Things to be done

The phone was ringing in her office, interrupting a lively debate between her and the boys about exactly what sort of a state she'd been in last week after the inaugural Monday boys night.

"How can it have been the first one anyway?" she asked as she retreated to her office. "We hadn't even agreed on it being a thing yet! Hello, Pullman?"

"Hiya, it's me, have you got a minute to come up?"

"Sure," she smiled. "Be there in a couple of minutes. Right," she returned to the sight of Brian and Steve teasing Gerry for his own hung-over Tuesday. "I've got to go upstairs, can you lot get the report and this office tidied up by the time I get back?"

"Depends how long he takes!" Gerry teased, winking at Brian and Steve who descended into giggling like teenage girls and making silly gestures to accompany the cockney's meaning.

"Shut up," she rolled her eyes and laughed as she left the office. Walking up the stairs to rejoin the ground floor and then through the necessary doors, corridors and more stairs; her thoughts danced a happy samba that Gerry's teasing was genuine once again. Life could be like this everyday, she smiled; waking up with Rob, family breakfast time, work and play with the boys. For the first time in the week since Brian's announcement, she allowed her mind to tip-toe toward what his replacement would be like. She had to find one first, and she wasn't looking forward to that. In fact, that was probably what Rob wanted to talk to her about right now. Her cognitions backed away from the gate they had approached, as suddenly as the idea had taken her with a Cheshire curiosity, now it was pointing a gun at her happiness. Unfortunately, she was there now at the door and she had to knock.

"Come in," his voice called from within. Professional, clipped, warm with a touch of gravel. The sort of voice that could wrap you up in a soft blanket or strangle a suspect at six inches. She shook her head slightly as she entered, his voice was not a viper!

He smiled and waved a hand at the seat opposite his desk as he finished a conversation on the telephone. She sat and politely only half listened to his side of the exchange which seemed to be a more than a little boring and trying. For once, his office was quite tidy. Often when she came in, there were stacks of papers and box files on top of filing cabinets and in strategic piles on the floor. But today, everything was clear; filed and tidy. Even the red wire in-tray on the corner of his desk, opposite his computer monitor, was empty. As he spoke into the handset of his desk phone she watched his fingers playing with the binding of his notebook. Sitting between her and the notebook was a photo-frame. Idly pondering what picture he had on his desk distracted her from needing to know what the pile of files next to his computer keyboard were. Filled with shiftless trepidation for the contents of those files, she sat patiently waiting for him to complete his dialogue.

"Absolutely, I agree, sir, but, yes, I know," he grimaced at Sandra, he really wanted this exchange to have finished ten minutes ago. But having been on the phone for eight and a half minutes now, he was really trying to wrap it up. "Definitely. Yes, I'll talk to…yes, I'll see you tomorrow Sir, ten o'clock. Ok, thank you, good bye. Christ," he exhaled as he replaced the receiver in its holder. "Sorry about that."

"Commissioner?" she inquired courteously.

"Yes," he glanced about distracted for the moment. His office was tidy at least, if only his mind could settle in such orderly civility. The commissioner wanted the lead position of the murder squad filling quickly; Rob had a handful of candidates in mind to put forward, one of whom was sitting opposite him right now. But there was a station that needed filling more urgently as far as she was concerned. "Anyway…"

"Are those…?" she pointed at the ominous pile of manila covers.

"Yes," he latched onto the subject and placed a hand on the pile. "Look, I know this is going to be hard for you. There's a list in there of all retired officers who have expressed an interest in a position at UCOS. There's also a few officers that I think ought to be considered who have retired in the last five years. Obviously, you're welcome to widen the field, advertise if you'd like. But these are the service records for a number of what I consider the most suitable candidates."

"How many have you got there?" she asked.

"Twelve," he answered succinctly and shrugged. "I can't promise that any of them will match up to Brian, but I think they probably broke the mould with him!"

She smiled and took the files that he passed to her. "I'll have a look at them."

"Thank you. I think we probably ought to be looking for interview next week. Unless you want to advertise," he optioned again.

She nodded. "Is it ok, I mean, I'd like to ask Gerry's opinion."

"Absolutely," he agreed fervently. "I'm assuming he will be acting as your deputy now. You don't need to run the shortlist past me either; I'd just like to observe the interviews. UCOS is your unit."

Honey-like warmth flowed through her. This time, being given carte-blanche over her unit, it actually meant something. It didn't hurt that the words came from the man that she loved and respected rather than Don-stupid-Bevan too.

"I have to ask," he hesitated, it seemed so insensitive to bring it up. Luckily, she saved him.

"I haven't had a chance to think it through yet," she admitted. "The Dawson job?"

"Ok, well, talk to the boys about it," he accepted. He didn't want to push her into the job, it would put more pressure on her, but she could handle pressure. It would be a headline in her career, but it was whether she wanted that. He knew her well enough that once she would have jumped at the job; he knew UCOS well enough that she needed to talk to the boys about leaving. Even if she hadn't realised that until now, if the look of dawning comprehension behind her eyes was anything to judge by.

Every single time, she thought. Every single time I think anything about this man, he surprises me again. Until Rob's simply supplied words, which weren't suggestive or accusing, she hadn't realised what had stopped her from thinking about the job. She needed to talk to the boys. There was just one other thing.

"I will," she promised. "Sir, there was just one other thing."

"Yes?" he cocked his head slightly, recognising the tone of her voice.

"Well, we'll have the report on the Alberts and Parks case ready by this afternoon. Then there's a case that…"

"Sandra," he looked her straight in the eye. "I know what you're going to ask. And you know what I'm going to say."

"That it isn't in the public interest to re-open a case for personal reasons. Sir, I'm not going to lie, I want to do this for Brian. But I don't want to bring it up if there's no chance of closure. If Gerry and me could just look at the case, see if there's anything …"

"Ok," he said slowly. "I'll have the file sent down."

"Thank you," she smiled. "I'll see you later."

He watched her leave his office and sighed. Leaning back into his chair he scratched the back of his neck. He stared at the photograph on his desk and let out a low whistle of breath. Mia and Bella smiled back at him. Shaking his head and pulling his phone toward him he lifted the handset and dialled. The things we do for family, he thought as he listened to the sound of the internal ring.

"Hello, this is DAC Strickland, I want to authorise the release of a file to Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman in UCOS. Yes, it's a death in police custody file, name of the victim: Anthony Kaye."