Chapter 24

He held the cold bottle up to his nose. It probably wouldn't hurt nearly as badly if he didn't keep laughing. He pressed the button to rewind the footage of him on the news again, unable to help himself.

"Aren't you a bit long in the tooth to be running around playing cops and robbers?"

"Who's playing, I am a copper."

"You're not that kind of copper."

He shrugged, "Just a spot of fun, no harm, no foul."

Nodding at him, "Your nose would suggest otherwise." She leant in closer, "You should get that checked. Perhaps Dr. Hobson could take a look?"

Taking a long pull from the bottle, "Nope, I'd have to be dead for that." Tipping his bottle towards her, "What happened to calling her Laura?"

She smiled, "Figured if I reminded you she was a doctor you might be more inclined to call her."

"It's just a bump, Val."

"Perhaps, but it never hurts to press your advantage."

"And what advantage is that?"

Walking away, she called over her shoulder, "Injured, hero cop. How on earth could she resist?"

With the words echoing in the air, she disappeared. She seemed to do more of that lately, almost as if she sensed he didn't need her as much. There were times he missed her but, of late, it didn't hurt as much when he realized it.

Putting down the beer, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. At least he hadn't gotten any blood on it. As he stripped it off, he briefly considered calling Laura. Not because Val had suggested it but because he wanted to call her. Lately he wanted to call her more frequently. Actually, had called her more. No, he wouldn't call her tonight. Didn't want her to think he'd only call because of his nose.

Leaving the dead woman's flat, he was pleased to find Laura waiting, even if she had a grim expression.

Holding up the evidence bag, she dove right in, "In the bathroom. Painkillers. Bottle of these, half a bottle of vodka, lie on the bed, fade out."

"So it is suicide?"

"Don't jump the gun, Inspector." Smirking up at him, she caught her first real look at his face. "Hey, what have you done to you face?"

"Haven't you seen the telly? How me and Hathaway took down the notorious Jones drug cartel of Sheepridge?'

Nodding in disbelief, "You were on the television? I can't believe I missed it."

Shaking his head,, "Oh, well, my 15 seconds of fame, me."

Pointing back at the hearse, "She had her 15 seconds, too. Wrote a book back in the 90s, how women could survive without men. It was quite influential."

Looking back at her, he teased, "Did it influence you?"

He almost laughed at her look of disgust, "No, course not. I came to that conclusion years ago."

He watched her walk away, a smile teasing at the edge of his lips. He never quite seemed to get in the last word. "I've got it recorded if you want to see." She turned back to him with a questioning glance. "Me on the telly. I'll throw in a takeaway."

"The only crime I care about is who killed that woman." Nodding at the hearse pulling away, "Get back to your day job."

It took all of his professionalism not to laugh. Nope, he was never going to get in the last word.

This case was rubbing him the wrong way. The isolated life Miranda had led. If he dwelled on it too much, it made him think of his own life. Or at least what his life had been, before Michelle Marber. But still, there was a parallel, one that hit entirely too close to home.

Laura's voice dragged him away from his thoughts, "Ah Robbie, I need to talk to you."

He put on his jacket. "I've just been to an internet dating site."

She paused for a moment a peculiar look on her face. Perhaps this was the moment he would get the last word. Smiling up at him, "Meet someone nice?"

Of course, she had a cheeky retort, "I said to, not on. And it was for work not the other."

"Glad to hear it. Not that there's anything wrong with the other. Over 20% of all married couples now meet on the internet. So I am reliably informed by the magazines at my hairdresser's."

"Going online exposing yourself to millions of strangers, I don't know."

She shrugged, "Well don't knock it until you've tried it."

He looked at her. He couldn't tell by the look on her face if she was serious. "You haven't?"

She scoffed. "Oh, a single woman, my age, any age. What are we supposed to do? Hang around in bars like…"

"Like lumberjacks?" He smiled at her as he reached for the door.

She looked at him skeptically, "Exactly. Online you can reveal yourself relatively painlessly."

The door opened and DI Peterson stepped out of the building. "Oh Lewis, I um I saw you on telly." He patted him on the back. "Good stuff." He walked between them then turned back, "Oh um." His voice lowered as he looked at Laura. "I'm sorry, we haven't met. I'm kind of the new boy round here." He put his hand out to her and smiled. "Alan Peterson."

She took his hand and returned the smile, "Laura Hobson. Got any dead or mutilated bodies, I'm your girl."

He raised his eyebrows. "I'll bear that in mind." He turned and walked away.

Robbie watched the interchange. He didn't like action man flirting with Laura and he wasn't sure about the look on her face. He pulled open the door, letting her walk through first. Once inside the building, she was all business.

"Anyway, the reason I was looking for you was Miranda Thornton."

"Oh, please tell me she was murdered."

She stopped walking, "Is that what you want?"

Turning back to her, "Not what I want. But I prefer that to the idea that her life was so unbearable she decided not to wake up again."

"Well the jury's still out on that, I'm afraid. Blood alcohol was high. Stomach contents confirm the ingestion of painkillers, certainly enough to kill her."

"So why's the jury still out?"

Looking back at him, "There was some odd material in her lungs. Spores and fragments of herbs: sage, rosemary, thyme."

Hathaway joined them at the intersection, "It's like Scarborough Fair." At their identical looks, he explained, "Parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme? Remember me to one who lives there?"

Robbie rolled his eyes, "Yea, never mind that. So, you're saying Miranda was sniffing herbs? Nobody inhales rosemary."

James continued his obtuse comment, "You do if you've been listening to too much Simon and Garfunkel."

Robbie grumpily turned to him, "We're trying to have a sensible conversation."

Before they could devolve, Laura interjected, "The fact is, I don't know what it means. We're doing some more tests, but until then…"

Laura walked away without a further word. James shook his head, at her abrupt departure. "Was I interrupting something?"

Without hesitation, Robbie answered, "Yes. So, what have you been doing?"

He was lecturing Hathaway, still not believing David Connelly's story when Laura interrupted. "No, he's not." Stepping right up to him, she met his angry glare, "Your theory's rubbish."

"Oh, thanks very much. Which theory?"

"That she was murdered. I did check. From the levels of alcohol and co-proxamol in Miranda's blood, the painkillers were not ingested postmortem. She was alive when she took them."

"Then who put the bag over her head?"

Laura shrugged, "She did."

"What? Pills, booze and a bag?"

Laura inhaled deeply, trying not to lose her temper. "With pills and booze, there's no guarantee that you won't throw up or be discovered before they've worked. The bag guarantees it."

Annoyed at her theory, he turned away. "That's just speculation."

Walking around to confront him, "No, Robbie, it's deduction based on facts. My version explains the absence of struggle in the house, injury to the body. Your version is just a fantasy."

James had been watching with fascination. This was the second time in the same day they had seemed to forget his existence. This felt more like a lover's quarrel than a disagreement between colleagues. "I am here you know." At their angry glances, he decided to press his luck, "I could go."

Pointing at James, Robbie looked back at Laura. "You stay. So you're ruling suicide?"

"I'm ruling an open verdict."

"What, then you're still not certain."

Again, she took a deep breath, "I believe she killed herself."

"What, you believe a brilliant woman killed herself because of some internet video? Wouldn't she fight, try and find out who leaked it? Instead of just…just giving up?"

Realizing there was no winning this argument, she chose not to continue to fight. "You'll have my report in two hours."

She walked away, leaving him angry, still spoiling for a fight. He thought about following her but Gurdip was in his way. Pulling his gaze from her rapidly retreating frame, he focused on what Gurdip had to say.

It had been days since he'd seen her. Their argument seemed to loom larger the longer he went without seeing her. Her report had arrived within the hour, not the two hours she'd promised. And since then, nothing.

His last words to David Connelly played over in his head. "What did she do to you?" Clearly, they had meant something to one another. Was it something big that had torn them apart or something stupid left too long that created a gaping chasm neither was willing to bridge due to foolish pride.

Would that happen to him and Laura? They'd never really fought before, not like this. If he left it go would it grow and fester, create a divide they couldn't repair? The thought was starting to take seed in his brain when his phone chimed. Carefully he pulled it from his pocket, relief seeping through him when he saw it was a text from her. "Can we talk? The Trout half an hour?"

He'd beat her to the pub and found a table. He waved at her when she came in, smiling as she sat. "Your usual?"

She smiled at him, watching him walk away. The file he'd left behind drew her attention. Checking to make sure he was occupied, she rifled through it unsurprised to see it was about the case. When she saw him coming she quickly pushed it back towards his seat.

She took the drink from him as he sat, "Thanks and thanks for meeting me."

He nodded. "My pleasure. Cheers." He looked at her feeling the gap between them, so different from their interactions before the row.

She took a deep breath then looked at him. "Sorry Robbie I was being a real cow."

"No, my fault, wanting something to be true and not waiting for all the facts." He smiled at her.

She took a sip of her drink. "Think you've got them all now?"

He motioned his head toward the file, "No, but she's dead and we move on."

She moved her hand toward him and placed it on the file in front him. "Except not if you're taking her home with you."

He looked down at her hand. For a second, he thought about covering her hand with his. Instead, he took a deep breath. "She took a risk. Took a look at her life, tried to change it and she got destroyed."

She smiled at him. "Doesn't mean you shouldn't take a risk." They stared at one another each afraid to say what needed to be said.

"Lewis, Laura." DI Peterson called as he strode to the table. "I didn't know you came here it's my favorite pub. You don't mind if I uh…"

Laura shook her head. "Not at all."

He grabbed a chair and pulled it to the table sitting between them. "Oh great, thanks." Robbie looked on shocked, not really sure what was happening.

Peterson looked at Laura. "Well Oxford on a summer's evening is there a lovelier place in the world."

She smiled brightly at him. "Not a one. Where were you before?"

"Oh Sunderland, it's not exactly…"

Robbie interjected. "Steady no slandering the northeast."

Laura laughed as Peterson interjected. "Sorry, my lips are sealed. Cheers."

The trio sat in awkward silence. Finally, Robbie couldn't take it anymore. He drained the last of his pint, picked up the file and stood. "I have a case to solve. Or maybe not. Either way, have to be getting on."

Laura stood, too, almost knocking over the table. "Actually, I have to get back, too. Crime never sleeps."

Alan laughed, "You two must be the most dedicated members of the Oxford Police department."

"What can we say, Peterson, not everyone gets to bust into places and get press coverage. Some of us just have to track down cold-blooded killers."

Laura had to hide her smile as she followed Robbie from the pub. Once outside, laughter spilled out of her. "You really don't like him."

Looking back at her, "No, it's not that I don't…"

"You don't like him, it's ok. I'll keep it to myself."

At her teasing smile, he relaxed for the first time in days. "Alright, I don't." Pausing for a second, he decided to take a risk, "I don't have to be anywhere, care to take a walk?"

The case was solved, he'd invited Laura out to celebrate but she'd had plans. Instead he was here, drinking with Hathaway. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't mind, it was a tradition after all. Today though, his thoughts were with Laura, and taking a risk.

His fear was if he left it too long, they might not take the risk. They might become a version of Miranda Thornton and David Connelly.

"Miranda and Connelly. In love with each other for 20 years and never said a word."

James responded without looking up from his book. He wanted this line of conversation but didn't want to seem eager. "Scared of rejection."

"So they bury themselves in their work, become very successful…and very alone."

Daring a single glance up, "Now who does that remind me of?"

Robbie glared at him, James looked over a smirk lighting his eyes. Robbie nodded at him, "Out with it."

"Nothing, sir." He took a sip from his bottle, "But I do find it odd how passionate you and Dr. Hobson were about this case."

Robbie shrugged, unable to meet James' eyes, "No more than usual."

"A lot more than usual. You've bickered in the past but nothing quite like this."

"What are you trying to say, James?"

"I'm not saying anything, sir, merely pointing out a change in interactions." He looked across the lawn, smiling to himself, "If I were saying something, I would say that type of passion probably shouldn't be kept locked away for 20 years."

Robbie had to look away, frightened by how close James' words had mirrored his thoughts. James watched him from the corner of his eye, knew he'd pressed his luck as far as he could. Carefully placing his bookmark where he'd stopped reading, he drained the last of his beer. "Sir, I have my own passions to pursue. Have a lovely evening."

James was gone before he could respond. His words about locked away passion lay heavy in the air. Was he ready to take that risk? If he took it, Val would leave. Would he gain enough to make it worth it?