Mark Pearson - Death Row

‘No doubt … but I have had my share of work-based romance, thank you very much. And I have decided to pass.’

‘Michael Hills was a very different person to Danny.’

‘What … a psychotic delusional pervert and a murderer, you mean?’

Kate nodded, smiling. ‘Yeah, that.’

‘No, I’m going to keep my life simple for a while, Doctor Walker. Concentrate on the job.’

Kate grimaced. ‘There’s a lot to be said for it.’

Sally looked around. ‘And where is the DI, anyway?’

‘I don’t know. He was supposed to be here half an hour ago but, as you know, Jack Delaney is a law unto himself.’

Sally nodded. ‘Literally.’

‘So are you going to have a go, reveal your hidden talents, Sally?’

‘No way. I am keeping my light firmly under a bushel.’

‘Talk of the devil!’ said Kate as Delaney came in and threaded his way through the crowds to them. ‘Where have you been, Jack?’

Delaney looked uncomfortable. ‘I had to sort out a few things.’

‘Like what?’

‘Something I haven’t told you. But I guess you need to know. You deserve the truth. You deserve that much.’

Kate’s smile vanished, her heart suddenly leaden in her chest. ‘What are you talking about? What’s going on?’

Delaney looked over his shoulder and Kate’s mouth dropped open as she saw Stella Trent walk through the crowded pub, the case in her hand banging into people as she made her way through them.

‘Stella Trent,’ said Sally, surprised.

‘In the flesh!’ said the Irish woman brightly.

‘What the hell is she doing here?’ asked Kate, little spots of colour forming on her cheeks as she glared at the man she thought she knew.

Delaney shrugged sheepishly, not responding.

‘Sweet Jesus, Jack! What’s going on?’

Delaney looked at her. ‘Remember what you said, about there being no secrets between us any more …’

‘Yes,’ said Kate, her stomach griping like a clenched fist.

‘It’s time you knew.’

Delaney took the case from Stella and headed to the stage.

Stella, nonplussed, smiled brightly at the two other women. ‘I’ve been giving him lessons.’

‘Oh my God!’ said Sally Cartwright. ‘He’s going to strip.’

Kate turned to look as Delaney popped the clasps on the case and took out a large acoustic folk guitar which he slung around his neck and then walked up to the microphone.

‘I don’t believe what I am seeing,’ said Kate in a low whisper.

‘Believe it,’ replied Stella Trent, still grinning. ‘It’s the Man in Black.’

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ said Delaney loudly. ‘I present to you the chord of A-major.’

He positioned his hands on the guitar and the room was completely silent as everyone turned to look at him. Disbelief written plain on every stunned face. Delaney stepped closer to the microphone, looked straight at Kate and started singing.

‘ I keep a close watch on this heart of mine.’

Then he started to play the guitar.

‘I keep my eyes wide open all the time,

I keep the ends out for the tie that binds,

Because you’re mine, I walk the line. ’

And Kate laughed and realised her hands were clapping and she was not alone: the whole pub was cheering and clapping as well.

Delaney smiled and carried on walking the bass with his thumb and picking out the melody with his fingers. His voice wasn’t a million miles from Johnny Cash’s.

‘Go, cowboy!’ said Kate, her voice still a whisper but with a smile as bright as a supernova.

And he did.