Carrie Grant

"Morning guv," Gerry walked into the office with his usual greeting. "Alright Brian?"

"Morning Gerry," Sandra replied.

"Alright," Brian glanced up. "Kettle's just boiling."

"That'd be my cue," Steve grinned as he followed Gerry's path to the kitchen corner. "One fresh bottle of milk and a packet of jammy biscuits as requested by the boss in the last staff meeting."

"You keeping minutes now?" Gerry rolled his eyes. "I told you, never trust a Scot!"

Sandra sighed and shook her head. "Morning Steve."

"Good morning Sandra, how are you today?" Steve winked as he turned his back to Gerry.

"Fine, thanks," she grinned. "And thank you for remembering the biscuits."

"Not at all," he parried. "Brian? How you doing?"

Brian raised his eyebrows. "I'm fine thank you. Good morning."

"'ere do you know who we saw down the pub last night?" Gerry asked as he handed out the coffee. "Dougie Taylor. Said he'd heard we'd been interviewing and wanted to know why we never called 'im!"

Brian let out a guffaw of laughter. "Him? Sorry."

"Why, what's wrong with him?" Steve asked taking his usual seat.

"What's right with him these days," Gerry mulled. "Nah, he's alright Dougie. He used to be pretty decent, but last time we saw him … he'd lost it."

"Said he'd gotten old," Brian recalled.

"No such thing," Steve exclaimed, stretching his legs out in front of him. "Old… pah! So when's the newbie starting, anyway?"

"Monday," Sandra said. "We'll have this case cleared up by the end of the week and then we can start something fresh. Meanwhile Brian is going to make a start on the yearly audit and then show you the systems for it."

"Why not me?" Gerry asked put out.

"Because Gerry, the mere word spreadsheet sends you into a state of fever," Brian dead-panned.

Steve and Sandra laughed. "Plus," Steve added. "You know your way around this maze of a city; send me out with the fresh blood and you'll only have to come out yourself and find us!"

"On the subject of fresh blood," Sandra began tentatively. "Strickland's sending us someone today to sit in with the interviews. Just as an insurance against any bias that could be levelled at us afterwards."

As she spoke the doors to the office opened once more and Rob entered followed by a woman whom none of them knew. Gerry mentally bit his tongue, while Steve politely stood up and Brian took his glasses off. Sandra held the sigh in her head, great, a woman.

"Good morning everyone," Rob said cheerfully looking around and received a chorus of reply. "This is Detective Inspector Carrie Grant, she'll be joining you for a day or two while you re-interview former officers. I take it Sandra has explained?" The boys nodded. "Excellent. Let me just introduce you, this is Detective Superintendent Sandra Pullman," the two women nodded to each other. "Gerry Standing, Brian Lane and Steve McAndrew."

"Carrie Grant?" Gerry inquired. "As in…?"

"My parents liked old movies," the woman spoke with a soft Yorkshire accent. "So they thought it was very funny when I married a Grant."

"Oh," Gerry replied. He was mindful of Sandra's eye on him, and was almost sure she could hear the younger man in him mentally adding the word 'married' next to her name in his mind. "Well, it's lovely to meet you."

"And you," she responded smiling. Gerry Standing. Her mother had warned her about him. Rightly so, she thought to herself, if she was a hell of a lot less married and he was a hell of a lot younger.

He was ninety per cent sure that she was sharing the same joke as Sandra, as he glanced across to his governor to see her own subtle smile in his direction.

"Grant? Your husband wouldn't be DCI David Grant, Armed Robbery?" Brian asked.

"That's right, do you know him?" she met his eye with her own open hazel ones. If she was at all nervous at meeting the legends that were UCOS, she hoped she wasn't showing it. Memory Lane was an almost mythical name to her generation; those that had been more than mere uniformed constables in the nineties.

"1992, he was one of the uniform officers that called us out to a scene. First night on the job, came across a murdered prostitute, blood everywhere. Poor lad looked quite green. I suppose he's seen a few worst since then," Brian smiled kindly at the woman. She looked petrified.

"Nice to meet you, Carrie," Steve stepped forward and offered his hand. "Would you like a cup of coffee?"

"Thank you, erm, milk one sugar, thanks," she shook Steve's hand. He was the one that had replaced Jack Halford. Not intentionally, though she suspected that Robert Strickland had been plotting something when he'd invited him down. The petrol station hold-up had been her case.

"Right, well I've got to get back upstairs, I'll leave you to it," Rob grinned and left the room. He was ninety-nine point five percent certain that he'd made the right choice. Carrie was a good cop; straight, discreet and discerning. And she had Sandra's approval. He'd seen that in the incontrollable grin behind Sandra's eyes as Carrie had engaged with each of the boys.

He was shagging Sandra Pullman. She was sure of it. But that wasn't the only reason he was smiling. Carrie carefully observed the older woman in the microseconds of silence that she had to do so; she was as much a miracle as the men she worked with. It was like being in Madame Tussauds, except that the waxworks were real people and that she was among them. No, the DAC was smiling because he knew that Sandra Pullman had done exactly what she, Carrie, had done. Taken the measure of the other woman and decided that they could work together. He was smiling, because he'd got it right. He knew it. And he knew he could demand getting-it-right privileges after hours. So the smile had a lot to do with the fact he was shagging her. But it wasn't the only reason.

"Right," Sandra addressed her now very occupied domain. "Gerry, Steve, what did you get from the prison yesterday?"