A bit late to be posting but struggling for time at the minute so it's now or never. There are probably another four or five chapters to go so Dempsey needs to pull his finger out and track down those involved in Jonnie's attempted murder.

A smidge of Demparry for you tonight because it's well overdue ;-)

(Lynney... nah, you're just dreaming. LOL)

Chapter 30

Having tried Dempsey's number a couple of times and on both occasions, failing to get a response, Harry sat down in her kitchen with a cup of tea.

She was utterly exhausted.

An entire day of what had amounted to interrogation had taken its' toll but she knew the winding down process had yet to begin. Her brain was still spinning and it would be a while yet before she was capable of relaxing, if that even happened at all tonight.

She wasn't out of the frame yet; she was still a suspect and if it wasn't for Spikings she was convinced she would have been spending the night in a cell. And tomorrow she was required to spend another day answering their questions.

Carefully, she brought the steaming cup to her lips and blew gently, eyes closed.

It was a nightmare. Not only was Jonnie lying in a hospital bed, hovering somewhere between life and death, they were trying to come up with a motive for her putting him there!

They'd been digging into her past and asking all sorts of questions about her life during the period she was married to Robert. She wasn't good at talking about her personal life, particularly with strangers and under these circumstances, it made her feel physically sick.

Arnby and Pelliere, to their credit, had afforded her the level of respect one might expect a fellow police officer to receive but never-the-less, it had been an inordinately uncomfortable experience. It would certainly influence the way she herself conducted the interview process of suspects in the future – those with a clean sheet anyway. Always supposing she wasn't actually found guilty…

And there was no point trying to sweep it under the carpet; there was a genuine possibility that that could happen.

Her thoughts were with poor Jonathan too. She hadn't been told much but it sounded as though he was in a bad way and of course, there was no chance of her being allowed to visit him in hospital when she was under suspicion of having put him there.

Again, a tidal wave of panic flooded over her. What if she'd lost everything? What if whoever had taken her car last night had set out to destroy her and what if she couldn't prevent that from happening?

When the doorbell sounded, Harry rose sharply, rocketing up from the chair with an irrational and inexplicable fear screaming through every fibre of her being.

It was only a momentary thing as the illogicality of her reaction followed swiftly in its wake. She wasn't in any danger – was she?

It's Dempsey, her mind informed her calmly and then not quite so calmly, It's James! James is here!

She realised then how much his presence affected her; he restored her equilibrium and in an odd way brought a sense of normalcy to every situation.

"The boss-man said he'd dropped you at home. Thought I'd stop by and check you were okay."

His casual air was a front. What he really wanted was to wrap his arms around her and tell her it would all be okay only he knew Harry didn't cope well with the tea and sympathy gig.

"Well, I'm here which is a bonus. At one point, I thought I'd be spending the night in a six by four."

"Hey, those 7:00am full English breakfasts make incarceration a pleasure I heard."

Harry took a step back. "Are you coming in?"

He followed her inside, trying to gauge her mood, wondering if she needed him or not.

"Coffee?" she asked. "The kettle's just boiled."

"Thought you'd be on something stronger… sun's over the yard arm."

She was getting him a mug down from the cupboard, not waiting for his answer.

"I really don't think I could stomach it at the moment."

"I'll take tea."

His choice surprised her but she didn't comment. He was probably just being nice, thinking that it was easier to pour a cup of tea from the teapot on the table than make fresh coffee.

"I did try to ring you but I just got your answering machine. You were obviously on your way."

"Not been home yet."

Dempsey took up the cup she'd put in front of him.

"Oh?" She watched him drink down most of the hot tea. "Dare I ask what you've been up to?"

"Just some stuff. How you doin'? Been a long day for you, huh?"

"It's certainly been eventful. And another day of it tomorrow but I suppose I can't complain really because at least I'm home tonight."

Dempsey gave her a sardonic smile and looked down at the cup he held between both hands. "Can't complain? You're a hoot, Makepeace."

"I'm glad I amuse you."

"That stiff upper lip ain't ready to quit yet?"

"There might have been a quiver or two today," Harry admitted, "but that was mostly due to the frustration of it all."

"Those boys'll be wipin' egg off of their faces for the next six months when forensics do their thing."

"I am rather hoping they'll work their magic and clear everything up. There has to be some evidence of this woman, whoever she is."

"Did they tell you anything?" Dempsey asked. "I mean, like anything at all? They gotta have some idea of what's really goin' on."

"Well if they have, they certainly didn't want to discuss it with me or Roger."

"The solicitor guy?"

Harry began to run through an account of her day, answering Dempsey's questions, giving him the detail to try to make sense of the situation.

She'd thought that going over it again would have been the last thing she wanted but to relay it all to somebody who was on her side, to hear that person come up with reasons for her innocence rather than reasons for her guilt was a comfort.

He didn't push too hard she noted. He took it steady, keeping it light, adding a touch of humour where he could. But Harry could tell there was something he was holding back from her and guessed it was connected to whatever he'd been doing whilst she had been at Scotland Yard.

"So, Dempsey, how was your day? I think I probably need to know."

"Ya know… moochin' around."

"Where?"

"Maybe better I don't say, that way you don't gotta worry…"

"I'm already worried, Dempsey," Harry cut in. "Who have you been harassing in your unofficial capacity?"

He told her about his visit to Mike Campbell and the fact that Arnby and Pelliere had already taken away the binder containing information on Jonathan's job searching. The indented address on the notepad had proved to be non-existent according to Chas, there being no such company as Roseby and Fontaine either at that address or anywhere else, in face, the street itself turned out to be completely residential.

"So, we can assume that this man set up the fake interview simply to lure him out into the open at a time in the morning when witnesses would be few and far between and the woman would have a clear run at him so to speak."

"And anybody who got a look at her would make assumptions seein' a distinctive blonde 'do' so either a wig or she got herself an appointment at the beauty salon."

Harry sat back with an agitated sigh. "Arnby and Pelliere were more than happy to put something that obvious on the back burner. They seemed to be working heavily on the principal that if they kept chipping away at the main suspect, eventually I'd crack."

Dempsey made a face. "They don't know you."

"But I know you," she responded, "and I know you didn't while away the rest of the day keeping your nose clean."

"I kept a low profile," he assured her.

"Doing what?"

Dempsey shuffled in his seat uncomfortably under her scrutiny.

"If you've found something, I want to know, Dempsey, after all, it isn't me who could lose their job over flouting authority, I have a far more grandiose reason."

"I'm makin' some headway." He sat back, rubbing distractedly at the back of his neck. "Probably better if I don't discuss it with you, ya know."

"Probably better for your health if you do," Harry told him pleasantly.

"Okay, okay." He flopped forward, forearms on the table so that he was face to face with Harry. "So, Chas got me the names and addresses of the two people Jonathan had working for him when Hullabaloo Marketing was still a going concern…"

"You got Chas involved!?" Harry exploded.

"It's okay, Tiger, he didn't speak to anyone, he used my password and logged onto a different computer, it's cool."

"I don't care, you shouldn't have involved him."

"I know and you're right but it's hard to take a back seat when I got an angle, ya know."

"So go on," Harry pushed, despite herself "what did you find out?"

"Jonathan had two people working for him; Pam Forest, in her fifties, working part time as the secretary. And then we have David Miller, fresh outa university and a real eager beaver. Seems he's the keen to learn type, soakin' it all up, takin' it all in. So he tells me he thinks he can pinpoint exactly when this bum deal went down, even though Jonathan told him nothin' about it."

"Go on," Harry prompted, sipping her tea.

"Guy visits the office one day like six, seven months ago, obviously loaded, friendly as all get out. Takes Jonathan outside to view the uber-cool Lamborghini parked up at the roadside an' then after a half hour locked away in Jonathan's office, they go out on a long lunch break together. Kid remembers it crystal clear. Says he heard the guy tell him it was another sweet deal and he wanted him to get in on it."

"Interesting," said Harry. "Have you got a name?"

"Yeah… that's the thing." Dempsey's half smile told Harry it definitely was interesting although it turned out to be more than she'd bargained for.

"I didn't need to get a name. It was his brother. Sounds like your ex served him up a shit load of spiel an' screwed him over, Harry."

It took a moment to properly sink in and when it did, Harry felt quite sick.

"Robert wouldn't have done something like that knowingly," she balked, "not to Jonnie!"

"What, you're defending him now? From what I've heard of Robert Makepeace, he's capable of just about anything."

Harry raked her fingers through her blonde hair, sitting with her head bent forward in her hands for a moment, staring at the table. "No. Just because he gave him a bad tip-off doesn't mean he intentionally sold Jonnie down the river."

"That's true. It doesn't," Dempsey replied evenly. "But it needs looking into, right?"

When she didn't respond, he inclined his head a little, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Right?"

"I suppose so… yes, of course. But let Arnby deal with it as part of the investigation. Promise me you're not going to go asking Robert questions."

Now it was Dempsey who didn't want to make eye contact.

"Promise me, Dempsey?" she asked beseechingly.

"Why? You afraid the conversation might get heated?"

Of course she was. She knew it wouldn't take much to light the blue touch paper and if Robert put two and two together and realised that Dempsey was off the case due to his involvement, he'd make sure they hung him out to dry. Dempsey had no notion of Robert's capabilities.

"I'd rather not have any dealings with him if I can possibly help it and I think your getting involved would antagonise him."

She could see he wasn't happy but at least that meant he was resigned to complying with her wishes. For good measure, she reached her hand across the table, massaging his hand lightly with her fingertips.

"Promise me, James."

His lazy smile sent a warm throb through Harry's heart.

"Don't gimme those eyes," he warned affectionately.

"I don't know what you mean." Her smile matched his as she stood with the slight tug of his hand to round the side of the table and drop into his lap.

His arms enveloped her, tightening about her body as she settled into him and Dempsey nestled his cheek against the top of her head.

"Those eyes worry the hell outa me," he chuckled.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, for the first time since the early morning feeling quite calm if not totally relaxed yet.

"They got this ability to take away my free will."

"Good," Harry said lightly. "It means we don't have to argue then."

"Who's arguing?"

"Well, you still haven't promised me you'll leave my ex-husband alone," she pointed out.

"You make it sound like you're expectin' me to hunt him down an' beat the crap outa him!"

"But I know you wouldn't do that," said Harry with a wilting sarcasm, "because it wouldn't do either of us any favours now would it?"

"Would give me one helluva lot of satisfaction though."

"Believe me, he isn't worth grazing your knuckles on."

Her hand came up to join his at her waist, the pads of her fingertips stroking his knuckles.

"That's why baseball bats were invented," he grinned.

"Don't even jest! You're already in hot water if they find out you've been obtaining information through SI-10 after you've been relieved of duty. And I know for a fact Robert wouldn't think twice about reporting you."

"So you're just gonna hope that the gang at The Yard find it out all by themselves tomorrow, huh?"

"I can drop it into the conversation, I'm sure," she sighed.

Dempsey wasn't convinced though. "What, 'Oh, I just found out my ex was the one who scuppered Jonathan's business earlier this year but don't ask how I came by that information'?"

"I don't need to be quite that blunt, do I?"

"Don't see it would do any harm if I was to nose around a little."

"No."

There was something in her quiet tone that made him realise how serious she was and he fell silent, an ugly little worm crawling inside his ear asking if there was something he was missing, something she wasn't telling him.

"I don't give a damn about him. If he was involved in some scam or other, I hope he gets put away for it – not that that would ever happen; he's too clever to let himself be caught out." Her fingers curled around his other hand that clasped her knee. "But I won't have him drag you down with him… because that's what would happen, James, believe me."

"Okay, I hear ya," he said softly. He picked up on the undercurrent of love that flowed beneath the vehemence and felt the kind of reciprocal glow that had always been such a rare occurrence in his adult life. It was such a beautiful feeling, this brand of euphoria and yet it scared him like nothing else could.

As he kissed her head tenderly, she lifted her face to him, her eyes slightly swimmy, her full lips devoid of their usual wash of colour, parted, giving her the appealing look of an innocent.

"Whatever you want, baby," he told her.

Those soft blue eyes searched his speculatively but then she looked away and nestled her head against his collar bone.

"I just want you."

That choked him up.

"You got me," he said simply.

Like a perfect flower, her words blossomed in his mind, the petals folding back and opening up to display a breath-taking world, complex layers that made up an unflawed existence. Was Dempsey fit to pluck such a matchless specimen? Would he crush it, see it wither and fade in his hand? How deserving was he, how capable of preserving that fanciful life that appeared to be his for the taking?

He knew how tired she was. He could see the fragility in her eyes. He'd had a bad day himself. Not just the hard slog of it but the mental rigor.

So when she slowly pulled herself away to rise from his lap, Dempsey fully expected her to return to her own chair. But instead, he was pleasantly surprised to find her quickly shimmying out of her tight-fitting pencil skirt and turning back around to sit astride him.

Before he could even express his approval, Harry had leaned forward and taken possession of his mouth, effectively ending any further conversation.

At the moment of letting go, she cried out his name; literally cried, a faltering, heart-wrenching wail, like her life was ending. But her eyes blazed and she held onto him, dragging him with her so that for a split second, they fused in a silvered shiver of purity.

For a few minutes, Harry remained where she was, her head against his neck, clinging on whilst her panting reduced down to deep, contented breaths.

Eventually, Dempsey sat her up and teased away the few strands of flaxen hair that clung to her face.

"Better?" he asked.

He wasn't fool enough to believe that had all been about him.

She nodded, a glimmer of shyness in her smile despite her unreserved behaviour.

No promises, Harry. I ain't gonna lose you now.