I finished writing this ages ago but have been editing it for something like a fortnight *rolls eyes* It was almost ready to post on Friday but I've spent the entire weekend emptying out the contents of my kitchen to make way for the new one being fitted next week. It's quite liberating to throw out so many old, battered saucepans and baking trays along with several bin liners worth of plastic Tupperware-type tat :-D And this time next week I'll have a little breakfast bar/nook so I'm hoping that will turn out to be a good place to write.

Anyway, here it is. Hope you enjoy it. Now I can do the reviews I owe next week ;-)

Chapter 24

"You sure?" asked Dempsey.

It was an automatic response to the news that Harry's Cabriolet had disappeared from the spot where she'd parked it last night but still she took it personally.

"Oh, maybe I parked it illegally and it's been towed," she said with sarcasm. "Or more likely I just forgot where I parked it. That'll be it, won't it."

"It's happened to all of us at one time or another," he said defensively as she pushed past him. "Well, 'cept for me," he joked unwisely.

She ignored his wise-crack and marched to the 'phone on the wall. "I need to use your telephone."

"The number's nine, nine, nine."

"Please don't try to be funny. I'm angry."

She dialled and looked at her watch irritatedly whilst she waited for it to be picked up at the other end.

"Frank, it's Harry. Would you do me a favour and let our illustrious Chief Super know I'm going to be late? My car's been pinched."

There was a pause whilst Frank imparted some information that clearly denoted her request wasn't quite as simple as all that.

"Me? Really? He didn't give you a clue as to why?"

Another pause.

"No, I'm okay, thanks. I managed to catch Dempsey before he left; he's bringing me in."

She looked over her shoulder, seeing Dempsey shrugging into his jacket, a mischievous smile on his lips.

"No, don't worry, I'll call it in as soon as I get there."

She said goodbye and hung up.

"So you need a lift from me, huh? Mightn't that look a tad suspicious?" he echoed her previous words.

She gave him a tight smile. "Shall we go?"

"Mornin', mornin', mornin'." Dempsey gave a general greeting to his colleagues in the office. Harry on the other hand, despite having a 'legitimate' reason for both her late arrival and for travelling into work with her partner, was rather more subdued.

The mild ribbing she was certain to be on the receiving end of over the theft of her car wasn't even a concern. However, the advanced warning from Frank that Spikings had asked to be informed the moment she arrived most definitely was, that and the fact that two suits had made an appearance before seven thirty and were currently lodged inside his office.

Dempsey had told her not to sweat it; figured it was related to the Charlie Sachs murder case which still had a few loose ends that needed tying up. When Harry had questioned why it was only she whose presence was required, he had reasoned most convincingly that if the suits were from the Arts And Antiquities Squad (one of the longer loose ends) then Harry was by far the more knowledgeable and indeed eloquent one on the subject. Guaranteed Spikings would view him as more of a hindrance than a help.

There was an atmosphere of unease that Harry couldn't ignore and a feeling of nervousness took hold.

Chas deliberately caught her eye as he crossed the room to Spiking's office, offering a look of reassurance. He tapped softly and stuck his head around the door to let him know of her arrival.

Spiking's unusually sotto voce response gave her even more reason to be nervous.

"Ask her to come in would you, Sergeant Jarvis?"

Did the polite calmness mean that Spikings too was experiencing a bout of nerves?

She put her jacket on the back of her chair and her handbag beneath the desk, feeling curious eyes on her. Clearing her throat, she tried to sound jocund as she said to nobody specific, "Wish me luck."

Dempsey sucked his cheeks in, making a dismissive, clicky sound. "Be somethin' an' nothin', princess."

Unfortunately, he couldn't have been more wrong.

Harry knocked confidently and entered on Spiking's word.

Reflecting afterwards, for some strange reason it was the tea tray sitting on the desk which stood out in her mind. No chipped mugs or plastic cups from the vending machine for these boys. The important visitors were always presented with refreshments brought up from the canteen, the utilitarian pale green cups and saucers with matching sugar bowl and milk jug set aside for such occasions. And there was a side plate of biscuits too, an untouched assortment of chocolate digestives, bourbons and custard creams which was another gauge of ones' importance. If biscuits were provided at all, it was generally rich tea.

But these inconsequential thoughts only occurred to Harry much later whilst the dust was settling.

"Sergeant Makepeace, please take a seat," said Spikings.

He looked pale and very serious and she read both annoyance and defeat in his eyes, despite the posture of steel.

She could feel other eyes on her though.

One of the visitors rose from his chair, the other taking this as his cue and standing up likewise.

"That won't be necessary." Clipped and precise.

Harry took an instant dislike to the man. Somewhere around the fifty mark, he wore his slate grey suit like battle armour and his shoes were polished as though he were about to step out for parade inspection. His shirt was crisp white and as he stood looking impassively at Harry, she tried not to notice how his hair, grown over-long at the back, clung in tight, greasy curls at his shirt collar.

Smoothly, he took his warrant card from his inside jacket pocket and held it out briefly.

"Detective Chief Inspector Arnby and this is D.I. Pelliere." He indicated his colleague who was also displaying his credentials. This man was ten years younger and not quite so hell bent on giving off an intimidating air. Although he didn't smile, Harry felt that he was the sort of person who would need to remember not to. In fact, he even offered a civilised "Good morning, Detective Sergeant Makepeace."

"Good morning, sir!" She was careful to also include his superior and nodded her "Good morning, Detective Chief Inspector" with formality.

She was conscious of Spikings behind his desk, awkwardly passing his hand over the top of his silvery cropped hair and wondered at his gesture of agitation and uncertainty in the presence of subordinates. It all felt very wrong and if they were here about the Sachs case then it was to impart bad news in some form.

D.C.I. Arnby was a tall man and Harry found herself having to lift her head to make eye contact with him. There was a blankness there that she found unappealing to say the least.

"Detective Sergeant Harriet Makepeace, I'm arresting you on suspicion of the attempted murder of Jonathan Makepeace. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence, if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence."

It took a moment or two for the words to sink in and Arnby had actually got to the end of his recitation before Harry had even begun to relate to the meaning.

She took a step back. "I'm sorry… you're arresting me?" The questions began to well up in her head to spill out of her mouth randomly. "What's happened to Jonathan? He isn't dead… you said attempted? Why the hell are you arresting me?"

She took another two steps back and swung around to look for answers from Spikings who was now on his feet. D.C.I. Arnby instinctively grabbed her by the arm, sensing or so he thought, the potential for flight.

"Don't worry, Sergeant Makepeace, everything is going to be fine," said Spikings in his finest hostage negotiations voice. "Our friends here from Scotland Yard haven't quite realised their mistake yet. They just need a couple of hours of your time to clarify a few things."

"Yes, Sir, I understand," she replied, trying desperately to sound in control of her emotions. With disdain, Makepeace slightly lifted the arm which had Arnby's hand attached to it. "I promise you I'll come quietly, D.C.I. Arnby." She smiled sweetly and with obvious sarcasm. However, the senior officer refused to be directed by a female subordinate arrestee and so chose to ignore her, instead guiding her stiffly to the door and with D.I. Pelliere dancing around them to assist.

The inhabitants of the outer office were all surprised when the door opened so suddenly. It had been scant minutes since Harry had entered and everyone had been expecting the interview to be somewhat lengthy, given that the big boys had been despatched.

Eyes flickered across to Spikings' office although with practiced care; heads remaining bowed and with seemingly no diversion from the job in hand. Only Dempsey watched openly, swivelling his chair to disengage his feet from the desk top, not out of respect for the senior officers but rather to stand swiftly.

"I'll be along directly, Sergeant Makepeace," Spikings said with gruff formality to her retreating back. "I just need to make a couple of calls first."

Dempsey had noted the way Harry was positioned between the two officers along with the restraining hand. He recognised the 'herding' tactics that went along with those determinedly impassive expressions. These two were on a mission and they had just located their target.

"Hey!"

He was up and bounding between desks.

"What the fuck is goin' on here?"

His arms were outstretched, sidling around to bar their exit.

"Dempsey!" boomed Spikings in warning fashion.

"No! I wanna know. What is this?"

The rest of the office was now tuned in to what was happening, Frank and Dave rising from their desks, Jarvis halted in his tracks and viewing the situation with mounting concern.

"It's exactly what it looks like, Dempsey," Makepeace told him evenly. "I'm apparently under arrest for attempted murder."

D.I. Pelliere craned his neck to grab Spiking's attention. "If you could ask your officer to move aside, Sir…"

Dempsey was obviously starting to lose it. "Hate to break it to ya fellas but you've screwed up big-style." He was attempting to prise Arnby's hand off Harry, his arm about her waist and dragging her away only Harry herself resisted.

"It's fine," she whispered fiercely. "Just leave it!" Her harsh tone had the desired effect and he reluctantly took a step back.

"This ain't right." He looked from of the arresting officers to the other and shaking his head with incomprehension repeated, "This ain't right!"

Arnby was losing patience. He needed to get D.S. Makepeace back to base and begin questioning. It was going to be a lengthy and unpleasant process; inevitable when it was 'one of your own' because you couldn't afford to give an inch. Every clause, every loophole, every trick in the book was at a bent police officer's disposal. Not that this one was 'bent' exactly. It wasn't like bribery and corruption was the issue here. But then, murder was on another level entirely and who knew what methods she might employ to avoid incarceration. This initial interview stage might prove to be a game of cat and mouse.

"Of course it isn't right, Lieutenant Dempsey," boomed Spikings, "but there is a procedure to adhere to under these circumstances and obviously it is in the Sergeant's best interests to go along with whatever is requested of her at this stage."

Arnby was already with Makepeace outside in the corridor and Pelliere had effectively cut off Dempsey's contact with her by filling the doorway as he followed.

"I'm her partner!" yelled Dempsey. "I got a right to go with her."

The rest of the room had previously fallen silent but now a stirring of shocked cognizance had taken over and murmurs of dissent cast out a web of unrest as their female colleague was led away.

"What's going on, Sir?" asked Jarvis, his normally mild Scots accent sounding quite pronounced.

"What's she supposed to have done?" Frank asked, bewildered by what was playing out before them.

"Lieutenant Dempsey!" Spikings barked and then rather unexpectedly, grabbed him by the collar of his leather jacket to pull him bodily back into the office.

Forgetting himself in that fraught moment, Dempsey rounded on his boss, a snarl on his lips. "Hey!"

"Get your arse back behind your desk and calm yourself down before you do something Sergeant Makepeace may regret," he told him sternly.

"You kidding me?" He whipped his head back and tried to make for the door again but Spikings wasn't about to give him that option.

"I told you to sit – now do it!"

The brute force that Spikings employed to shove him towards his desk took Dempsey by surprise and although he refused to sit either at or on his desk, the action did have the power to make him stop and take stock.

"Now listen to me, all of you."

Spikings was bristling as he took off his suit jacket and all but threw it onto Harry's vacant desk.

"Unfortunately, your eyes did not deceive you. You have just witnessed the arrest of our colleague, D.S. Makepeace,"

As he talked, he carefully folded back his shirt sleeves, whether in an effort to keep a check on his emotions or maybe a subconscious 'down to business' gesture, he himself wasn't aware.

Dempsey let out a sharp, contemptuous laugh. "Those clowns have made a big mistake."

"I completely agree, Dempsey, however, it's going to take a bit of time to set the record straight."

He looked past the seething American to address the rest of the team.

"D.S. Makepeace has been arrested under suspicion of the attempted murder of Jonathan Makepeace…"

"No fuckin' way… that's bullshit!" Dempsey stabbed an accusing finger in his boss' direction.

"That's her ex-husband, isn't it?" Fry asked tentatively.

"Her ex-brother-in-law," Spikings corrected him, frowning heavily at Dempsey. "Now, I don't know the full story – yet, but I intend to find out pretty bloody fast and get Harry back here before the day's out."

"What's on the charge sheet, Guv?" asked Chas, calmly, aware of Dempsey's angry frustration permeating the already tense atmosphere of the room.

"Hit and run…"

"Where?" Dempsey shouted. "When?"

"Jonathan Makepeace has been staying with a friend who lives in Wimbledon. At 6:30am this morning Harry's car mounted the pavement as he was walking towards the bus stop. He was knocked down and left for dead. He's currently in 's Hospital, Tooting, on life support and it's touch and go apparently."

"Her car got jacked off the street sometime last night… early this mornin'… I don't know when...," Dempsey expounded. "She didn't do it!"

Spikings looked pale, his usual vigour lacking as he addressed the belligerent Yank.

"Trouble is, there were two reliable witnesses at the scene who say that she did."