So at last I've got another chapter out and now feel like the block has finally started to lift as I'm well on with chapter 16.

Thank you for the reviews; they give me a bit more faith in what I'm doing and I've certainly needed it recently. With there being so many D&M writers around at the moment, I'm very grateful to those who spare the time to give us all feedback.

Chapter 15

Is it cold where you are?
Do you feel safe in the dark?
You really want to go this far?

All alone in your Hyde Park

Hyde Park by F.A.Q (2005)

There was a distinct chill in the air; the tendrils of Autumn curling insidiously through the last green vestiges of nature to inflict a beautiful death. Orange and gold, brown and red; such vibrant colours to mark the dying season.

But in the dead of night, this awe-inspiring splendour had been lost to Robert Makepeace's eyes. All was shades of other-worldly grey underneath the crescent moon hanging so unobtrusively in the charcoal night sky.

It had been finding the south east entrance to Hyde Park that had proved to be the tricky bit. It had been years since he'd visited the park at all thus he was unfamiliar with the geography of the area. But once he had located the entrance, he managed to follow Rhodes' directions with relative ease, given the fact he was searching for their rendezvous point in the dark.

Robert was quite surprised to find he wasn't entirely alone as he marched along the path to the turn-off up ahead. At almost one o'clock in the morning, he hadn't expected to see another living soul but there had been a man leaving via the metal gate just as he'd arrived and another wandered towards him from the opposite direction as he made his way up. He had felt his heart quicken and his skin prickle when the man stopped in his tracks and just stared as Robert passed. He had thought for a minute he was in trouble, that he was about to be mugged and held his breath, shoulders hunched as though to resist the impending blow to the back of his head. But he had rounded the bend unscathed, only to be met with the sight of a youth, probably in his late teens or early twenties, picking his way out of the bushes on the left. He saw Robert, wiped his hand across his mouth and grinned before moving off.

If Robert had felt uneasy before, he was now downright disturbed.

When the young man was followed a few minutes later by a second, older and much stockier built man, it all began to fall into place; this was a cruising ground for homosexuals.

His already frayed nerves began to shred. Just what exactly was he setting himself up for? What was Rhodes up to? Was he missing something somewhere?

He was approaching a clearing where he could just make out the statue of the Greek goddess, Diana, standing in her shallow pool raised up by three Egyptian style figures on a dais in the middle of the fountain. Was he really meeting Rhodes for what he thought he was meeting him for?

The fountain area was wide open and spacious and Robert felt he could breathe a little better as he took the cool, earthy scents down into his lungs. September was the last huzzah for the roses and their night time fragrance was quite delectable. He passed by one of the large circular beds, inhaling deeply as he caught a fleeting whiff of the perfume, unconsciously striving to hold onto the gently intoxicating aroma.

The large blooms were colourless in the ethereal light, appearing waxy and artificial and everything around suddenly seemed much too still.

Robert's stride had slowed to timid steps as he surveyed the tableau before him. Several unoccupied wooden park benches spanned the fountain, rose beds acting as sentinels to the dark pathways beyond.

Two ghostly figures moved away from the far side of the fountain and disappeared into the trees.

He checked his watch: 12:59am

Robert had been trying to remember what Raymond Rhodes looked like but even hearing his voice on the 'phone earlier hadn't jogged his memory. He'd never actually met the man face to face, only seen him fleetingly as he was escorted through the reception area of the law firm on his way to Francis Callow's office.

As he walked up to the fountain, he spied a man standing waiting on the other side, a big man, thick set and of a muscular build. He stood with perfect posture, hands shoved into the pockets of his leather bomber jacket, his jaw set with determination. His head turned as Robert approached, his expression unchanged but a flicker of interest flinting in his eyes.

He didn't know what to say although he thought it advisable not to use his name.

"We spoke on the 'phone earlier?" he queried.

The man was now openly appraising him.

"No but if you want some company while you wait…"

"Sorry," Robert mumbled, backing away. "I thought you were someone else… sorry."

The man shrugged but didn't look away, half expecting Robert to recant his last words.

This whole thing was a bad idea. It wasn't going to work. He didn't know what to think now. What sort of game was Rhodes playing?

Now in a cold sweat, Robert hurried back around to the other side of the fountain out of sight.

The smell of the roses was suddenly almost overpowering, filling his nostrils, cloying and repugnant.

"You need to be more careful. Talking to strange men at this time of night can land you in hot water."

Robert swung round to find himself face to face with what could only be described as the epitome of 'average'. Although the light was poor, it was clear that Rhodes had no noteworthy physical attributes. He was of medium height, slim build, fine mousey brown hair neatly combed, non-descript attire and instantly forgettable facial features. Even his age was indeterminate; forty-five possibly or five years either side. Everything, Robert realised, that would preserve the anonymity of a cold-blooded killer.

But he was yet to be totally convinced of his identity.

"Luckily, strange men really aren't my thing," he said with a bravado he wasn't feeling.

Rhodes gave a little sniff. "No, me neither but where better to meet in the dead of night to conduct my type of business without drawing attention or arousing suspicion?"

Ironically, Robert felt himself relax a little bit. At least now he didn't have to worry that this meeting was anything more than he was expecting it to be.

"Not my first choice of venue for blending in, it has to be said," Robert joked nervously.

"Never-the-less," Rhodes told him blandly, "it's my choice. Now, let's get down to this business shall we? I don't need to know the whys and wherefores, I just need to know who, Mr Makepeace."

He felt the blood drain from his face. "You know my name."

"Surely you didn't think I'd agree to meet you without doing my homework. I have to know exactly what I'm dealing with before I accept a job. Contacts…" he answered the floating question. "I had your 'phone number traced and made a few enquiries."

"That was fast work! I take it I passed muster?"

"Not exactly."

Rhodes sniffed and gazed off to the side. "I have concerns."

"What about?" Robert asked.

"Come on, now. Do I have to spell it out? You're a solicitor with one of her majesty's finest in the family."

He'd done some serious checking up.

"She isn't in the family; she's my ex-wife," Robert shot back, slightly panicked by the fact that he knew things about his life.

Rhodes just gave him a pitying half smile.

"… and besides, she's part of the reason I want to hire you."

The smile didn't falter. "I don't deal in cops, Mr Makepeace. Let's be clear on that score right from the start."

"No, no, that isn't what I'm asking for."

"And how is Mr Callow these days?"

"My profession is irrelevant, as is my ex-wife's. This request is purely personal."

"That's the conclusion I came to. You knew of my existence from my court case in 1980; you contacted me via an unsecured line and you had no clue whatsoever what this area of the park is used for after hours. I'm quite confident that nobody's working you from behind." And then he chuckled at the innuendo. "That is to say, I don't believe you're involved in any sort of sting."

Robert laughed shortly. "A sting? Good God, no."

"No. Of course not. Because nature dictates that once a busy little honey bee has administered the sting, it must die. The poor creatures are flying suicide missions - to take down the enemy, they must sacrifice their own lives. Quite sad."

Robert didn't like the slant of the conversation. It was creepy – borderline threatening. He'd thought it would be straight forward; he would tell Rhodes what he wanted doing, pay him for his services and the job would be done. He hadn't really been expecting to be given the third degree.

"My brother," Robert told him.

Rhodes raised an eyebrow, if not surprised then certainly interested.

"Hmm." He sniffed. "I must admit I was expecting your cause for concern to be business related. Still, it's all just business to me."

"And my ex-wife…" Robert ploughed on, stepping off into the abyss, "I want her to be implicated… I want her charged with my brother's murder. Can you make that happen?"

With her head down, seemingly engrossed in the charges sheet of a suspect being held in the cells downstairs, Harry felt as though all eyes were upon her.

Quite how Dempsey could carry on like everything was normal she had no idea. Nothing felt 'normal'. Even taking the coffee he'd just made out of his hand hadn't seemed 'normal'.

She scowled.

This was exactly what she'd feared would happen.

Everything turned on its' head, their relationship now impossible to translate into their working environment. But at the same time, a joyous excitement broiled within her.

God, how she thrilled at the very thought of him! These last few weeks, Dempsey had told her in so many ways how much she meant to him; small deeds, random words, a light touch, the merest look, all designed to show her he cared – really cared. But this weekend, when he had actually said that he loved her, it had all seemed to come together and make sense somehow. And the physical act itself! She'd harboured certain expectations, simply for the fact that the indisputable attraction had been there for so long, bubbling away beneath the surface. Of course it could have gone the opposite way – the damp squib effect, anticipation falling flat but thankfully that had been very far from the case. It had been amazing. And of course, that first flush would always provide a certain excitement which was impossible to harness but even so…

He was so much less inhibited than the other men she had been intimate with. Partly down to experience she acknowledged (she shied away from using the word 'practice') but also because that was his nature and he wouldn't get uptight over anything as natural as sex. And Harry had found herself feeding off that, participating without the reserve she might have expected to feel.

"Somethin' up, Makepeace?"

She raised her head at the mention of her name, prodded from her reverie.

"You're lookin' kinda out of it."

"I'm fine," she answered automatically.

"Flushed, too," he observed.

Leaning back on his swivel chair, he held her eyes, mischief glinting in his own. "You ain't sick are ya, princess?" His right hand was on his chest, lazily patting at his left pec, a nonchalant massaging action which wouldn't mean a thing to the casual observer yet caused Harry to blush all the more.

Lovesick

"Perfectly well, thank you, Dempsey," she clipped.

"Ah, okay." He sat up again and grabbed a pen. "Just that I felt real odd over the weekend. Spent half of it in bed. Was wonderin' if maybe we caught the same bug."

That was it. He'd gone way too far. They'd agreed there had to be a definite line drawn between their professional relationship and their personal one and here he was overstepping that line on day one.

Her eyes narrowed. "As I said, I'm fine. Maybe it was something you ate."

It was only when he broke into a grin as he dragged a card index box towards him that she realised he was probably envisioning that dining room table heaving with Christmas fayre. But then a considerably more intimate interpretation sprang to mind and Harry blushed so profusely, her previous embarrassment seemed positively anaemic in comparison.

She stood abruptly, shooting him a furious glare before marching to the main office door and disappearing out into the corridor.

Dempsey couldn't decide whether to go after her of not. He should probably give her ten minutes cooling off and if she wasn't back in that time, start praying.

But the thing was, he hadn't actually done anything. Okay, so the weekend in bed crack had been… well, he shouldn't have used the word 'bed' period 'cause it was just too ripe with potential. The rest had been all her. She'd gotten all red in the face and flustered for no apparent reason. He'd barely said a word, yet suddenly it was all his fault despite the fact it was her giving him the lines.

So after this weekend, she was super-sensitive - and in more ways than one. Did that mean not acting their normal selves? They started being all coy around each other and the boys would smell change in the air for sure.

He suddenly felt deflated. Was this the way it was going to be? Choosing his words, biting his tongue? Shouldn't he be walking on air right now instead of treading on eggshells?

He felt what had been a chink of pain in his head suddenly crack open and flood into his skull and automatically he reached behind him into the pocket of his jacket on the back of the chair. He'd been trying to ignore his shoulder for the last half hour but that now seemed intolerable too.

Dempsey devoured the little pink pills as though a hunger had taken hold of him. Half an hour and he'd be normal again.

Relax, Dempsey. She said she loves you and that's all that matters. It's just teething trouble; it'll work itself out.

"Hey, Dave!" he called across the office, "how'd it go with Gina, Saturday night? You score yet?"

Misdirection. Whilst they were pumping Dave for info on whether or not his fledgling relationship had made it to third base this weekend, Dempsey's sex life would take a back seat.

Makepeace's absence was a cue for an unleashing of banter of the coarser variety and certain details were revealed that wouldn't have ever tainted the air had she been present.

By the time Harry returned to the office a few minutes later, it had already settled down again and Dempsey glanced up expectantly.

She resumed her seat without acknowledging him and busied herself with sorting through a stacked letter tray.

Just great! The silent treatment now.

"Sorry," she mouthed softly. Her eyes flickered briefly in his direction before returning to her task. In a way, that just made things worse because now he wanted to take her in his arms and hold her; tell her he understood even though he wasn't so sure he did. But he knew that wouldn't take away the doubts she had about them being together. Because she did have doubts. And if he was being honest, so did he. They were very different people from completely different worlds. They said that opposites attract but if the only glue you had to hold you together was love, could that ever be enough?

"Superglue," he answered.

Their eyes finally met.

"I beg your pardon?"

His only reply was a secretive little smile that told her, 'apology accepted'.