Peter Helton - Falling More Slowly

‘There are no metal parts in this package and it looks like no device I have ever encountered. There is a dense mass at the centre, hard to draw any conclusions. On that basis I’m willing to proceed and open the package. Please stand off.’

The package, he could now see, was wrapped in brown paper and sealed with clear tape. ‘How did it get here, does anyone know?’

‘It was hand-delivered but no one saw it arrive. They sensibly evacuated the ground floor. It has your name on it, as you can see, nothing else.’ The man slid a scalpel around the sides of the package. ‘Nothing in the wrapping, no resistance.’ He gently folded up a flap of paper. ‘Red plastic container.’ He removed the top of the paper, revealing a red plastic tub with a white lid. The engineer laid his heavily gloved hands on it. ‘Here we go then, I’m opening it now.’

On cue the phones stopped ringing and the lobby fell silent. The plastic creaked as the engineer prised the lid off the container. McLusky strained to see clearly. The engineer produced a plastic screwdriver and gingerly prodded the content with it.

‘Well, inspector, it appears to be full of mud.’

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, while trying to beat the traffic by finding his own intuitive route to the university, McLusky wondered just how long the mud jokes would keep running at the station. Not that Superintendent Denkhaus had found anything even remotely amusing in the incident which had paralysed his station for hours. And he had left him in no doubt about that either. Denkhaus had once more sharply reminded him that his brief was to avoid anything that might sidetrack him and here he went offering his services to Traffic Division. Naturally he wanted the mud-flinging little scrote caught but if McLusky had a mind to have a go then it was definitely to be in his spare time.

Which is why he now found himself driving to the university during his lunch break, in order to spring some muddy suggestions on Dr Louise Rennie. This time he knew where he was going and parked close to the building next to a red Fiesta with its driver window knocked out. He left the keys in the ignition and went in search of Rennie.

For a while he was walking against an outgoing tide of students in the science block but by the time he found the laboratory again the place had fallen silent. From the corridor it looked empty. He knocked on the glass door and entered.

‘Anybody home?’

The door to the store room at the other end was open, its strip lighting on. A small tinkling noise came from there, then stopped. He walked over and stuck his head round the jamb and found himself looking at the balding head of the laboratory technician, who was standing motionless in front of a steel locker, one hand on its chromed door handle.

He found he couldn’t recall the man’s name. ‘Hi, Dr Rennie about?’

The technician turned around slowly and laboriously cleared his throat. ‘She’s gone to lunch.’

It was the man he had seen by the Tobacco Factory, he was sure of it, no matter what Dr Rennie thought. ‘Where?’

‘Common room.’ There was a definite wheeze to the lab rat’s chest and the pallor of his neon-grilled skin made McLusky want to shudder. He decided to ask elsewhere for directions.

Once he had been shown to the senior common room it took him only seconds to spot Louise Rennie. A man sitting opposite her talked animatedly while Rennie nodded at her lunch. She looked up long before he had got near her table. A few words spoken to the man opposite her made him get up and leave.

‘Don’t tell me, inspector, another forensic report? I may have to start charging.’ Rennie’s food looked as yet untouched.

‘Would you mind if I joined you for lunch, doctor? If I can get some food here, that is.’

‘Yes, go ahead. Just go and choose something. Don’t look so worried, you could pass for a lecturer, no problem. And you still have to pay for it.’

McLusky didn’t know why the thought of being mistaken for a lecturer should give him such pleasure since he didn’t mind being a detective. Until it came to canteen food. He asked for the trout and while piling salad into a bowl noted the complete absence of unidentifiable brown stuff shrivelling under hot lamps.

When he sat down at her table Rennie’s food still looked untouched. ‘You shouldn’t have waited, it must be getting cold.’

‘I found I’m not really hungry. Bon appetit , inspector.’ Rennie smiled, leaning back. Her grey silk top shimmered like water across her chest as she did so, tugging at McLusky’s eyes. ‘Is this a social call then?’

He waggled one hand. ‘Expect further attempts to impose on your time and good nature.’

‘You think me good-natured? Interesting. Does it have anything to do with what’s in your carrier?’

‘It has.’ He put his fork down.

‘No, no, you eat. You look like they’ve been starving you.’ She pushed her tray aside and pulled the bag towards her. ‘A tub. It’s heavy. What’s in it?’

‘Mud.’

‘You know how to treat a girl. How does this fit in with the bombings, inspector?’

‘You can call me Liam, doctor.’

‘You can call me Louise, Inspector Liam.’

‘It’s a different … case. I was wondering if it was possible to tell where it came from.’

‘Liam. Mm.’ She moved her lips as if savouring the taste of the name. ‘I do already have a job, did I not mention that?’

‘I know, that’s quite okay, you don’t have to do it, I just thought it was worth asking. I was hoping there might be a really easy test for that kind of thing.’

‘Did you now. Only if you’re looking for something specific or if you know what’s what. It’s a job for the forensic lab, surely.’

He reached over and put the tub back in the bag, shoving it aside. ‘Too busy. It’s low priority stuff. Not really important.’

‘Important enough for you to come up here, though. Oh, I get it.’

‘Good.’

‘You didn’t really need to bring an excuse along, you know.’

‘Good. So how are you?’

‘Fine, I’m good , I’m having a good day.’ She checked her watch. ‘I’m teaching a bunch of first years next, keen but dim. I enjoy it. And you?’

‘I’m enjoying this.’

‘Yeah, the food’s all right here.’

‘No, I mean this.’ He waved his hand between Rennie and himself.

‘You’re easily pleased.’

‘I don’t think so. I’ve been thinking about you. It was a shame our evening the other day got interrupted.’

‘Truncated would be a better word. Severely pruned. You arrived late and left early.’ Rennie reached an arm across and retrieved the mud-filled tub. She peeked under the lid and poked a well-manicured finger in. ‘Sticky stuff. I’ll spend five minutes on it and it’ll cost you dinner whether I find anything or not. Deal?’

McLusky smiled at his food. ‘Deal.’

‘Result, Moneypenny.’ Sorbie flung his imaginary hat towards the invisible hatstand in the CID room, then tried to plant a kiss on DC French’s cheek.

French pushed him away good-naturedly. She didn’t really mind Jack’s attentions, not that he actually meant them. No one else seemed to even notice that she was a woman, certainly not while the glamorous Fairfield was about. ‘You’ve been celebrating, I can smell it. You made another arrest then?’

‘Traffic scooped him up for us, but he’s ours. We can link the little scrote to at least eleven burglaries through his lavish and evil-smelling DNA donations in his victims’ underwear drawers, the stupid wanker. That’s the second outstanding warrant sorted and all from the council car park. We must do this more often. McLusky might be less than useless at catching the bench bomber but he does wonders for my clear-up rate.’