Simon Beckett - The Calling Of The Grave

I hesitated, then put down my bag. Sophie hugged me, her body tight against mine. 'I'm not always a very good person,' she said, her voice muffled.

For once I didn't want to believe her.

Dinner was surprisingly relaxed. That was largely down to Miller. He kept up a flowing banter, so that the meal seemed more like a social occasion than guard duty. Cross said little, smiling at her partner's jokes but content to leave the conversational running to him. Sophie had opened a bottle of wine to go with the lasagne she'd cooked – largely ignoring the suggestions from Miller – although only she and I drank any. The police officers declined without making a big deal of it, and I noticed that neither of them ate much either. They were there to do a job, and full stomachs slowed reflexes.

I hoped they wouldn't need them.

Naysmith had phoned earlier to check on us. The SIO was brisk and businesslike when I took the phone from Miller to speak to him.

'Is there any news about Monk?' I asked.

'Not yet.'

'I just wondered if something had happened to make you put Sophie under close protection. DI Roper didn't seem keen on the idea earlier.'

'DI Roper isn't the SIO, I am,' he said. 'We found Monk's fingerprints on the phone box, which confirms he's tried to contact her. As far as I'm concerned that justifies taking whatever measures are necessary.'

'I'm not complaining. I'm just surprised Simms approved it.'

There was a pause. 'As I said, I'm SIO. The ACC is too busy to be bothered with every operational detail.'

In other words the decision had been Naysmith's, not Simms'. Tensions between the SIO and his immediate superior were nothing new on any investigation, but I hoped they wouldn't get in the way.

'You've got two good officers there,' Naysmith went on. 'Their orders are not to take any chances, so whatever they tell you to do, you do it. No arguments, no debates. Clear?'

I said it was.

Monk wasn't mentioned during dinner, but despite Miller's best efforts the convict's presence loomed over the table like an unwanted guest. The police officers had checked the entire house, closing all the curtains so that anyone outside wouldn't be able to see in. And I noticed how they'd subtly engineered the seating so that they flanked Sophie, with Miller closest to the door and Cross between her and the window.

It was only afterwards, when the empty dishes had been stacked in the sink, that the reason for them being there was finally addressed.

Sophie reached for the bottle of wine. I shook my head when she made to refill my glass; she poured what was left into her own and set the bottle down with a thump.

'So how long have you two been doing this?' she asked, taking a drink.

'Too long,' Miller said. Cross just smiled.

'Do you always work together as a team?'

'Not always. Depends on the job.'

'Right.' Sophie was unsteady as she set down her glass. Suddenly she seemed drunk. I hadn't been paying attention, but she must have had more wine than I'd thought. 'So are the two of you… you know… an item?'

For once Miller seemed lost for words. It was Cross who answered. 'We just work together.'

'Right. Colleagues.' Sophie waved her hand at the guns holstered on their hips. 'Aren't you uncomfortable wearing those?'

Miller had regained his poise, but there was a faint blush on his cheeks. 'You get used to it.'

'Can I take a look?'

'Best not.' He said it lightly enough, although it was obvious that he wasn't happy. Cross was watching Sophie with her usual Zen-like calm, the blue eyes unreadable. But the atmosphere around the table had abruptly changed.

Sophie seemed oblivious. 'Have you ever used them?'

'Well, they like us to know which end the bullets come out of.'

'But have you ever shot anyone?'

'Sophie…' I began.

'It's a legitimate question.' She stumbled over 'legitimate'. 'If Monk walked in here, now, would you be able to kill him?'

Miller exchanged a quick look with Cross. 'Let's hope it doesn't come to that.'

'Yes, but if he did-'

'Who'd like coffee?' I said.

Miller seized on the opening. 'Sounds good. I'm ready for a caffeine fix.'

Sophie blinked, as though she were struggling to keep up. 'Coffee? Oh… right, sorry.'

'I'll get it,' I offered.

'No, it's OK.' She stood up but clutched the table as she suddenly swayed. 'Whoa…'

I reached out to support her. 'Are you all right?'

Her face had paled but she tried to smile as she straightened. 'God… what was in that wine?'

'Why don't you go to bed?' I said.

'I… I think I'd better.'

I went upstairs with her. 'How are you feeling?' I asked when we reached the bedroom.

'Just a bit woozy.' She was still pale but looked better than she had downstairs.'My own fault. All that wine when I've hardly eaten all day.'

Reaction was probably as much to blame as the wine. She'd been through enough to affect anyone, but I was mindful that she was still recovering from concussion.

'Are you sure you're OK?'

'I'm fine. You go back downstairs.' She smiled tiredly. 'I really am a rotten host.'

I went down to the kitchen. I could hear murmured voices but they fell silent as I approached. Miller was by the window, the curtain swinging as though it had been disturbed. Cross was leaning against the table, the denim of her jeans tight against her muscular legs. They regarded me with professionally bland faces.

'How is she?' Miller asked. I noticed he had his radio in his hand.

'Just tired. Has something happened?'

'Naw, I'm just checking in.' He slipped the radio away. 'That offer of coffee still on?'

I put the kettle on to boil and spooned instant coffee into three mugs.

'Not for me, thanks,' Cross said.

'Steph doesn't do tea or coffee,' Miller told me. 'Caffeine's poison, and don't even mention refined sugar. Two in mine, please.'

It had the sound of an old argument neither of them took seriously. Cross pushed herself off the table as I poured boiling water into two mugs.

'Time to do the rounds.'

I watched her go, then turned to Miller. 'She isn't going outside by herself?'

'No, just seeing that everything's locked up.'

'I thought you'd already checked?'

'Never hurts to make sure.' He said it lightly, but I realized it was in case Sophie or I had unlocked anything. They weren't leaving anything to chance.

I passed him a mug. 'Can I ask something?'

'Fire away.'

'What happens if Monk does come?'

He blew on the coffee to cool it. 'Then we get to earn our wages.'

'You know how dangerous he is?'

'Don't worry, we've been briefed. And we've heard the stories about him.'

'They aren't stories.'

'We won't underestimate him, if that's what you're worried about. If he tries anything, we stop him. Simple as that.'

I hoped it would be. Miller took a sip of coffee, pulling a face at the heat. 'If it's Steph that's bothering you, don't let it. She can look after herself.'

'I'm sure she can.'

'But you'd have been happier if it was two men?'

I didn't like to admit it, but he was right. I didn't consider myself a chauvinist but Cross was half the convict's size. 'You haven't met Monk. I have.'

'And he's a rapist and a monster and all the rest. I know.' Miller's usual brashness had gone. 'Steph's a better shot than I am, she's faster and she could take me in a fight any day. When she was in uniform a crackhead decked her partner one night and pulled a knife on her. I've seen the file. He was six two and thirteen stone. She took the knife off him, put him on the floor and cuffed him without any back-up. And that was before she got her third dan in karate.'

There was a half-smile on his face as he spoke, but I don't think he was aware of it. I thought of how he'd blushed when Sophie had asked if he and Cross were an item. Perhaps not, but they were certainly more than colleagues.