Chapter 13

He jabbed the too large knife into the plastic sealing the frozen meal. A mindless, repetitive motion devoid of any emotion except perhaps melancholy. Opening the microwave, he shoved the meal in, turned the dial and waited.

Picking up the box, he read the back. For some reason, he missed Val. He'd woken thinking of her, a dream he couldn't quite recall. She hadn't been around in a few days he was beginning to wonder if she was gone. He wasn't ready and she'd promised to stay until he didn't need her any longer.

Sundays had always been a family day. Val would always cook a traditional meal and they would eat as a family. She had rarely drawn a line in the sand but Sunday dinners were one of her lines. He'd had more than one fight with Morse about running home to eat. They'd stopped when Val had suggested Morse join them.

He'd been certain Morse would balk at the idea. But more often than not, he would accompany Robbie. Not many people had known, Morse hadn't told anyone nor had Robbie. But the curmudgeonly Morse turned into quite the charmer around Val. She would even occasionally flirt back. It was hard to imagine he could miss those moments but, right now, with a frozen meal in the microwave, he missed them more than ever.

The microwave dinged and he pulled his sad meal from it. When his mobile rang, he was desperately grateful. He suspected this meal would have tasted like sadness. Dropping it into the bin, he picked up his mobile.

"It's Sunday."

"Sorry, sir, do I find you at prayer?"

"I'm not stirring on a Sunday for anything less than murder."

"Well, I've got a vicar who's a bit cross. Will that do?"

"Tell you what, sergeant, I'll stir for a cross vicar but you have to join me for a roast dinner at a pub."

"I can accept those terms."

The vicar was detailing all of the complaints he filed against his neighbor's. Robbie was beginning to get a headache and not just from hunger.

"…Just because the man's a ruddy pop star…"

"Have you actually spoken to Mr. MacKay about this?"

"Maguire. Richie Maguire." Robbie was lost, a name from his past. "No, can't get anywhere near the wretched man. That's why I called you."

He somehow fumbled through the remainder of the conversation with the vicar then joined James outside. He found James sitting on the fence, smoking. "Bow down before the Midnight Addiction."

James threw down the cigarette, "Absolutely. Well, I use the word absolutely in a purely private sense, meaning I have no idea what you're talking about."

Robbie looked at him, "Airplane. The Dead. The Addiction. Same breath." James shrugged, "The iconography of my youth. Richie, Esme, Franco, Mack."

"You're talking in tongues, sir."

Looking back at James as they walked, "Members of the band. They were stars, huge stars. I can't believe you." Another glance at James' smirk, "You're taking a mickey, aren't you?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I knew that."

James continued to smile as they walked to the car. He'd seen Robbie's album collection knew what a fan he was. It was the reason he'd called him out on a Sunday for something he well could have handled himself.

They walked out of the house, Robbie enlightening James of the band back in the day. "They were huge. Everything about them was huge. Concerts went on for hours. Richie on the drums and vocals, harmonizing with Esme. Little brother Mack on the bass. They fought like hell on stage. Real fisticuffs sometimes. Then Mack went off his rocker. Brain fried with acid. Esme flew off to Grenada and drowned herself. Never did find her body. Now we know why. But she left this terrible letter apologizing for everything, begging Richie to forgive her."

"They were lovers?"

He looked back at James, shrugging, "Who knows? Kept us guessing. There was certainly a fantastic chemistry between the two of them on stage. Mind you, she was pretty fantastic chemistry all on her own. Especially in a top hat."

James fought a smile, "We could nick the lot of them, you know. Pigeon may be vermin, 'man,' but Richie's still disturbing the peace. There was a shotgun in an umbrella stand, which does not constitute locked and fixed steel cabinet. Recreational drugs everywhere."

Nodding toward the house, a disbelieving tone in his voice, "Why would I want to nick them?"

"Give you an excuse to come back. Someone's got to look after your social life, sir."

Robbie scowled at him as he answered his mobile. As he disconnected the call, "My social life will have to wait. We actually have a body now."

"Don't think this is getting you out of the roast dinner, sir."

Laura met them next to the body, "It's not the prettiest corpse." Kneeling down, she flipped back the tarp covering the body. James flinched, looked away. "Young man, Caucasian, 15 or 16. Just about every bone in his body smashed."

"Where was he killed?"

James forced himself to look down at the corpse, "Not here."

"No, look at his neck."

"Tire marks."

"On the body, not on the ground around it."

Taking a deep breath, Robbie walked away, leaving James and Laura with the body. She called after him, "Where are you going?"

Without sparing a glance back, "Home, Hathaway can sort SOCO."

Laura looked back at James, concern etched on her face. "Is he OK?"

James shrugged, "He has been of late. But, today, he's been a bit off."

"Any idea why?"

"None. I thought meeting one of his favorite bands would cheer him up. It did. I don't know what this is about."

Laura raised her eyebrows, "Let me know if you figure it out."

He sat in the floor, a glass of whisky beside him, letting the music wash over him. All of the albums were scattered around him. The song ended, the scratching of the needle replaced the music. He hadn't listened to these songs since Val had died. There was a good reason for it.

"I remember seeing you for the first time."

He looked around, surprised and happy to see her. A sad smile tugged at the edges of his lips, "I remember seeing you too. You took my breath away. But then you always did."

He reached for the glass but she covered it with her hand. "It won't help."

"What can it hurt?"

"I'm right here. Talk to me rather than drinking that."

"Where have you been?"

"I checked in on Lyn and Patrick. You were doing better. Thought you might like a break from me."

He closed his eyes, "I was and then I wasn't. Why is it this hard?"

"It's a process. Two steps forward, one step back. What caused this setback?"

"I had a dream about you."

"What was it about?"

He shook his head, "I don't know. It faded the moment I woke. And it made me think about how so many memories are fading. And then I realized it was Sunday and I thought about the dinners we used to have. And from there it all sort of spiraled."

"But you met the band."

He laughed, "Yeah. But even that reminded me of you."

"I could never hold a candle to Esme in a top hat."

"No, love, she could never hold a candle to you."

She smiled, secretly pleased, even if she didn't really believe him. "Why didn't you take James out for a meal?"

He closed his eyes, let his head fall back. "I saw that poor boy's body and thought of Patrick at the same age and I knew I wasn't fit to be around anyone."

"I could go."

His head jolted upright, eyes flew open. "No." At her smile, "Seems everyone is having fun at my expense today."

"You do know James called you because he knew you loved them, right?"

"What?"

"He's seen your collection, he knew. He could have handled that call on his own. He wanted you to meet them."

Shaking his head, "My dream seems to have affected me more than I thought. I missed all sorts of things today."

"Why don't you put some other music on and I will tell you all about Lyn and Patrick? That way you won't miss out on anything else."

He leaned over her, anxious for her to speed up the process. Nerves rolling through him, he moved closer to the gate. He knew this was where the boy was killed, just needed her to prove it.

She looked up at him, "Someone's been scrubbing this. Been helpful if you'd called me in earlier."

"Hadn't made a connection earlier."

"Well, I can't be held accountable for your professional deficiencies."

He looked back at her, wondering if she was joining the list of people having fun at his expense. Choosing to ignore the dig, he addressed James. "See that there. I want Forensics all over that with their little hankies." He turned back to Laura, "Hobson, you're taking forever, man. It's blood, isn't it? Is it human?" She sat up, staring at him, at his tone. "I bet you fifty quid it's Lucas's."

Standing, she turned to James. "How can you stand him when he's like this."

"Suffering and endurance, doctor. Bedrock of a happy marriage."

Robbie interrupted their conversation, "This is where he was killed. He was climbing up there. The vehicle rammed the gates, knocked him off, he hit the floor. The car drove over him again and again to make absolutely sure that he was dead. The murderer got out, put the body in the car, drove across town and dumped it. Why? What did you want here, Lucas? What've these old rockers got to do with a boy like you?"

He joined Esme outside. A small part of him was happy to have her alone. But the rest of him knew something was off and suspected it had something to do with his case. He sat on the stone next to her, "Okay. This is the bit where you tell me the truth. If you lie to me now, you'll regret it."

"Have I lied to you?"

"You've been highly selective with what you say and don't say. You give the impression you just materialized here."

"What should I have said?"

He told the truth he'd finally figured out, "That you were delivered to the farm gates by Vernon Oxe."

She exhaled a cloud of smoke, "Materializing was good showbiz. People were impressed." She threw the cigarette away then turned back to Robbie. "35 years ago the band was in thrall to me. I was the enchantment that held us together. Made us stars. Think about that girl in the top hat, Lewis…and look at what I am now. If I'm going to do any enchanting these days, I'll need all the magic I can get." She pointed at him, "Now, Vernon may be a sad, fat old letch, but he's still got a bit of fairy dust up his sleeve. If it looked like the band was gonna get back on its feet, that everybody was gonna be in the vibe, then I'd trundle Vernon out of the wings. That was the plan."

Robbie smiled, a little enthralled with her story even if he didn't completely believe it. "I saw you play in Newcastle City Hall the night I met my wife."

"Is that a trick question? Did we play Newcastle?"

He nodded, "You did."

"Were we good?"

"Better than good."

"We could be again."

"Not if one of you's a murderer."

James met him outside. He was watching Laura pack up her things. He nodded in her direction, "She was a bit stroppy with me in there."

James nodded, "Not surprising, sir."

Robbie looked back at him, "Why?"

"You were a bit stroppy with her." James waited for recognition, when it didn't come, "Outside the gates. You might owe Dr. Hobson a bit of an apology, sir."

"Surely she didn't take that personally." He looked over at James, then nodded. "I'll give her a call."

"I can handle Vernon Oxe. Why don't you give her a call?"

He waited. She hadn't answered when he called, he'd left a message. Told her where he would be and asked her to please join him. He wasn't entirely sure she would. Wasn't even sure he would blame her if she didn't.

He heard her footsteps and turned to her. His entire body relaxed. She was smiling at him, seemed glad to see him. He wondered if there would ever be a time she didn't forgive him. It was the one thing about her which reminded him of Val, her endless supply of patience with him.

Handing him an evidence bag, "SOCO's found this in a wheelie bin down the road form the Faculty. They're good boys. Very thorough."

He held it up, trying to make out what it was. "What's on it?"

"Frisch's skin, which is what one might expect. But there's also a very small quantity of leather." He looked at her questioningly. She smiled, "One doesn't play the lute wearing gloves. With garrottings, one must expect gloves; the garrotter doesn't want to cut their hands on the murder weapon."

He stared off, "I have three killings, Doctor. And they're all connected."

She nodded, "Yep, I think they are. And I'll tell you something else about your murderer. He or she is very fastidious. Killed the first one with a car, second one with a needle, and strangled the third whilst wearing dinky little gloves."

He nodded, finally understanding her meaning. "Doesn't like the contact."

"Doesn't shy away from the brutal deed, but doesn't like to touch."

Robbie started walking, this wasn't what he'd planned when he'd asked her to join him. But it seemed to be providing them an equilibrium. "So, the killer silences Lucas. But that's not enough. Bone has to be got rid of, too. Then the killer thinks: 'Blimey, is there someone else I have to keep quiet?' And there was. Samantha Wheeler. What's the secret here, Laura? I mean, try and imagine three more utterly different people. What is it they all know that's so threatening? And who else knows?"

"Sounds like a lot of questions needing answers. If only I knew a good detective who get those answers."

He laughed, reached out touched her arm lightly. "I'm sorry, Laura." Pausing, "I'm at a bit of a loss these days."

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

He closed his eyes, "Don't hate me, even when I'm an ill-tempered…"

"I could never hate you."

"I saw the look on your face."

She laughed, "OK, maybe for a second." Meeting his eye, "You're passionate and sometimes speak before you think."

"What do you do on Sundays?"

Wrinkling her nose, "What?"

"On Sundays, do you go to church, sleep late, do you have a routine?"

She shrugged, "Not really. Why do you ask?"

"When Val was alive we always had a traditional roast dinner on Sundays. Lately, I find I'm missing those more and more." At her concerned look, he touched her arm again. "I'm not missing Val, specifically, but the ritual of a Sunday meal with people I care about."

"I don't understand."

Rubbing at his eye, "I was wondering if you might like to have dinner on Sundays. I'm not asking you to cook and my cooking skills are nowhere near accomplished enough to pull off a meal like that. But, maybe, in a pub somewhere, we could have dinner. And it doesn't have to be every Sunday, I'm sure you have other friends and obligations but maybe once a month or so…"

"That sounds nice, Robbie."

"Really?"

"Yes, really."

The paperwork was finished, the case closed. And now he was in need of a drink or two and something to eat.

"I hear you closed your case."

He turned, smiling at her. "We did and we are just about to grab a drink or two. Care to join us?"

"Will there be chips involved?"

"Aren't there always?"

Smiling, she nodded, "Then count me in."

James joined them and they left together. They walked in silence and bought their chips. The only sound, at first, was chewing. Finally, Laura, couldn't wait any longer. "I'm a simple soul, chaps. Try not to blind me with science."

James smiled at her joke, "Vernon Oxe was grooming Maureen Little to become like her sister Esme…to walk like her and talk like her."

Robbie interjected, "Sang very like her but not quite."

James continued, "Before he could get the whole con rolling, he had to get the endorsement of one or two people he thought were essential. Samantha Wheeler…"

Laura nodded, "But she smelled a rat."

Robbie hummed in agreement, "Vernon couldn't have her walking around saying Esme was a fake."

Looking over at Robbie, "And Bone wasn't buying it either." Both men shook their heads, "What about the first murder, the boy, Lucas?"

"Poor Lucas didn't fit in with the plot at all."

James filled in the gaps, "The whole scam was predicated on the fact that Maureen's life was empty. To have Vernon take control of it might have been a bad thing, but at least it was something, giving her life some purpose, some reason."

Laura shook her head, "Yeah, but not as much as finding out she had a real grandchild." Laura offered chips to James.

"Well, whatever Oxe was peddling by way of a fantasy couldn't start to compare with that. Lucas had to go." Smiling over at Laura, "Still, at least, Hathaway got a glimpse of the rock and roll life. That's educational."

James smiles. "Yes, now I know what it feels like to be Britney Spears."

"Will it stop you dressing like her on your days off?" Robbie asks.

"Probably not. That's another thing I shall need counseling for. I spent all afternoon in a lake full of crap with knives in it, saving your presence, doctor. I haven't begun on the matter of compensation."

Robbie looked at him. "Would you settle out of court for a pint?"

James looks at him confused. "What do you think I am?"

"Thirsty?"

"Two pints!"

"Done."

James' mobile beeped, "Excuse me." He pulled it from his pocket, reading the text responding to it instantly.

Laura and Robbie continued walking. Lightly hitting his arm, she teased, "Oh pull yourself together, Lewis. You're only young once and that was a long time ago. I'll buy you a drink and you can bang on about how perfect everything was in your day. Now when I say buy you a drink I should point out that I don't actually have any cash."

She tucked her arm into his as they continued walking. James followed at a distance, waiting to see if he got a response to his text. Robbie opened the door for Laura just as his phone beeped, he looked down at the screen smiling.

"Sir, I'll take a raincheck on those pints." Robbie turned back to him, a questioning look. "Some of us have personal lives, sir." He pointed at Laura, "I'm sure the good doctor doesn't mind keeping you company."

Laura laughed, "Challenge accepted, James. Have a good evening."

James was off before Robbie could respond. He stood staring at the retreating form of his partner, "What was that all about?"

"I suspect he has a date."

"Well if he had a date then why did he come out with us at all?"

She rolled her eyes, "I think the text might have had been the confirmation of plans."

He huffed, "In my day, people planned things, asked people out."

"Were those the days of arranged marriages and dowries?"

Her eyes widened, panic filled her as she realized what she'd said. She was just about to apologize when he laughed. "Actually, Val had to ask me out."

"What?"

He ordered their drinks, then turned smiling at her. "We met at a Midnight Addiction concert. Started talking, spent most of the evening side by side, cheering on the band. At the end, she asked me if I had any plans that would get in the way. I asked her get in the way of what? She smiled at me and said 'To you taking me to dinner tomorrow night.'" He paid for their drinks and nodded at an empty table in a corner.

As they sat, she smiled at him. "Is that story true?"

He nodded, "Every word. If not for her boldness, I might have let her walk away. Might have spent the rest of my life wondering what if."

Raising her glass, she touched it softly to his. "To Val."

"To Val."