‘That’s brilliant, Guv.’
This is DS Jones, and DS Leyton nods heartily. But Skelgill is determinedly shaking his head.
‘But what came over me? Why would I want to give up all my secrets? Tell everyone the best places to fish. When to go. What to use. I’d be swamped. And now –’ He thumps the desk – perhaps more forcefully than he intends and both bottle and camera jump. ‘And, now, there is a far more deserving cause. To record the newest member of the Leyton clan – and one to be Cumbrian born at that.’
He tosses the box to DS Leyton – effectively forcing him to accept it.
‘But – Guvnor – these things cost a small fortune – I’ll pay you the money.’
Skelgill glowers disapprovingly.
‘No way, Leyton – it’s yours.’ He gives a short hysterical laugh. ‘You know I’ll forget to buy a present after the birth.’
They all chuckle at Skelgill’s uncharacteristic candour – the flood of self-deprecation seems to be buoying his spirits further. Now he rises and hands the bottle to DS Jones – who stands and curtseys to receive it. She admires the label and raises it for their consideration.
‘Guv – shouldn’t we be wetting the baby’s head – or whatever you do at this stage? Surely we could all have a little sip? I can fetch cups from the machine?’
Now Skelgill’s practical side comes to the fore.
‘Once you open champagne you need to finish it. Take it home, lass.’ He smiles a little mechanically. ‘You must have someone you could drink it with.’
At this DS Jones frowns, and there is a fierce if brief glint of reproach in her eyes. She places the bottle on Skelgill’s desk, halfway between them. Then she raises a hand to indicate the window behind her.
‘It’s going to be another lovely evening – why don’t we have a picnic supper – a double celebration? We know the perfect quiet spot!’ She grins; only half in jest she means Harterhow. She turns to DS Leyton. ‘Maybe you could bring your wife? I could get some soft drinks, too.’
DS Leyton smiles, his expression grateful.
‘Nah – nah – count me out. After all this worrying – and now the shock news – what I need is a quiet night in – get the missus her favourite takeaway to save her cooking.’
Skelgill is looking questioningly at DS Jones; she catches him doing so. He averts his eyes rather in the manner of a dog found coveting its owner’s unattended dinner, that now pretends it was merely guarding it. A little smile creases her lips and Skelgill sees this and gives a helpless shrug. The unspoken exchange seems to settle something, and now they both look at DS Leyton – he is turning over the camera box in his hands, contemplating its advertised features. He senses their gaze and looks up, surprised by the scrutiny. He raises the box – but his response is not what they anticipate.
‘Guv – those photographs of Morgan’s – the ones you had to explain away to the Chief?’ He glances a little apologetically at DS Jones. ‘How did you pull that off?’
Skelgill folds his arms; he takes a moment to compose his reply.
‘That morning, Leyton, the sun was behind me and I saw its reflection off a lens in the pine trees. How do you fool a person who’s spying on you? Answer: do something you wouldn’t do if you knew you were being watched.’ Now he shrugs in an exaggerated manner, as if this logic will excuse his actions. ‘I turned round and there was Jones – I just did the first daft thing that came into my head –’
DS Leyton is nodding – a little open-mouthed, it must be said – while DS Jones – perhaps she is affronted, though her expression equally could be one of approval.
‘After Jones had taken June Collins away – Morgan was still watching – so I made it look like I was –’
He searches unsuccessfully for a euphemism, but DS Leyton is looking suitably enlightened.
‘So you were just pretending, Guv.’
Now Skelgill makes a tutting sound with the tip of his tongue.
‘Leyton – first law of the jungle – never answer the call of nature in the middle of a gorse bush. Bloke – or woman, come to that.’
DS Jones is amused – she makes a face of vicarious pain and they all join in with her mirth. Skelgill, however, adds a rider.
‘Mind you, at the rate you’re going, Leyton – maybe it would put a stop to the local population explosion.’
DS Leyton winks at his colleague.
‘Like you said, Guv – these things happen.’
With a grunt he pitches forward and stands upright, holding the camera box carefully with both hands in front of his chest.
‘On which note, I’d better do one, Guv – I’ll get the missus safely home and then come straight back this afternoon.’
Skelgill points a reprimanding finger at his sergeant.
‘Don’t you dare come back today, Leyton – we can manage fine.’
DS Leyton shoots an apologetic glance at DS Jones, for he recognises the ‘we’ that means ‘she’.
‘Right, Guv.’
‘Work out how to use that camera.’ Skelgill suddenly gives a little involuntary laugh. ‘Just don’t take it anywhere near Harterhow tonight.’
‘No, Guv.’
‘Aye – and another thing, Leyton.’
‘Guv?’
‘Next time you have the bright idea of putting your career on the line when you think you’re saving my bacon – don’t.’
‘Yes, Guv. And watch out for that gorse, Guv.’
***
Next in the series
‘Murder at the Flood’ is scheduled for publication in July 2017. In the meantime, books 1-7 in the series can be found in the Kindle Store. Each comprises a stand-alone mystery, and may be read out of sequence.
Murder in the Woods Page 26