by Linda Coles
“I am, yes. See you soon, eh?” said Sam, and blew her a best mate kiss as she climbed behind the wheel.
Sam waved at Anika through her window as she drove past, but her mind was in overdrive, scheming, planning a visit to The Feathers to see Seedy Sid.
Just in case.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“What are you two love-birds up to tonight? Or shouldn’t I ask?”
Jack wore his best cheeky grin and Amanda whacked him affectionately with the back of her hand as they left the building heading towards the car park.
“Oy, careful! Not so hard.” Jack winced, rubbing his arm as though he’d been stabbed.
“Barely touched you, and for your information, we’re finishing decorating the bedroom. In fact, we’re almost done. We seem to have been in turmoil for weeks now and I’m over it already. And it’s only the first room.” Amanda sighed. “And I still have to hold down a full-time job.”
“That’s why I don’t bother. Nothing wrong with the paper that’s still on my bedroom walls. Well, nothing that a bit of glue on some of the corners wouldn’t fix. But it’s not bad enough to be replaced.”
Amanda turned to stare at him in disbelief. She’d only been in his bedroom once, and that was while he’d been in hospital and needed a few personal things picked up. If there had been time to decorate while he’d been away she’d have got someone in to bring the room into the twenty-first century. But when it came down to it, it was his place, not hers.
“I think it feels worse than it is because everything from our room is scattered around the house temporarily, so there’s things in the living room that really don’t belong there. And we’ve still got some of my stuff in boxes looking for a home. Perhaps we should have bought a bigger place between us instead of me moving into Ruth’s.”
They had reached Amanda’s car and she opened the driver’s door, resting her arm on the top of it while she spoke. She ran her fingers through her short blonde hair in an effort to restyle it before she arrived home.
“You’ll get there. It will get done. Always does.” Jack tipped his imaginary hat and said goodnight, walked the few steps to his own car and climbed in. Amanda watched him while she stood, then gave him a wave before getting inside her own and turning the engine on. She might be bored of decorating and the mess it created, but at least she’d be going home to someone tonight, and every night hereafter. Jack would be going home to an empty house. The realization sometimes made her sad, but Jack didn’t seem to care much. He was used to it. Janine had been gone some years, but at least he had a part-time housekeeper now in Mrs. Stewart, so his fridge probably had more choice in it than hers and Ruth’s did on any given day.
She headed out of the car park, destination home. Would Ruth be there yet? It was still quite early for a change, so that was unlikely. Amanda planned a bath if the house was empty. A long, soapy bath, with a glass of red on the side. She could almost taste the full body of a glass of Merlot, feel the warm water soothe her stressed body.
She was right – when she got home, the house was indeed empty, so Amanda headed straight up to the bathroom and turned the taps on, adding fragrant lavender bubbles as the water cascaded into the tub. For a moment, she watched the white suds form, watched them grow in volume like a meringue, and was almost tempted to scoop some onto her finger and see if it tasted as sweet. Walking to their bedroom, she stripped out of her work suit and grabbed her sweats to put on after her soak. Then, wearing only her underwear, she went back downstairs in search of a bottle of full-bodied red. Ruth had built a wine storage area out of pieces of terracotta drainpipe stacked on top of each other and then glued together; each hole fit a bottle perfectly. It looked simple, stylish and a whole lot hippy at the same time, and had been the talking point of many a dinner guest. Grabbing a stemmed glass and a random bottle, she made her way back to her waiting bubbles, hoping they hadn’t spilled over the top in her absence.
In a few moments, she lay up to her chin in lavender foam, breathing in the steam, smiling to herself and relaxing as the feeling of wine on an empty stomach took hold. Amanda closed her eyes and enjoyed the peace in the house, the time alone to drift for a while. Her body felt like it was floating, the warmth and the wine making her sleepy, and absentmindedly she wondered if this was what it felt like to someone who took drugs – that feeling of being out of one’s body, away from reality. With her eyes still closed, and floating safely in her bathtub, she tried to imagine never waking up, not resurfacing ever again and drifting off to another world on a chemical-induced pleasure craft. How sad it would be for those left behind to find only the soulless shell of their loved one’s body floating in a cold bath.
The water was cooling now, bringing her back to the real world. She lay still for a moment longer, savouring the last whiffs of lavender. She hadn’t heard the door close downstairs, hadn’t heard feet on the stairs, hadn’t heard someone enter the room.
“Hello, darling.”
Amanda screamed and shot up from the depths of the water, bubbles and wine sloshing over the side as she opened her eyes and tried to focus.
Ruth burst out laughing at the mess and her wife’s extreme reaction to her intrusion.
“Having fun in there, were you?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Amanda sat back and stretched like a cat, then groaned deeply and yawned. She caught Raj’s eye as she returned to her normal posture and blushed.
“Late night?” he enquired, lifting an eyebrow. Everyone in the station knew she had recently got married and while they hadn’t said much to her face, she was aware of sniggers and crude jokes behind her back. It no longer bothered her, and she let them have their fun at her expense knowing it would die down soon enough. Her skin was the required thickness to work in the Metropolitan Police and not much bothered her anymore.
“Nothing exciting to report. We’re just finishing up decorating. We’ve done one room and I don’t want to do any more.”
“Can’t you get someone in and do it?”
“We said we’d have a go ourselves. We thought it would be fun. Truth is, it’s hard graft and both our day jobs are hectic. It’s not like I can hide in the back room and do some filing for a rest.”
“You could do some of my paperwork if you want.” He grinned at her cheekily.
She knew he was joking; she had more than enough of her own, judging by the pile of folders balancing on her own desk. “I’ll pass, thanks. I need to do a bit more research.”
“Drugs?”
“Yep, fascinating stuff, actually. I mean, we all know about cocaine and heroin and the synthetics, but prescription drugs are getting to be more and more of a problem every day, and they’re so easy to come by.”
Raj came closer to her desk, obviously interested in what she was talking about. “My brother had a car accident a while back,” he said. “Broke his leg, smashed a rib or two, and they gave him some pretty strong painkillers to help him through. I can’t remember what they were now, but they did the trick. Anyway, they used to make him happy, happier than normal, and I wondered then if he was getting hooked on them, if he liked the feeling they gave him.”
“Is he still taking them, do you know?”
“I’ve often wondered, and officially he’s not, but sometimes when we’re out having a pint or at a match, he seems different – euphoric and upbeat, but to another level. I guess he could be taking them recreationally, but maybe not all the time.”
“Have you asked him?”
“No. I think I’m afraid of the answer, if he’d even tell his big brother the detective. And what if he did say yes? What would I do or say then?”
“Hmm. I know what you mean, but he is your brother and if he is addicted or taking them recreationally, he may need help. He can’t live like that forever. He’s risking getting ill, or worse, as you know.”
They lowered their voices as several more of their colleagues drifted into the room. They were deep in their own conv
ersations and not paying Amanda and Raj any attention, but still, Amanda was aware of flapping ears.
“Look, best wrap this up, but it’s worth a heart-to-heart with him, isn’t it? Voice your concern as his brother and see what he says. Just don’t go in accusingly and piss him off. Be the support he may be looking for.”
They both looked up as their boss, DI Dopey Dupin, entered the room and headed their way.
“Morning sir,” they said almost at the same time. Raj started to move away, figuring it was Amanda he was after.
“Yes, morning,” Dupin said, though he was obviously distracted. He turned his full attention to Amanda.
“I hear on the bongo drums you’ve been making enquiries at Manchester about Wilfred Day. What’s that all about?” Dopey had a habit of looking stressed even when he probably wasn’t, but the twitch in his left eye said he was wound up about something. It was one of his ‘tells.’ He’d never make a decent poker player.
“His name came up rather tenuously connected to a prescription drug thing I’m looking into.”
“And? Is that it?”
“Yes, sir, that’s about it. DS Black filled me in on what he knew of him, which was not much more than a slippery modern mob wannabe who has impeccable manners and dresses smartly. May I ask what’s up, sir?”
“Just keep me posted, that’s all,” he said, and left as quickly as he’d entered.
Amanda watched him go. He’d never been the most talkative person in the station and was not an easy person to warm to, but he was her boss and she respected that. To many, it was still a quandary how he’d ever made the DI promotion; some speculated he must have intel on someone higher up, but others couldn’t see him being smart enough to blackmail his way. It was kind of sad he lacked the respect of the team he led, she thought, not for the first time.
She sat back down at her desk and looked at the web page she’d been reading about opioid addiction in other countries. The US had a massive problem with pharmacy break-ins, prescription books nicked and youngsters getting into the game as dealers to fulfil demand. Many were nicking their parents’ pills, swapping them out for something that looked the same and then selling on the potent stuff at a profit. Prescription pills were deemed a little more upmarket than typical street drugs, and housewives, sports stars and everybody in between was regularly looking for their endorphin fix or dopamine surge. And like any addiction, the more a person consumed, the bigger the craving. While it wasn’t quite as bad in little old Blighty, opioids were already on the street and readily available.
She sat back in her chair, feeling deflated. Or was she just feeling sluggish? Looking at the clock on her screen, she realized it was time for coffee so she headed to the coffee machine, the one that always caused Jack so much consternation. As she waited for her cup to fill, she was deep in thought. Caffeine was no different than other drugs in a craving and uplifting context. So why wasn’t caffeine banned and thrown in with other stimulants? A triple espresso would shoot her into oblivion, yet could it feel the same as a hit from something outlawed? It was a sobering thought.
Amanda took her fix back to her desk and carried on with research.
Chapter Forty
Duncan had driven to work that morning in a mixed mood of thankfulness and utmost surprise at finding Sam up sipping tea in the kitchen. But what had doubly surprised him was she’d then showered and made him breakfast, all with a smile on her face. Maybe he hadn’t been too hard on her after all; maybe she’d turned a corner and was starting to sort herself out. He certainly hoped so. A red light up ahead slowed him to a stop and he absentmindedly looked across to the car that had pulled alongside him at the traffic lights. There was no mistaking whose car it was, though the windows were tinted so dark there was no way of confirming who was driving. A top-of-the-range custom-coloured metallic tan Bentley – there was only one person with a car like that.
Wilfred Day.
The driver was probably looking straight at him, but there was no way he could tell for sure. So Duncan smiled like an idiot anyway and wiggled his fingers in a casual wave just to be the friendly cop he was – and annoy the hell out of whoever was at the wheel. The passenger window of the Bentley rolled down smoothly, and the driver leaned across the empty seat in an effort to talk to Duncan.
It was the man himself.
“Pleasant morning, isn’t it? A slight nip in the air, but at least the rain has gone.” Wilfred Day smiled broadly. His face wasn’t so much handsome as striking. His jaw was strong, his eyes as blue as could be, and he had a perfect set of teeth that were currently being displayed in all their chemically whitened glory. Maybe GQ had finished their photo shoot with him early.
“Morning, Wilfred. What gets you up so early on a school day? Or are you just going home?”
“Early bird and all. Early bird.” He flashed a smile again and revved his engine, yelling “Have a fantastic day!” as the lights changed and he drove off. Duncan watched as Wilfred accelerated out in front of him. A car tooted behind him so Duncan pulled away too. Day’s rear lights were already pinpricks of red in the distance.
“And the second mouse gets the cheese, my friend. Second mouse,” he mumbled. “Fantastic day,” with its play on his surname, was something the man said to amuse himself, and it always grated on Duncan. The fact that Wilfred Day had managed to stay out of jail stuck in the craw of the GMP in general, and many had taken him on in an attempt to be the local hero in law enforcement, but the egg continued to slip around the fry pan.
“One day, Day. It won’t be so fantastic, then. Well, not for you at any rate,” he mumbled. Duncan had fantasized about what he’d say to the man when the law finally caught up with him and he was sent down, because he did believe it was only a matter of time. As his mental scenario went, he’d walk up to him in the courtroom before he was led away and tell him ‘The day is done.’ It was so poetic, so eloquent in its simplicity. All Duncan needed now was the occasion. The right day.
He turned into Grindlow Street; the station was just in front of him. The area was still quiet, with only a handful of people out walking dogs. Rochelle’s bike wasn’t parked in its usual corner, but Rick’s BMW was in his usual spot. Duncan pulled into a space himself, then headed indoors. Rick was talking to a uniform in the doorway.
“Hello, early bird.” Rick gave him a friendly slap on his back as he spoke.
“Morning, Rick. You’re extra exuberant this morning, aren’t you?”
“Oh, just good to see you back, and glad your little family is all safe and sound, too. A bit of a stressful day, I’d imagine.”
“You could say that, yeah.”
They both headed into the building and towards the canteen. Coffee first. Always. They placed their orders and then grabbed a seat to wait.
“I popped back last night when the girls had gone to bed, caught up with Rochelle. Still no news on the two missing children, I hear. That’s not good.”
Two mugs of steaming coffee arrived and they each sipped in silence for a moment or two. Children who went missing were rarely found alive so many hours after their disappearance. It was one of the hardest things for officers to deal with, one of the worst parts of the job. They both knew that some point, probably soon, their task would turn from rescue recovery, and the grief of informing next of kin. A hateful task, but one that had to be done nonetheless.
“No, absolutely it’s not, but with such a lack of leads to go on, I’m doubtful we’ll bring them home anytime soon. Though I’m praying for the opposite, just like you are.” Changing the subject, Rick asked, “Are you still out tactical training next week, or has that been postponed?”
“No. As far as I’m aware, it’s still on. I’m actually looking forward to seeing the fake town they’ve built. From what I’ve seen the riot set-up is pretty realistic, and the rent-a-mobs are pretty realistic too. Why do you ask?”
“Remember DS Amanda Lacey from Croydon?”
The blonde one, yes. She put
away that woman who collected human hunting trophies. Quite a tough cookie, I remember. Why?”
“I spoke to her yesterday while you were out. Seems they might have a prescription opioid issue developing. She found evidence, little packets that tested for codeine and oxy, by a mobile food truck down there, and guess whose name came up with a bit of a dig?”
“Tell me.”
“Wilfred Day. Loosely on a company trace, but still, here he is popping up yet again.”
“I saw him on the drive in, all bright and breezy,” said Duncan. “The guy will get his day, and I’ll get my day to say told you so. One day.” He smiled at his own weak joke. “Poetic, don’t you think? I can’t wait to deliver it to the arrogant git.”
“Well, if Lacey has something going on down there, you never know your luck – Day might slip up. So, my point is this: why don’t you pop in while you’re passing on your way down to training? It might be worth an hour’s detour; buy her dinner or something.” Duncan thought for a moment. If Day was moving his operation south into new unchartered territory, he might indeed slip up somehow. And either he or Lacey could be the one to catch him if he fell.
“I’ll give her a buzz now.”
Chapter Forty-One
Jack was looking expectantly at the coffee machine once again, and Amanda was trying not to notice and smirk. It wasn’t that he hadn’t had the practice; he’d had plenty, but for some reason unknown to humanity, he struggled with the concept of water, capsule and milk. And the relevant buttons. One day, he’d grasp it, she was sure, but until that distant day, it was invariably quicker and less painful all round to make him a mug when she made her own. Shaking her head, she quietly made her way across and picked up a clean mug.
“Great idea, Jack. I think I’ll have another.”
With a thankful sideways glance, he allowed her in, pretending to be gallant with a wave of his hand for her to go first. She took the hint and the machine fizzed and spluttered into life, dark liquid filling her mug.