Michael Fowler - Cold Death

Michael found himself staring again and he had to mentally check himself. You daft pillock, she’s only agreed to go out for a meal. Behave yourself you’re acting like a love sick teenager.

“What’s Hunter like? Is he a good cop?”

“Very — one of the best I’ve worked with. Completely dependable and a good DS as well — can get the best out of anybody. Sails a little bit close to the wind sometimes but he’s good at covering his back. I’ve had to pull him up a couple of times when the District Commander has got a whiff of his antics, but I always back him and give him a little rein because he always gets results. He’s never let me down yet.” He took another drink of his beer and picked up the menu. He was feeling hungry.

He scanned the selection; he could only just make out the choices without his reading glasses. “Have you decided on what you want to order?” Michael waved the menu. “I can recommend the mussels as a starter. Cooked in brandy and cream — I had them a couple of months ago.”

“Yummy sounds good. I’ll give them a try.”

“I’ll tell you this for nothing,” continued Michael setting down the menu, “Hunter will be devastated when he finds out this business with his old man. I do know how close he is to Jock. I’ve drunk in their company and trained with the pair of them. I’m shocked myself about what’s gone on. Until you turned up at my office and we had that conversation the other day I had no idea about Jock’s past.”

“Oh well c’est la vie. Anyway less of the job talk for now and let’s order I’m ravenous.”

Michael watched her long fingers clasp the wine glass and set it against her ruby glossed bottom lip whilst she scoured the menu. He realised it had been years since he had felt like this.

The conversation flowed easily as they ate, Dawn occasionally falling into fits of giggles as he regaled her with some of his faux pas early on in his career. Inevitably as the evening went on some of the chat focussed on aspects of their job before finally coming around to their personal lives.

Michael opened by explaining that he had been divorced for eight years. “I was furious at the time because I never saw it coming, but when I look back on it now I can’t blame her. I suppose you could say I’m married to my job, and I do love it. I’ve always been a detective and I’ve just never taken my foot off the pedal. Even when we went on holiday with my son and daughter I couldn’t wait to get back to work. The worst thing I had to reconcile myself with after the split — and I’ve managed to do it slowly over the years — is that deep down I know I’ve brought this all on myself.”

“Do you still see your ex and the kids?”

“Yes. She’s remarried now. But to be honest, we probably see more of each other than when we were married. I get the odd invite to go round for a meal. And I also get to see the kids as much as I want. They’re teenagers now and I keep telling myself to ease off the job otherwise I’m going to miss the best times of their lives.”

“So why don’t you do it. What’s stopping you?”

“I’ll let you into a little secret. I’ve put myself forward for a Detective Chief Superintendent’s post which I know is coming up at Headquarters. It’s less hands on, I know, and more nine-to-five but I can officially retire in three years time with a thirty year pension and I’ve promised myself I’ll go and spend more time with my son and daughter and pick up my life again.” He picked up the bottle of Merlot he had ordered with their meals, saw that it was still half full; they had talked more than they had drunk, and replenished their glasses. “Now I’ve told you my deepest darkest secrets what about yourself?”

Rolling her wine glass between the palms of her hands Dawn opened up by likening herself to him; a career detective devoted to work — but also ambitious. “I don’t mean to the point where I’ll trample over anyone to get what I want to achieve.” He saw that she appeared to be searching his face for a look of understanding to the comment she had just made.

Michael nodded approvingly — inviting her to continue.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not a hard-nosed bitch. It’s just that over the years some of the older end — especially male supervisors have dismissed me when I’ve wanted to take a particular route towards something, or they’ve taken credit for something I’ve done. So I just want to show them I’m as good as them or even better.” She smiled “Am I scaring you?”

He almost laughed. “Not one bit. I know exactly what you mean.” He took a sip of the red wine and then nodded towards her hand. “I’ve noticed the wedding ring. How’s your hubby cope with the job?”

He noticed Dawn’s eyes glass over. She set down her wine and began twisting the gold band around her finger. “He’s left me,” she replied. Her voice was suddenly brittle.

“Oh I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, you weren’t to know. You know what you said earlier about not seeing it coming — so wrapped up in your job. Well snap — that’s me as well. I found out a month ago. The bastard. He’d been seeing a colleague from his office for the last two and half years. When I thought he was away on conferences he was in fact screwing her in a hotel somewhere. It all came out after I took a phone call from one of the hotels where they’d stayed — he’d left behind his credit card.” She stopped twiddling with her wedding ring and picked up her wine glass. “He didn’t even try to deny it. Said it was my fault — I was never at home — always at work — and what did I expect. He’s moved in with her and consulted a solicitor — he wants a divorce.”

“Dawn I’m so sorry.” He fixed her teary eyes. “I know what you’re going through.” He raised his glass. “I know a good cure for the blues though — I’ll order another bottle of red. Let’s get drunk.”

For the next hour they continued drinking. Michael did his best to brighten her mood with more of his ‘office’ stories. It worked; she was soon in fits of giggles again.

Draining the last of his wine he peered over his glass and searched Dawn’s face. He studied her eyes and she returned his look with her own probing intent.

He reached across and lightly touched her hand. “I’ll order a taxi. Do you fancy coming back to my place — for a nightcap — instead of going back to your lonely hotel room?”

“Will we regret this in the morning?”

“I’ll regret it if you say no.”

A smile lit up her face. “You’ve talked me into it.”

His heart lifted.

DAY TWENTY FIVE: 17th September.

Barnwell:

Marcus Hill had been a police officer for fifteen years and he had developed ‘a nose’ for sniffing out when something wasn’t right. And as he watched the grey Ford Mondeo in the distance, circling, ever so slowly, around the recently cropped wheat field, he had that feeling that something was wrong.

Firstly, because the farmer who owned this field had a red Nissan Navarro, and besides he’d only ever seen the farmer’s tractor going around in that field. And secondly, there had been quite a few complaints over the years about fly-tipping in this locality. Thirdly, the lane just above the field was where a couple of burned out stolen cars had been found in recent months.

Marcus had spotted the Ford Mondeo two minutes earlier. He had been making his way back to the station for his meal, having spent the last twenty minutes driving around the countryside section of his beat — where the roads were less congested, and where the scenery was better. It had been an unusually quiet afternoon, and he was taking every opportunity to savour the tranquil moment — these instances were few and far between — especially on the afternoon shift.