Chapter Two

14th August 1988

"You know something Chris? I'm really sick of listening to you moaning about that man. Anyone would think there were three of us in this marriage the way you go on about him."

Christina paused, toast halfway to mouth. "I don't go on about him."

"You do and, believe me, it gets a bit wearing after a while." Stewart looked up from where he was hunting around in a drawer and raised his eyebrows. "Burnside this, Burnside that. This is what he said to me today, isn't it ridiculous..." he shook his head. "We all have crap bosses, but you just need to get on with it."

"Well thanks very much for the support. I suppose you think it's fine the way he speaks to me, not to mention the way he treats me, which, by the way, he wouldn't do if I was male." She shook her head vigorously. "Honestly, sometimes I just wish..."

"There you go again," he interrupted her. "It's not even 9am and you're on about him. Look, I have to go or I'm going to be late. I'm not sure what time I'll be home tonight."

"So what else is new?" she grumbled. "And you're the one who keeps banging on about trying for another baby. You're never bloody here!"

He bent and kissed her quickly on the cheek. "I'll try and not be too late. Maybe we could have a go when I get in."

"How romantic," she said to his retreating form. The front door slammed and he was gone. As she sat in the silence, she thought back to the conversation they had had at the weekend about trying for a family. Stewart had thought it was a great idea, though deep down she suspected he was looking for a way, any way, to get her out of CID. There was no real reason why they shouldn't try, and after all, she had become pregnant by accident once already, but the Sergeant exam was coming up in January and she had been thinking of applying. Maybe promotion could get her away from Frank.

The very thought of him made her mood darken even more but, checking the clock, she realised she would be late if she sat around any longer and once in the car with the radio blasting she started to feel slightly better. The heat of July had cooled but it was still very pleasant outside and the sun was shining, enough to put anyone in a good mood.

It didn't last. Two minutes after setting foot inside the station, he had been on her like a limpet. "What time do you call this?" he demanded, looking at his watch as she came into the office. "Working on Christina time are we?"

"I'm not late," she replied, slinging her jacket onto the rack and putting her bag down on her desk. "In fact, I'm actually three minutes early."

"Bully for you," Frank said. "Don't sit down, we've got work to do."

"I've got plenty to be doing sitting down, actually," she replied, gesturing to her an in-tray that never seemed to get empty.

"Yeah well we need to go and see one of my snouts."

Christina frowned, "We?"

"Yes we." He tossed his car keys in the air. "You got a problem with that?"

"No, but you usually like to take these meetings on your own, don't you?"

"Yeah, but I could do with some feminine charm," he raised his eyebrows suggestively, "and Alfie's going to love you."

"Alfie Dobbs?" Jim Carver queried from his desk. "What's he been up to?"

"It's what he can tell us that I'm more interested in," Frank replied. "That's what being a snout is all about."

"Well can't I go with you Guv?" Jim asked. "I could do with some fresh air after looking at these post mortem pictures. You've no idea how depressing it is to..."

"No you can't," Frank interrupted. "You need to finish that report before I have some baboon from CPS giving me grief about it. Madam here can come with me. Like I said, I need some feminine charm and you're sorely lacking in that area."

"You could always ask Fraser if you could take June or Viv," Christina said, in a last ditch attempt to avoid being alone with him. "I've really got a lot to be getting on with and if I don't..."

"I am not taking June or Viv," Frank said. "Now will you just get your jacket so we can get on with it? I don't have all day to stand around here arguing with a hormonal female."

Before she could reply, he had left the room and she was forced to grab her bag and jacket and follow him, at speed, down the stairs, along the corridor and out into the car park. "What's the rush?" she demanded as he opened the car door.

"I thought you said you had lots of work to do?"

"I do."

"Then the sooner we get there, the sooner we can get back and you can get on with it," he reasoned, "so get in."

Christina did as she was bidden and for the first five minutes of the journey she was spared having to make conversation with him as he argued with Tom Penny over the radio about a suspect brought in the previous night and whether or not anyone from CID was remotely interested in dealing with him. As she watched the scenery go by out of the window, she wondered what Stewart was doing. No doubt his boss hadn't demanded he accompany him to see a snout, or referred to him as hormonal.

"So," Frank said once the issue was sorted to his satisfaction. "Got any plans for the weekend?"

"Erm...no, not at the moment," she replied, slightly bemused by the question. "I think Stewart might be working."

"Oh I see."

"What?"

"Well I had you down as the type of couple that might enjoy a nice meal out on a Saturday night or a drink in a posh wine bar with friends, that sort of thing."

"What do you think we are, yuppies?" He didn't say anything. "Stewart prefers the local boozer actually."

"What about you?"

She shrugged, "I don't mind."

"Do you always go where he wants to go?"

"No," she replied, slightly offended by the insinuation he was making. "Anyway, what are your plans for the weekend, or am I not allowed to ask?"

"Don't you worry about me," he replied cryptically. "I'm never lonely."

"No, I would imagine you wouldn't be. If it moves..." Frank glanced at her but said nothing. "Anyway, what are we going to see this Alfie Dobbs bloke about that needs my feminine charm?"

"He rang this morning and told me he's got some information about a drugs shipment." "Sounds mysterious. What else did he say?"

"Well he obviously wasn't going to give me the whole story without seeing the colour of my money, was he?" Frank said.

"But you trust him enough to make the call."

"He's been a good snout to me over the years. Always keeping his eyes and ears open. Knows which side he's bread's buttered, that sort of thing." He glanced at her. "About time you got yourself one or two if you plan on hanging around in CID."

Her hackles rose again, "Why wouldn't I be hanging around?"

"Well you're not getting any younger. Like I said to you before, maybe it's time you were pushing out a few kids." Frank pulled the car to a halt at the edge of the park and switched off the engine. "I mean, what are you? Twenty-six?"

"Twenty-eight," she replied, "not that that's..."

"Well it's worse than I thought. Better get a move on." Without a trace of embarrassment, he got out of the car forcing her to follow suit if she wanted to say anything else. "He said he'd be waiting under the bridge. Nothing if not clandestine is Alfie."

"What makes you think I even want kids?" Christina demanded, falling into step beside him, "Or that I can even have them for that matter?"

"Well, can you?"

"Can I what?"

"Have kids."

"Well I...I mean I managed to get pregnant once before but..." she broke off quickly, not knowing why she had said so much or why she was even having this conversation with him.

"But?"

"Do you know something, this is absolutely none of your business!" she found her indignation. "You wouldn't be having this sort of conversation with Ted or Jim now, would you?"

"Christ no, can you imagine thinking about little Carvers and Roaches?"

"So what makes you think it's appropriate to be having it with me?"

Frank stopped and turned to face her. "I was just making conversation DC Lewis. No need to get your fine expensive French knickers in a twist."

"You know something, sir, the way you speak to me is..."

"Is what? Disrespectful to you as a woman? Get over it darling. You'll need to if you want to make it in this job and something tells me you've heard far worse."

As he walked away from her towards the bridge in question, Christina had to stop herself from thinking how easy it would be just to push him off it. Oh he slipped, she would tell the others, her tone full of shock and sadness, there was nothing I could do...

"You coming or not?" he called back to her.

"Yes sir," she muttered under her breath, "coming sir."

XXXX

"He said what?" Jim spluttered over his sandwich in the canteen. "What did you say?"

"There wasn't much I could say," Christina replied. "But, do you know, I finally realised that I've been going about this all the wrong way."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, letting him get to me all the time. Clearly he's hoping I'll get so sick of his attitude that I'll quit or something and then he won't have to worry about having a hormonal female in CID."

"Would you?"

"And give him the satisfaction, don't be daft." She drained her coffee. "I was thinking about taking the Sergeant's exam in January though and then, if I get it, I'd be transferred."

"You can't leave Sun Hill," Jim said. "More importantly, you can't leave me with him."

"You'd be all right, you're a bloke. He's not on at you about getting pregnant or being hormonal."

"You know," he dipped his head so that only she could hear. "You could make an official complaint about him."

"Oh yeah?"

"I'm serious. I mean surely the kinds of things he's saying could be, well I don't know, sexual harassment or something. Given you're the only woman in CID I mean."

"So what do you suggest I do, Jim? Go to Brownlow and tell him I'm offended by Burnside suggesting I get pregnant? Leave it out. They'd laugh me out of the Met never mind Sun Hill. No..." she nodded thoughtfully. "I just need to toughen up a bit, fight fire with fire, that sort of thing. I worked bloody hard to get to where I am right now and I'm not going to let him ruin it for me. God I miss Galloway and that's saying something."

"When he said about you getting pregnant...did you tell him about the miscarriage?"

"No," she made a face. "Why would I? It was three years ago. Anyway," she stood up. "I'd better get on. He's got me chasing up leads on the strength of the info we got from Alfie this morning."

"Good was it?"

"Well the Fuhrer seemed pleased," she replied, "and I guess that's all that matters."

XXXX

"Well?" Frank demanded when she returned to his office an hour or so later. "Did you get anything from the collator?"

"Nick Fisher and Ralph Metcalfe," she replied, placing two cards down on the desk in front of him. "Both have previous for possession with intent to supply, both live on the Cockcroft estate and Metcalfe just got out of jail two weeks ago."

"So Alfie was right."

"So it would appear. Metcalfe owns a lock up at the back of Dorrell Road so chances are, that's where the drugs are right now. If Alfie was right about the arrangements, then the exchange is likely to take place tonight or early tomorrow."

"Well they won't do it in Dorrell Road, it's too public," Frank observed. "They'd have to move the drugs somewhere more discrete before the handover."

"According to PNC, Metcalfe owns a six year old blue Ford van though it's apparently SORN'd at the moment due to him being inside. I asked one of the units to take a quick spin round the Cockcroft and they said it was parked outside his flat."

"Right, what about the buyer?"

"David Nelson..." she shook her head. "Nothing on him at all, not even an address. Maybe Alfie got the name wrong?"

"No," Frank said, "he seemed very sure, even if was crawling all over you at the time."

"Hardly," she replied, thinking back to what can only be described as a very pleasant conversation with an older man in a leather jacket with clearly dyed hair. "Anyway, I've been thinking."

"Dangerous pastime for you ladies."

"Should we let the Drugs Squad know?"

"And have them take this away from us? No chance!"

"But..."

"Do you want to hand this to your hubby on a plate?" he stood up. "Set him up for another commendation or suchlike? Maybe you do, but I don't. This is going to be a Sun Hill operation. We'll set up an obbo on the lock up, follow the drugs and nick all three of them, or however many there are involved, when they make the exchange. So, better get yourself settled in for a long evening. I'll square it with Mr Conway."

"Right," she said as he left her standing in the office.

XXXX

"You didn't have to phone me at work to tell me this," Stewart said, his tone clipped. "I would have gathered if you weren't at home when I got back that something had come up."

"So you wouldn't have automatically assumed I'd been in some sort of accident then?" Christina queried, slightly put out by his lack of concern.

"No, I wouldn't. We don't all live on drama, Chris."

"I don't..."

"Look, I was going to be late myself anyway. Why don't we just say we'll see each other when we see each other? It's not that difficult, other married couples seem to manage."

"And there was me thinking you would be expecting me to be at home making your tea," she retorted.

"Oh grow up," he said. "If you've got some sort of guilt complex about working late that's on you, don't make it about me."

"What is wrong with you?" she asked, genuinely confused by his attitude. "Has something happened at work?"

"No, I'm just incredibly busy and I need to get back. I'll see you whenever." The dial tone buzzed in her ear and she realised he had hung up.

"Wow," she said replacing the receiver."

"Problem?" Mike Dashwood asked from his desk opposite.

"Do you something, the longer I know him the less I think I know him sometimes."

"Stewart?" She nodded. "Well he's all big and important in the squad isn't he? What is it, two commendations in the last year? I suppose his wife phoning to enquire about his schedule doesn't exactly fit his image."

"I wasn't phoning to enquire about his schedule, I was phoning to let him know I wouldn't be home, a courtesy I would have thought most couples would afford to each other in this sort of situation. Clearly, I'm wrong." Looking down at the papers on her desk, she lifted a report from the top. "Oh, well here's some good news."

"What's that?"

"Fingerprints from the building society job last month. They've matched Tommy Fulton and another bloke, Victor McDonald."

"Never heard of him."

"Me neither, but it should make the boss happy to know we've got something for that job. Is he still in with Conway?"

"Last I heard."

"Right," Christina lifted the phone, "let's see if the collator's got anything on our mystery man."

XXXX

"Are you sure the information's good, Frank?" Derek Conway asked suspiciously. "I mean, how reliable is this snout of yours?"

"He's one of the best," Frank replied. "He's never given me a bum steer yet and I don't see why he would now. All I need is a couple of uniforms to help with the arrest."

"And my sanction on overtime for how many from CID?"

"Well Jim, Chris and Mike should do it."

"Half the department then." Derek sat down at his desk. "I don't want another cock up Frank. Not after the building society job."

Frank smarted slightly, "Yes well we're still pursuing lines of enquiry on that. Tommy Fulton is still in the frame."

"I hope so. Otherwise a lot of time and money was wasted on nothing." Derek sighed. "I'll talk to Inspector Fraser and get you some bodies for tonight. What time are you wanting to start?"

"Nine o'clock."

"Fine. But I mean it Frank. I want a result on this."

"Yes sir," Frank turned for the door. "Oh and in case anyone asks, I did consider whether the Drugs Squad should be informed but I don't believe it's necessary."

Derek raised his eyebrows. "Who came up with that idea?"

"One guess. But then, she is married to one of them." Closing the office door behind him he made his way back along the corridor towards CID only to meet a smiling Christina at the door. For a moment, he paused. It wasn't often she directed any such expressions towards him and, he had to admit, she was quite pretty in a way. "What are you grinning about?"

"Forensic results from the building society," she said, waving a piece of paper at him. "Fingerprints match Tommy Fulton."

"What, inside?" he grabbed the paper from her.

"Yup, on the top of the counter and the underside, so if he was thinking of suggesting that he left them there whilst being a legitimate customer..."

"He'd have no excuse for them being underneath." Frank grinned at her. "Do you know something, I could kiss you for this!"

Christina's face dropped. "Please don't do that, sir. I really don't want to have to report you."