Hilary Bonner - When the Dead Cry Out

Phil hadn’t hesitated. And she knew that it wasn’t just that he always seemed to be hungry, either. There couldn’t be a police officer alive who worked harder or longer hours than he did. Except her perhaps, she thought. It was a bonus that they enjoyed each other’s company. Not for the first time she reflected on how lucky she was to have him on her team.

“See you at Akbar’s as soon as you can make it, then,” she said. “I’ll be about fifteen minutes.”

Karen left her car in the station car park. The ten-minute walk to the restaurant would do her good and she felt like having a decent drink. She thought she might well get a taxi home.

The atmosphere at Akbar’s was restful and relaxing. All dark-red plush upholstery and similar wall coverings blending into one in the subdued lighting. Karen arrived first, but Phil joined her not long after, before she had even got around to ordering herself a drink. Although he was obviously tired, he also seemed excited. You could see that he was pumped up.

“You look how I feel,” she told him. “Marshall’s being impossible, of course, but at least he’s inside. I don’t know whether to collapse or cheer.”

“That’s just how it is, boss. We’re all the same, you know, even the really young guys. Everybody wants Marshall. Nobody will relax, though, until he’s charged, and even then not really until he’s convicted. That’s the trouble with this one. You can’t quite believe it, can you?”

Karen grunted. “It’s been a long haul,” she said, as she ordered two pints of lager and passed Cooper the menu.

“Thanks, boss,” replied the DS. “You’ve no idea how much I’m looking forward to a square meal and a few beers.”

“Oh yes, I have,” said Karen. “I really have.”

By the time they had finished their main courses, chicken masala, chicken tikka, and a selection of vegetable curries, Phil had told Karen all about his enquiries and given her a rundown on Jennifer Roth.

“She’s a piece of work, boss, I’m telling you,” he said. “At first she just seemed shocked rigid. But as soon as I started to push her she changed into something I hadn’t expected. Like a trapped animal she was. She’s a snooty bitch, too. And she won’t have a word said against Marshall. Not a word.”

“Yup. Well, that much is par for the course. God knows what he does to the women in his life but they all seem totally taken in by him.”

Karen tried not to think about just how much her mother may have fallen into that category. She called for another two pints of lager, their third each.

Cooper held up a hand to stop her. “I’d better not, I’m driving,” he said. “The days when you could tell the pointy-hat brigade you were in the job and they’d go away are long gone.”

Karen grinned. She knew that as Cooper was thirteen years her junior those days must be mere mythology to him, but she could remember them for real.

“Where’ve you parked?” she asked him. “My car’s at the nick. I’m leaving it there. To hell with it, Phil. You don’t arrest Richard Marshall every day of your life.”

Cooper grinned back at her. “You’re right, boss,” he said. “My motor’s in the car park round the corner. As long as I get there early in the morning it’ll be all right overnight. I’ll have Sarah give me a lift in. In which case, how about a whisky chaser?”

“Done,” said Karen, and ordered two large ones.

They stayed in the restaurant until past 1 A. M., demolishing two more whiskies each.

“Do you ever think about how the law was in the old Wild West, boss?” asked Cooper casually at one point, when the booze had definitely kicked in.

Karen giggled. “Can’t say it’s a major preoccupation, Phil,” she confessed.

“Yeah well, those cowboy lawmen could get away with murder, and did, didn’t they?” Phil went on. “If they’d got a fucking Richard Marshall in their territory they’d have shot him or lynched him straight away. Now, I’m not saying that’s right, boss, no, I’m not. But you got to admit it wouldn’t half save a lot of unnecessary bother.”

Cooper, whom Karen knew was not a big drinker at all, was obviously feeling no pain having downed the best part of three large whiskies. He was very very serious and spoke with careful deliberation. Karen became almost overwhelmed by an irrepressible urge to giggle. Eventually she could contain herself no longer. And her suppressed mirth came out in the form of an explosive snort.

Still apparently very serious, Cooper made a show of wiping his face with one hand and then the lapels of his jacket.

“Sorry, Phil, did I get you?” Karen asked, in between hoots of laughter.

“Think you did, boss. It’s all right. I just don’t know what I said that was so funny.”

The laughter really kicked in then. Uncontrollably.

“That’s it, that’s it,” she spluttered. “You really don’t, do you?”

Cooper looked bewildered. “No, I don’t, boss,” he said, downing the last of his whisky.

“You are quite wonderful sometimes, Phil, particularly when you’ve been drinking,” she continued through giggles. “Oh, and when we’re off duty I do wish to God you wouldn’t call me ‘boss.’ That makes it even funnier, if you see what I mean.”

“No, I don’t see, really, boss—”

“Oh Phil, please.”

“Right. All right. OK. Here goes. K-A-R-E-N. Karen.”

Phil beamed at her.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Did that sound all right, boss?” asked Cooper then.

She shot him a sharp look.

He grinned broadly. She pretended to throw the remains of her lager over him. It was all very childish. But it really felt good to unwind and play the fool.

“Go on, Karen,” he said, now using her name quite naturally. “You may as well chuck it and finish the job.”

She knew it wasn’t that funny. Cooper was right. None of it was that funny. But fuelled by alcohol, weakened by weariness and fired up with tension it seemed absolutely side-splittingly hilarious.

They completed their meal and paid their bill in hopeless fits of giggles. And they were still giggling when they climbed a little unsteadily into the taxi Karen had ordered. Karen’s flat was almost on Cooper’s route home to Paignton, so she asked the driver to drop her off first and then go on.

At West Beach Heights she turned to Cooper. “I really needed that, Phil, it was a great release. Thank you.”

“I know, boss,” he said. “I mean Karen. And thank you, too.”

He turned to her directly then, his grin cracking his face wide open yet again.

“You’re great company. D’you know that?”

“Not sure that I do, Phil.”

He put one hand on her arm. He was deadly serious again.

“We must do it again some time.”

“Yes, we must.”

Very deliberately Karen kept her voice light, but something made her touch Phil’s hand with her free one.

“I really enjoyed myself,” she said quietly.

“Me too.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds, and for just a fleeting moment Karen considered asking him upstairs. At once she dismissed the thought, mentally giving herself a sound smack.

“Goodnight then, Phil,” she said, pulling her hand and arm free, drawing away from him and opening the door of the cab.

“’Night, boss,” said Phil, and the return to the more formal mode of address seemed to Karen to indicate the sergeant’s realization that that rather curious moment of special contact between them, whatever it had really been, had passed. But then, as she stepped out and was about to shut the cab door, he leaned quickly forward and kissed her briefly on the cheek.

“Sweet dreams,” he said.

And then he was gone. She could just make out his head in the back of the cab. He didn’t turn round once. It was almost as if that brief kiss hadn’t happened.