Alex Gray - A Pound Of Flesh

‘Car’s nice and warm,’ he added, patting the leather seat next to him.

The door was open and she hesitated for the merest fraction of a second before scrambling in beside him.

‘Fasten your seat belt. Don’t want the cops to catch you,’ he told her with a complicit grin that made her smile back at him. Then, as the car accelerated into the night, Lily knew it was going to be okay after all. Perhaps it would only take a quick half an hour, maybe even in a nice hotel room? She pictured herself stuffing a wad of notes into her handbag. Easy money, the girls had told her, and maybe it was, Lily thought, settling back against the soft leather, glancing at the man who was to be her very first customer.

The day began frosty and cold, ice concealed by the slick of rain that had cleared away the snow. A sliver of crimson peered over blue-black clouds in the east, then tentacles of flame spread across the sky heralding another day, but with the warning of further poor weather to come.

Maggie filled the kettle at the sink as Chancer wound his furry body around her legs, his meows becoming more urgent as he waited for his breakfast. The central heating had been humming nicely for over twenty minutes and the kitchen was warm enough, but as Maggie opened the blinds she saw the morning’s rosy glow and shivered. These ink-black clouds surely held more snow? Well, Muirpark Secondary School was opening its gates once more and she’d just have to get a move on, have breakfast ready for them both and make time to defrost her car.

Since Bill had been at Pitt Street, Maggie had tried to make this hour a time for both of them. Even having something as simple as breakfast together was a bit special after all the years of early morning rises and very late homecomings that his job had demanded. Maggie Lorimer had hoped that the new post might have given her husband more of a steady routine to his day but with Edward Pattison’s murder such hopes had been severely dashed. Bill’s face had appeared regularly in the press and even on television where he had made a statement following the politician’s death. Once such matters would have caused a frisson of excitement and led to remarks in the staffroom, but nowadays Maggie took them for granted, more used to her husband’s high profile. Sure, there had been a bit of chat amongst her colleagues, but Maggie’s reticence always stopped too much speculation. Even Lena Forsyth had kept her mouth shut for once. They all suspected that she knew much more than she was letting on, but in truth Maggie was not always given the details of every case. She smiled as she laid the two places at the kitchen table. If Bill wanted to tell her anything then he would, but sometimes she felt as though he wanted to spare her the grislier side of such crimes as murder, especially since it had touched their own lives. The smile slipped as Maggie remembered the case that had brought so many police officers into her home…

Chancer reared up against her dressing gown, a gentle pat from his paws reminding her that his bowl was still empty.

‘What would I do without you, eh?’ Maggie grinned, bending down to stroke the soft fur on the cat’s head. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll get it right now,’ she added as he began to purr loudly.

‘Hi, you.’ Lorimer was behind her and his arms around her just as Maggie stood up from retrieving the cat’s bowl.

‘Hi, yourself,’ she grinned, then slipped out of his grasp to wash the bowl as Chancer’s meows became more frantic.

Once the cat had been fed Maggie let her husband’s arms encircle her once more, closing her eyes for a moment, her head nestled in against his chest, luxuriating in the feel of his warmth, knowing that such caresses were fleeting as the clock ticked inexorably towards the time when they would both have to leave for work. But in that moment Maggie Lorimer felt completely safe and calm as she allowed her body to relax into his.

Words from a poem she was teaching to her third-year class for next week’s Burns Supper came to mind, causing her to whisper them aloud:

‘But pleasures are like poppies spread,

You seize the flow’r, its bloom is shed;

Or like the snow falls in the river,

A moment white — then melts for ever,

Or like the borealis race,

That flits ere you can point their place;

Or like the rainbow’s lovely form

Evanishing amid the storm.

Nae man can tether time or tide:

The hour approaches Tam maun ride.’

Her sigh deepened as she extracted herself from his arms.

‘Neither time nor tide waits for any man or woman,’ she sighed. ‘Not that rascal, Tam O’ Shanter, or your good wife who has to be in Muirpark to teach her classes in just over an hour.’

‘Right, woman,’ Lorimer laughed. ‘And I’m at the beck and call of our first minister again this morning. Maybe see you later on tonight?’ His wry smile said it all. This life of his with long hours spent away from her side was so at odds with Maggie’s ordered day. While she was busy with classes that came and went according to bells ringing every fifty minutes, Detective Superintendent Lorimer could be asked to get himself over to the Scottish parliament at Holyrood or attend a crime scene anywhere within the vast region of Strathclyde. Yet somehow they managed to make it work, she thought, watching as he left the room.

Maggie’s smile deepened as she thought about her preparations for the seventh of February. Bill being away so much had had the advantage of helping her bring her plans to fruition. She had invited most of his old colleagues from the city centre division as well as friends like Rosie, Solly and Flynn. Even the deputy chief constable had been invited, something Maggie had decided on so that Joyce Rogers would ensure the party was not spoiled by work. Maggie suddenly thought of another woman whose stern face appeared so often on the television screen; no, she certainly wouldn’t be inviting Felicity Stewart to Bill’s fortieth. And, hopefully, this case would be finished by then. Glancing at the calendar on her kitchen wall, Maggie realised that Burns Night was drawing closer and after that there would be less than two weeks until her husband’s party and the surprises she had planned.

There were no surprises in Edinburgh by the time Lorimer’s driver drew up outside the massive building at Holyrood. The snow on this side of the country was taking longer to clear and there were still piles of frozen ice caught in the angles between pavements and gutters. Although the paths outside the parliament were well swept they were gritty underfoot as Lorimer strode into the warmth of the building and made for the reception desk to collect his security pass.

‘Back here again, Superintendent?’

Lorimer spun on his heel at the Glasgow accent behind him.

‘Mr Hardy,’ he said, slowing down to let the other man approach. ‘Yes, I have a meeting with Ms Stewart.’

‘Wonder she finds the time, what with her Russian delegation arriving today,’ Hardy muttered sourly. Clearly there was no love lost between the nationalist leader and the socialist MSP.

‘Russians? Any special reason why they’re here?’ Lorimer ventured.

‘Aye, her ladyship’s Burns Supper up at the castle on Wednesday night,’ he said, raising his eyebrows. ‘Even the dear departed aren’t going to stop her holding that particular event,’ he continued as they walked up the staircase, side by side. ‘This lot are from St Petersburg. She went over there last year and is ostensibly returning the compliment. We usually have an event like that here but Felicity’s pulled strings to have it up at the castle instead. Making a big show of it. Fact of the matter is she’s desperately trying to negotiate a trade deal.’ Hardy grinned. ‘Maybe she’ll invite you to attend.’ He dug Lorimer in the ribs then passed him by, whistling a Scottish tune that was vaguely familiar.