How’s Tricks?

‘How’s tricks?’ Maggie smiled into Brian’s eyes.

Tricks? he thought scornfully. They were back in the Wild Boar, scene of a previous meeting. Her suggestion this time. Brian hadn’t been keen. The little bar was way too intimate for a casual coffee. The previous year, he’d chosen it with care in the hope of progressing the relationship. He still carried the open sores of Maggie Laird’s rebuffs.

Now, he affected an upbeat tone. ‘Busy-busy.’

As if. Chisolm hadn’t revisited the subject of Brian’s promotion prospects, and he’d got short shrift when he’d made a tentative pass at DC Strachan.

‘That’s good.’

Under the keen gaze of those hypnotic eyes, Brian could feel his temperature rise. Maggie’s phone call that morning had roused mixed emotions: on the one hand, maybe she was ready to eat humble pie and start afresh. On the other – if her track record was anything to go by – she might well have another agenda. In his head, Brian did a quick recce of his caseload, but couldn’t think of anything she could possibly have managed to get herself embroiled in.

She cut to the chase. ‘What’s the story on Sheena Struthers?’

So that was it. A rush of blood suffused his neck and threatened to engulf his face. Chill, he told himself. At least she’d been straight up about it this time.

‘No idea.’ He wasn’t about to be drawn.

‘Brian,’ a girlish voice trilled. A pert blonde materialised out of the gloom.

‘Oh.’ Brian looked up, smiled broadly. ‘Hello, Megan.’

‘Didn’t know you hung out here?’ Coquettish look.

‘I don’t,’ he said pointedly. ‘Megan, meet Maggie Laird. Maggie’s an old friend.’ He sneaked a glance in her direction. ‘A very old friend,’ he added.

‘Pleased to meet you.’ Maggie offered a grudging smile.

‘You too.’ Megan returned the smile, displaying a set of sparkling white teeth.

‘Megan’s a civilian officer,’ Brian explained. ‘Just recently moved up from South Wales.’

He noted, with some satisfaction, Maggie giving Megan a covert once-over. Couldn’t help but conclude that, weighed against Maggie’s petite frame and unruly red curls, this svelte young blonde with her big blue eyes and milky skin looked a million dollars.

‘Will I see you later?’ Megan turned her attention back to Brian.

‘Yes.’ A blush spread from below his shirt collar to the tips of his ears. ‘The Athenaeum?’

‘Fine. Catch you then.’

‘Good to meet you, Maggie.’ Megan turned to go.

Brian squirmed in his seat. Wasn’t it just his bloody luck to get caught in a compromising situation? Not that you could count Maggie as a love interest. Not now, anyway. But young Megan wasn’t to know that. And he’d got good vibes there, reckoned he was onto something. Bugger Maggie Laird. He gripped the edge of his chair. The sooner he got to the bottom of what had prompted this meeting and got back to the station, the sooner he could make inroads with Megan. Before some other bastard beat him to it.

‘Sorry about that.’ He turned to Maggie. ‘Where were we?’

‘You were telling me about the Struthers case.’ The words tripped off her tongue.

‘I don’t think so.’ He caught her in the lie.

Her cheeks tinged with colour.

‘What’s your interest anyhow?’ he demanded.

‘Sheena Struthers is a client of mine,’ Maggie said airily.

‘Not for much longer, maybe.’

‘What do you mean?’

Brian reminded himself of the promise he’d made to himself: to keep Maggie Laird at arm’s length. ‘Nothing.’ He could have bitten his tongue.

‘Brian?’ She leaned into him.

He caught a whiff of her fragrance. That scent she used: lilac, freesia, whatever it was. Then shampoo. And something else. Something more. He felt a stirring in his crotch.

‘I had the husband in to the station the other day,’ he let out.

‘Oh.’ Her eyes flashed interest. ‘Find out anything?’

Don’t even go there! His resolve hardened along with the beginnings of an erection.

Maggie Laird had led him by the nose. He wouldn’t give her tuppence, no matter he was soft on the woman. He willed the tumescence to subside.

She took his hand in hers. Clasped it tight.

‘She might not make it, do you mean?’ she persisted.

Brian crossed his legs, uncrossed them again. To hide the bulge in his trousers he cupped his free hand over his groin, feeling like a twelve-year-old.

‘Brian?’ He could feel her breath on his cheek.

Finally, he spoke. ‘Looks like it.’