Quintin Jardine - A Rush of Blood

‘And have the TV cameras pick you out again? You didn’t like it last time that happened.’

‘But neither did the First Minister. He kept glowering up at me.’

‘That was for the cameras too; we had a laugh about it afterwards. He and I get on fine on a personal level. You’ve met him. What do you think?’

‘Clive Graham? On the same personal level? I like him too. On a political level, he’s pro-police, and that’s fine with me.’

Aileen sipped her tea again, found it cooler, and drank some more. ‘And is everything else fine with you, Chief Constable Skinner?’

He smiled at her, from the eyes. ‘I’ve never been happier, my love. I got quite misty-eyed when Jim Gainer blessed our union.’

‘So your daughter noticed. I didn’t, though; my own vision was a bit blurry at the time. But I didn’t mean at home. You’re six months into your new job. Are you fine with that?’

He slipped his empty cereal bowl into the dishwasher, tossed what was left of his tea into the sink, put his mug on the rack, and closed the machine. ‘Truthfully, I’m enjoying it far more than I thought I would. I’ve got a team around me that’s pretty much hand-picked, and I can do the job the way I want to, spreading myself around without getting tied down by paperwork and meetings. Brian Mackie’s the perfect deputy from that point of view, and Maggie Rose is settling in as well as I knew she would as assistant chief. With them, and those two monsters that run CID reporting directly to me. . I reckon I’ve got the best team in the country. With them to lean on, any idiot could do my job. So yeah, I’m fine.’

‘But restless?’

He frowned at her. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘The idea that you could even contemplate taking the time to come and watch me this lunchtime.’

‘I was kidding. Honest.’ He hesitated. ‘If I seem fidgety, it’s probably because everything’s going too well. Since that fuss last August, there’s been barely a ripple on the surface of Greater Edinburgh.’

‘See, you are doing a great job.’

‘Nobody’s that great. I really don’t like it when it’s as quiet as it’s been. It usually means we’re missing something.’

‘Nah! You’ve scared the bad guys shitless; that’s all there is to it.’

‘If only.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Come on, we’d better say “So long” to the kids and be on our way, or we’ll catch the worst of the traffic.’

‘That’s all right,’ she chuckled. ‘You’re the chief, you can put your blue light on the roof.’

‘ This is going to sound terrible,’ the woman began, ‘but what’s your name again?’

Her companion, propped up on his left elbow, grinned down at her. ‘Sauce,’ he said.

‘No,’ she chuckled, ‘my memory’s not that bad. I meant your real name. It was noisy in that Indigo place last night; I couldn’t hear you properly when you told me.’

‘It’s Harold,’ he murmured, as if it was a confession. ‘Harold Haddock. Hence the nickname, get it?’

‘Have they always called you “Sauce”?’

‘From my first day at nursery school.’

‘Nobody ever calls you Harold, or Harry?’

‘Most people don’t even know that’s my name.’

‘I’ll call you Harry, then, from now on. . unless you hate it, that is.’

He slid his free hand under the duvet and fondled her left breast, tracing his thumb round the areola. ‘You can call me anything you like.’

‘Harry it is, then.’

‘Fine. Now it’s your turn to own up. Why do they call you “Cheeky”, Ms Davis?’

‘It’s my name.’

‘No more than mine’s “Sauce”. Come on, what’s it short for?’

She pouted. ‘Not telling you.’

‘Why not?’

‘Because I hate it.’

‘It can’t be that bad.’

‘It is.’

‘Let me guess.’ He knitted his brow. ‘How about “Rumpelstiltzkin”?’

She laughed. ‘Don’t be daft.’

‘OK, let’s try “Chiquitita”. How about that?’

Her eyes widened. ‘How did you. . Here, did you look in my bag at my driving licence while I was asleep?’

‘No,’ he protested. ‘It was a guess, honest.’

‘Clever boy, eh. If you guessed that you must be able to work out the rest. My mum was a big Abba fan. She saddled me with it. When I was wee my grandma called me “Cheeky” and it stuck.’

‘Hey, it could have been worse,’ Sauce pointed out. ‘It might have been “Waterloo”. Imagine being called after a battle, or a railway station in London. And as for “Fernando”, that definitely would not have worked.’

‘You won’t tell anyone else though, will you? How about I keep calling you “Sauce”, and you keep calling me “Cheeky”?’

‘That’s a deal.’

She slid closer to him. ‘It’s nice this, finding out things about each other.’

He nodded. ‘I know lots about you already, though.’

‘Apart from my real name, you mean?’

‘Sure. For a start, you’re not a real blonde.’

‘And you’re the only guy who’s ever found that out the same night I met him.’ She reached for him. ‘Whereas you, you’re ginger all the way down.’ She drew a deep breath. ‘Or up, as the case may be.’ She paused, frowning slightly. ‘I mean that, you know. This is not typical behaviour for me. I’ve always been a hard nut to crack, yet here I am back at your place and doing the deed. .’ she glanced at her wristwatch, all she was wearing apart from a fine gold neck chain, ‘. . less than twelve hours after we met. I should feel like a hooker, but I don’t. Maybe I’m a mug, though.’

Gently, he smoothed her hair back from her forehead. ‘No,’ he said, solemnly, ‘you’re not. . you’re neither. This may sound like a line, coming from a guy, but this is not what I do either. I won’t say I’m a puritan, I’ve had a few girlfriends, but I’ve always been a “one step at a time” sort of bloke. I could not believe that it was me coming on to you last night, but I just couldn’t help myself. I’ve never known anything like this, or anybody like you.’

‘And you seem to be finding out more about me all the time. Go on, then, what else have you discovered?’

‘You’re not from Edinburgh.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because you said it was your first time at Indigo. It’s the best club in town. A girl your age, if she was local, would have been there before now.’

‘All true. And what age am I then?’

‘Not so easy. Twenty?’

‘Thank you, kind sir. Actually I’m twenty-two. And you?’

‘Just turned twenty-five.’

She felt his bicep. ‘And strong with it.’

‘I work out, plus I play a lot of golf.’

‘Are you any good at golf?

‘Category One.’

‘What does that mean?’

‘It means good.’

‘So, you’re an ace at outdoor sports as well as indoor. That’s something I’ve found out about you. Any more about me?’

‘One last thing. You’ve got lousy taste in friends.’

She frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘Because the one who took you to Indigo must be a right slapper, if she pulled, then buggered off and left you on your own.’

‘I can look after myself.’

‘I’ve heard a few girls say that, even after they’ve found out different.’

Cheeky drew herself up, until they were eye to eye. ‘And where have you heard them?’ she asked, quietly.

‘In my job. I’m a police officer, a detective constable.’ He watched her face closely, looking for the reaction that he had seen too often before.

The only change in her expression was a coy smile, so faint that it only just touched the corners of her mouth. ‘Mmm,’ she whispered. ‘Are you indeed?’