathaway."

"Anyone I know?"

"According to James, a docent from the museum." He smiled, "And Laura."

"So, why are you here?"

Throwing away the apple, "I live here."

"I bet she's still at work."

He nodded, "Probably, but I'm at home. And you're here."

"Go play with the live girl, Robbie."

He was leaning against her car, debating going into the building. He'd decided this was a mistake when he heard his name. "Robbie."

"Hi."

"What are you doing here?"

He shrugged, "Waiting for you." At her quizzical look, he smiled. "You were right about Hathaway and Fiona. I dropped him at her place earlier. Then I went home."

"So how did you end up here?"

"Because I wanted to tell someone. And I realized you were the only person I really had to tell." He shook his head, "So the next thing I knew I was in my car, headed here."

"You do owe me a meal."

"Two, actually." He smiled, rubbing at his left eye, "Care to collect on one? I'll share in the illegal trade of hunch and hearsay."

"Gossip and food?" Smiling, she nodded lightly, "Yeah, I'd like that.

No chapter tomorrow. Life...