The sun was just starting to set on the horizon as Detective Inspector Alec Hardy made his way to the small bookstore to interview his last suspect for the day. He had saved Rebecca for last, and at the time he wasn't sure why he had been determined to do so. It was only now, as he was walking down Broad Street that he realized it was because he didn't want to rush this particular interview. Something about that young woman's smile had intrigued him. And at the same time it made him suspicious. Nobody could be that bloody happy at the drop of a pin like that. She had to be hiding something. At the back of his mind he knew he was over exaggerating things, again, but this was somehow easier to accept than the alternative, which was that he simply wanted to see her again.
She's a suspect, he told himself firmly. And you do not fraternize with suspects. But was she a suspect? Was she really? He had only spoken with her for a moment or two earlier in the day, had she really impressed upon him inklings of her guilt in that short amount of time? Not really, no, he thought grudgingly. It was just that she was new in town. Well, new-ish anyway. And new-ish people always ended up being suspects. Or at the very least, persons of interest. Interest. That was the key word here. Interest was what was drawing him to that woman, to see her again, to speak with her again, to find out if the room would light up again when she smiled or if it had been just a fluke. Which was not like him at all. To wonder in this way.
He scowled. How dare this stranger make him feel like this. He was Alec bloody Hardy, for Christ's sake. He did not get interested in random young women he had only known for five minutes. He adjusted his tie angrily. That settled it. He was going in, getting the information he needed from her, and leaving, most likely never to see her again. And that would be the end of it.
Feeling conflicted, he picked up the pace until he reached the address that Ellie had given him. He gazed up at the building. It was an older place, looked like it had been recently renovated. There was a small cart of used books sitting out front and he could see a selection of brand new books sitting in the large bay window. The blue awning above the store read, The Old Curiosity Shop , which brought a small, unexpected smile to his face. He held a door open for a customer who was walking out and strode through the door. There didn't seem to be anyone else around. He looked around the store, which seemed to be a combination bookstore and tea shop. There were large comfy looking leather chairs scattered throughout the floor near the bookshelves as well as a couple of tables and chairs for people to sit and enjoy their drinks while reading. It was a small place, but it was set up well, using the space efficiently. The air smelled pleasant, like lemons. He closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying a brief moment of respite.
"Hello, Detective!"
His eyes snapped open and moved to the counter where he heard his name. Rebecca was walking out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on a towel she had tucked into her pocket. She crossed the length of the store to reach him, and as she got closer he noticed the lemon scent growing stronger. It's not the store, he realized suddenly. It's her.
She held out her hand and he took it, slightly disconcerted that something as simple as a scent could cause such a sharp swerve of emotions from neutral to...something else which was entirely not neutral.
"It's so nice to see you again!" she exclaimed as they shook hands.
Only a prat would be this excited to see someone who was going to be questioning her about a murder case. He scowled.
She raised an eyebrow at him. "Wow, what's that look for? Did I do something wrong?"
He smiled grimly. "I don't know, why don't you tell me, Miss Foulks?"
Much to his annoyance she didn't seem to be rattled by his dour attitude. "Please," she said genially, "call me Rebecca. Would you like some tea?"
Try as he might he couldn't think of any sound reason to refuse. "Sure," he said.
She gestured for him to sit down and he chose the table closest to the window, keeping an eye on the passersby on the street, wondering which of them, if any, had any involvement in the Latimer case. Everyone was a possible suspect. He couldn't afford to botch this case up. Not after the last one. He rubbed his eyes wearily. He wasn't getting enough sleep, his mind too wired with the details of the case to be able to adequately relax. And yet he knew his doctor had told him he needed to remain as stress free as possible due to his health issues. Alec smirked. As if he would be able to keep the anxiety at bay while working on a murder investigation. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Rebecca reaching into a cupboard above the register to grab two mugs. As she stretched upwards her shirt rode up slightly in the back, giving him a quick flash of her pale white skin. His eyes involuntarily moved lower and he wistfully admired the way her arse looked in the jeans she was wearing. Alec tore his eyes from her as quickly as if he had been burned. Quit it, you old perv, he admonished himself. And don't forget she's possibly a suspect. But as harsh as he cursed at himself, he couldn't help but feel his eyes drawn to her once more. She had retrieved the cups and was currently filling them with boiling water. A few strands of her long brown hair fell over her shoulder as she poured, and Alec was seized with the sudden and inexplicable desire to walk over and tuck it back behind her ear. Something about the girl begged to be touched, that was for sure. He tried to attribute it to the fact that it had been so long since he had been with a woman, but that somehow didn't feel right. This went beyond sexual desire somehow, in a way he found hard to pinpoint.
"Here we are," she said walking over with both mugs, setting one in front of him and one in front of herself as she sat down across from him at the small table.
"Thanks," he said gruffly as he blew on the hot liquid and took a sip. His eyebrows raised in surprise. "This is pretty good," he said. "Well, at least it's pretty good compared to what the rest of Broadchurch has had to offer so far."
She let out an amused laugh. "Well, thanks so much. At least I think that was a compliment. With you it's hard to be sure."
"I don't hand them out often," he admitted.
She grinned. "Yeah, I figured that." She gestured to his cup. "It's nothing special, to be honest. Just an herbal tea. Chamomile, elderflower, and jasmine. I was hesitant to give you straight black tea to be honest."
"And why's that?"
She frowned. "You look exhausted. I figured the last thing you needed was more caffeine. You look like you could use a good nights sleep, and that tea will help."
He was oddly moved by her concern for him. He brought the cup up to his lips and inhaled a deep breath of the flowery aroma as he took another small sip. It was comforting. "I haven't been sleeping well, not since I got here." Now why in the hell did he just tell her that?
She nodded. "I can understand that. It must be a brutal thing, to be working on such a tragic case."
How in the hell did she take control of the conversation that fast? He must be more tired than he thought. He set his cup down. "Speaking of the murder case. Let's start with a few questions."
"Okay," she said. "Ask away."
"How long have you lived in Broadchurch?" he asked as he pulled a small notepad from his jacket pocket and flipping open the front cover.
"It'll be five years next month," she replied, taking another sip of her tea.
"And you're originally from the US, is that right?" He couldn't remember if Ellie had told him that or if she had.
"Yes, that's right," she said.
"Why Broadchurch?" he asked. "Why here? Seems like a big leap, going from America to here."
He saw her tense up, just for a second, before relaxing again. "I've always loved England, and I had reached a point in my life where I needed a fresh start." She shrugged. "This seemed like a good place to do so."
So in other words, you were running away from something, or someone, he thought as he took notes. I wonder what it is...
"Just how well do you know the Latimer's?" he continued.
"Beth comes in here a couple times a month, to pick up a new book or just to gossip. I've run into Mark a few times on the street or in the market. I know them, but not very well."
Alec jotted it all down. "And the kids?"
"Chloe's not much of a reader, so I don't see her very often. Danny comes in here every couple of weeks to look at comics. I mean, he used to come in every couple of weeks." She folded her arms. "I just can't believe he's gone. He was such a sweet little guy. And his poor family."
Her sadness seemed genuine. He wanted to believe her, and yet he knew that some of the worst sociopaths found it easy to fake that kind of raw emotion. "When did you last see Danny?" he asked.
She thought about it. "I guess about a week before he died? He was in here with a few of his mates."
"Did he seem like he was in trouble at all? Anxious?" He had a feeling that if there was something that had been out of the ordinary Rebecca would have noticed. She seemed to be pretty perceptive.
Rebecca frowned. "No, not at all," she replied. "He seemed normal to me."
Alec nodded. "Can you account for your whereabouts on the night he was murdered?"
She nodded. "I was here, tending the shop. I closed up around eight, had some dinner, and then read for a while before going to sleep."
"Can anyone verify that?"
"Are you asking me if I had anyone in bed with me that evening, Detective Inspector?" Rebecca asked.
Alec looked up sharply. He had been so involved with his line of questioning that he didn't even realize that he had asked that last bit. And that was exactly what he had meant by that question. And he wanted to know for reasons that had absolutely nothing to do with the murder case. Fortunately, she didn't seem offended in the least. If nothing else she seemed amused. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she took a nonchalant sip of her tea while waiting for his response.
Why was his bloody mouth so dry all of a sudden? He took another sip of tea. "Were you alone, Rebecca?" Her name felt personal on his lips. A little too personal.
A slow smile spread across her face. He felt his face warm in response. What the hell? What did it matter to him if she had spent the night alone or not?
"As a matter of fact," she replied, "I was alone. All night."
He cleared his throat. "Good, that's...good."
She bit her lip and grinned. "Is it?"
Was this flirting? Was she actually flirting with him? Couldn't be. Women did not flirt with him. Especially women like her. He couldn't help but stare at her lip between her teeth. He thought about biting it himself. He wondered how it tasted. How she tasted.
He stood up abruptly, startling them both. "I think that about wraps it up, Miss Foulks."
"Sure...if you say so, Detective."
She was quiet as she walked him to the front of the store. From what he gathered he figured he could officially rule her out as a suspect. Most likely this would be the last time he would be in contact with her. Which was fine, being that that was what he wanted.
Wasn't it?
He was a roiling mass of confusion, lust, and tenderness. He had no idea if he wanted to storm out and never see her again, take her in his arms and kiss her forehead, or push her up against the wall and shag her senseless. Probably a bit of all three. He was simultaneously bewitched and aggravated and how could one woman cause him so much of an internal struggle?
"The Old Curiosity Shop, eh?" he asked suddenly. He realized he was not quite ready to leave yet. He was grasping at straws, trying to draw out their last few minutes together. "Nice reference."
She clapped her hands in delight. "Do you know you are the first person to get it? I was starting to believe that no one enjoyed Dickens' anymore!"
He barked out a small laugh. "With all the internet and telly that people get wrapped up in these days, I wouldn't be surprised. Dickens is a classic author. One of my favorites."
Her eyes sparkled happily. "He's one of my favorites too."
They looked at each other, Alec becoming painfully aware of how close they were standing to each other. He could reach out and touch her, if he wanted to. Did he want her too? Did she? He remembered his fumbled attempts at seducing Becca a few nights prior and the humiliation of the memory was enough of a jolt to bring him to his senses. What was he even thinking? This woman was not for him. He turned from her and walked to the front door, yanking it open forcefully.
"It was really nice seeing you again, Detective," Rebecca said to him as she followed him to the door.
Alec's control finally snapped. "Are you always this bloody happy all the bloody time?" he asked. He wasn't even angry, he was just desperately curious to understand what made this girl tick. To understand why she was driving him mad.
She looked surprised at his question. "Well, sure. At least...I try to be. Life's so much better that way. Don't you think?
He looked at her in genuine bewilderment, unable to come up with a proper response.
She laughed softly. "For the last time, Detective, please call me Rebecca. And thanks for the company. I did enjoy it very much." She gave him a lopsided grin. "I'm sorry if you didn't feel the same."
She closed the door behind him before he had a chance to respond. He looked at the door for a moment, before turning and walking down the street towards the direction he parked his car. Well, that's that, he thought. She's not a suspect so there's no reason for us to see each other again. He suddenly realized that he hadn't even left her a card so if she did want to get in touch with him she wouldn't have any way to contact him. He should have felt relief, but what was coursing through his veins was something akin to frustration. And despair.
Despite the humid night air, he felt a lonely chill creep through him as he walked to his car in the moonlight.
~*~ To be continued