Nick Oldham - Dead Heat

He was, he had to admit, beginning to miss being a cop. He felt like he was in limbo, trapped and unable to do anything. If only he had a crystal ball and could forecast his future — one way or the other — he would be a whole lot happier.

As he read the story he became aware of someone standing in front of him. When he looked up, for some reason it was not unexpected that it was Charlotte’s mother.

‘Hello,’ he said.

‘Mind if I join you?’

He shuffled uncomfortably in the plastic chair. ‘Er, not at all,’ he frowned.

She sat opposite, cradling her mug of steaming coffee in her hands. She placed a plastic lunch box down by her feet. She blew on the hot liquid. ‘I’m Charlotte’s mum,’ she said. Henry nodded. ‘And you are Leanne’s dad.’ He nodded again. He closed his newspaper. He had moved on to a story about Blackpool and its planned regeneration as the Las Vegas and gambling capital of Europe, which he doubted would ever happen. He folded the paper to one side and gave his attention to the lady sitting opposite, who, he noticed for the first time at such close range, was extremely attractive.

She had well-cared-for, shiny, bobbed blonde hair, wide blue eyes, a slightly flat, elf-like nose and a full mouth which looked very biteable. Her chin was the feature that, if anything, let her down. It was slightly square and jutting, giving her face a hard edge that, as Henry appraised her more, took away the first impression, but only to a few degrees. She was dressed sloppily in loose sweatshirt and jeans.

It was the first time he had ever been so close to her. He had been aware of her dropping Charlotte off in the past and picking her up again an hour later, but he had only seen glimpses of her in one of several classy motors. He got the impression she was good looking (and knew it) and was obviously loaded, but had thought no more about her. In his newly adopted role in life of being a devoted husband and loving father — as opposed to his former mantle of adulterer and absent parent — he had surgically cut out registering the presence and possibilities of other women. All he wanted now was a simple life without complex entanglements and he never thought about other women any more. At least that had been the case for the last four months and it was his intention for it to be so for the rest of his life.

He assumed that, for whatever reason, Charlotte’s mum was having to stay on site to wait for her daughter today instead of dumping her and collecting later, and all she wanted was to pass the time by chatting with someone caught in the same situation.

‘Your daughter’s riding is coming along well.’

‘Thanks,’ said Henry. ‘She’s really keen.’

‘Charlotte’s been riding for some years now and wasn’t getting any better. That’s why we decided to bring her here so she could see how other girls were getting along, maybe help her get better.’

‘Oh,’ said Henry, uncomprehending.

‘Since meeting Leanne she has improved.’

‘Good,’ said Henry, still puzzled about what was going on here. ‘She was at another riding school, then?’ he probed.

‘No, we gave her lessons at home.’

‘In the living room?’

‘No,’ she laughed. ‘We have stables and a small indoor arena.’

‘Oh, right, of course you do.’

‘You’re confused. .’ The woman held out her hand. Henry shook it. It was hot from holding the coffee. ‘My name’s Tara. . Tara Wickson.’

‘Pleased to meet you. I’m Henry Christie.’

She had shrugged when she said her name, in a gesture which seemed to suggest Henry should know who she was.

He did not and knew she would have to reveal more if anything further was likely to dawn on him. ‘Wow. . you’ve got your own stables,’ he said for something to say, trying to sound impressed.

‘Yes, we have a couple of race horses and some jumpers.’

Henry’s face showed shock and distaste. He could no longer hold back his feelings.

‘You don’t like horses,’ Tara said with a lop-sided smile.

‘Can’t think of one horse on my Christmas card list. I suppose they’re a necessary evil, especially if you’re learning to ride.’

Tara Wickson’s nice smile continued unabated. She looked into his eyes. He gulped and glanced quickly down at his hands and coughed uncomfortably. He checked the time. Twenty minutes to go. Then he thought that maybe he was being stupid and arrogant. Just because a woman looked directly at him did not mean she was gagging to go to bed with him. You arrogant bastard, he thought about himself and raised his eyes. She was far too young for him anyway.

She was sipping her coffee, her eyes still on him over the rim of her mug. Nice eyes.

‘You’re a policeman, aren’t you? Charlotte said Leanne had told her. A detective? Am I right?’

‘Sort of.’ He suddenly felt quite awkward. What else had Leanne told Charlotte?

‘Are you on special leave, or something?’

Henry guffawed. ‘Or something,’ he confirmed coldly.

‘Oh sorry, I’m treading on thin ice here, aren’t I?’

Henry opened his mouth to say something, thought better of it, shut it and grinned.

‘Leanne hasn’t actually said very much, in case you’re worrying and planning to beat her soundly later.’

‘Kids talk,’ he said philosophically. ‘I wouldn’t want to gag her.’ Then he made a snap decision and didn’t know why. He said, ‘Yes, I am a policeman. I am a detective, but it’s not special leave. I’m suspended from duty. I’m being investigated, you might say.’

Tara leaned back and eyed him thoughtfully. ‘For dishonesty?’ she asked bluntly.

He shook his head. ‘Stupidity. . lack of judgement. . disobeying a lawful order.’ Then he quickly clammed up. Why was he telling her this crap?

‘To be honest, I already know,’ she said.

‘Oh.’ He put his mug to his mouth and swigged from what was an empty receptacle. ‘Mm,’ he murmured, glaring into the mug.

‘You’re very prickly about it. I can understand that. It can’t be an easy time for you.’

‘No, but I’ve had lots of holidays out of it.’

‘So Leanne said.’

‘I will beat her soundly after all,’ Henry decided.

‘Are you bored?’

‘What? Here and now? Or with the situation I’m in?’

‘Bored by the amount of time you now have to kill.’

‘It is getting to me. Good at first, all that time to loll about, then it begins to pall somewhat. A bit like retirement, I would think.’

‘How do you fill your time?’

Henry looked at her square on. His expression told her that enough was enough. Even he wasn’t sure how they had got here, but he felt it was time to call a halt to the conversation. He had said enough to someone who was just a stranger. ‘How do you fill yours?’ he asked.

She blinked and said openly, ‘Shopping. Dining out. Sex. The usual, you know? When you’re rich, that is. Oh, horses, too.’

‘You’re rich then? You wanna tell me?’

‘Not really.’ Her voice was suddenly as tight as a closed drawbridge.

‘Shall we talk about the kids?’ Henry suggested, picking up on her vibes.

‘No,’ she snapped, then relaxed. ‘Look. . time to come clean, Mr Christie. I’m actually not just here for personal chit-chat, as pleasant as that may be. I’ll tell you my problem and I wonder if you could help me.’

‘Tell you what, let’s do it over a new cup of coffee each. I’m old-fashioned like that.’ He picked up the mugs and bought two new brews.

‘Thanks.’ She curled her fingers around the mug again like it was a comfort blanket. Henry noticed her nails were beautifully manicured and wondered if caring for her body was in her list of activities. She looked exceptionally well groomed. ‘I’ll be honest, I have asked around a bit about you before coming to see you. You come highly recommended.’