Chapter Four

CPO work was, most of the time, not very exciting. Joe patrolled the house, discovering a room full of costumes and makeup, wigs and masks and God knows what, as well as the sort of rooms that ordinary people had. A kitchen, a very tidy utility room, and Joe now remembered how tedious the job could be. Although not quite as tedious as being off work ill for so long.

But the house felt like a home in a way that his never did, and Alejandro had only been in it a month. There were scarves and brightly embroidered Spanish shawls, elaborate ornaments and eye-popping paintings on every surface. As welcoming as it could’ve been, ignored by his resentful principal, Joe was in for a trying time indeed

But nowhere near as trying as Alejandro’s friends, the cackling, chattering group that poured into the house that evening and created more noise than seemed possible for half a dozen people. Alejandro sat at the heart of them like a young emperor, the king at his court, and Joe was more than happy to leave the lot of them to it.

That night, he slept clutching Paloma’s rose under the pillow and he woke up the next day with it still in his hand. Over breakfast, he looked through Alejandro’s Instagram account. He noticed some drag queens among the photos, and it occurred to Joe, as he thought of the rose lying hidden away, that maybe…maybe by some miracle, Alejandro might know Paloma.

But so what if he did? Joe couldn’t say anything. He couldn’t show Alejandro photos of Wendy one minute then ask him about the beautiful Paloma the next. And besides, everyone thought Joe was straight. He’d done his best over the years to hide the fact that he was gay, and he had to be careful because even sleeping in that ridiculously camp bedroom, he couldn’t allow his guard to slip.

Joe stood by the window of the front room, hiding just inside the curtains to watch the street outside. He made a mental note of everyone who came by and the cars that passed. And he’d do it again tomorrow too, because if the troll tried to come, Joe would be ready.

“You’re still here?” How long had Alejandro been watching from the doorway, a half-eaten apple clutched in one hand? He sighed and said, “I’m losing my touch. Have you eaten?”

Joe watched a cyclist puff along the road with a line of annoyed drivers behind. Now that was trolling. He let the edge of the curtain drop. “Yes, I’m still here. And my suit, too. I had some breakfast. I made myself some toast.”

“You should change, Sergeant. We’re going out to my studio for a makeup day and things might get messy!” He took a bite of his apple. “Zak’s coming over later and wants to see my monsters from the id, so there’s going to be paint and glue everywhere!”

This really is like babysitting.

“Well…I do have to try to blend in sometimes. I can’t always annoy you in my undertaker costume.” Joe grinned at Alejandro. “Do jeans pass master, Mr Fuente?”

“If they’re good jeans.” Alejandro nodded down at his own denim-clad legs, which he had paired with leopard print baseball boots and a fitted shirt in vivid blue tartan. “And not if you’re going to wear a shirt and tie with them.”

For someone so full of fashion advice, he certainly had a unique take on style.

“So what look is your look, Alejandro?” Joe began to unfasten his tie. “I’ve got classic 501s, if you must know.”

“This look is pure House of Fuente.” He grinned. “And I made this shirt myself, actually!”

Just like Paloma and her gothic gown, Joe thought, then told himself not to think it. What good would it do?

“So if I should get a tear in my suit saving your life from your personal troll, you’ll sew it up for me?” Joe could predict the answer.

“I’ll throw it on a bonfire and we’ll dance round it before I take you to a proper tailor.” Alejandro pointed to the ceiling. “Now change, Sergeant, my model will be waiting!”

Joe heeded his orders and went upstairs. He carefully hung up his suit, feeling rather sorry for the garment which had waited patiently in his wardrobe for the length of his sick leave but was not exactly popular with Alejandro. Once he was dressed, Joe lifted the corner of his pillow for a quick glance of the silk rose underneath it, then headed downstairs in his jeans, with a vintage leather jacket over his open-necked shirt.

Alejandro was perched on the arm of his enormous sofa, chatting amiably into his mobile. At the sight of Joe, he said quickly, “I have to go, Mel, see you in not many minutes!” Then he hopped up from his perch and looked Joe up and down. Literally up and down, with no effort to conceal it. Finally, he said, “I need that jacket.”

“So do I, or I’ll get cold!” Joe shoved his hands into his pockets. Now imagine that, something in his wardrobe that Alejandro actually liked. And it was the jacket Alejandro was interested in, of course. Unless looking him up and down was an attempt to wind him up.

Alejandro pouted as he strolled out into the hallway, took a coat from behind the door and pulled it on. It was a long frockcoat of dark purple with a black velvet collar that had just a touch of shimmer, a sprinkle of glitter almost. As he fastened the silver buttons, Alejandro said, “I’m sure you’ve read all about my little studio in Camden? Zak’s going to confirm the filming dates for his short this week and I’m in charge of makeup, so today you and me and lovely Melanie are going into the studio to turn Zak’s dreams into scary reality!”

“The studio was in your file. But not Melanie.” Joe looked Alejandro in the eye. “I’m sorry, but my colleagues will have to look into her background.”

“Well, absolutely you must.” Alejandro went to open the front door then paused and stepped back. Had he actually listened? Is he waiting for me to open the door? “If it helps you find her in your files, her dad’s the Earl of Southampton. Door, Sergeant, if you would.”

Joe tried not to roll his eyes as he opened the front door a small way and glanced outside. “How do you get to the studio?”

“Walk?” Alejandro’s voice was hopeful. “It’s a lovely walk over the heath on a day like this.”

Joe closed the door. “I have to advise you against that. We’ll go by car. I just need to make a phone call and it’s here.”

“But it’s sunny.” He pouted, a pout all too familiar from the Duchess of Albany. “It’s a lovely day!”

“A sunny autumn day, and the leaves are all orange, but…” Joe rapped his knuckles against his chest. “I’m wearing body armour under this, you know. If we walk and someone tries to shoot you, I’ll have you on the floor underneath me in a second. If we’re in the car, we’ll be safer. Not one hundred percent safe, I can’t ever promise you that, but…”

Alejandro looked down at his phone, his face set in a scowl. He was going to explode, Joe suspected. It was like waiting for a firework to go off in the middle of a crowd.

Then he swept his finger across the screen and began to read.

“Is that really the best they’ve got?” He glanced up at Joe and there was no anger there now, just fear. “Spending British money on a queer little cunt who’s polluting our royal blood. I’ll enjoy spilling some of it, his too if he likes.”

A spike of fear shot up Joe’s back. He covered the phone with his hand, as if it could contain the malice in that comment. “Oh, that’s nice, a threat against me as well. And an insult too. Do you see now? I’m sorry, because I wouldn’t mind a walk over the heath either, but…we can’t. Six months ago, I didn’t think I’d get to see autumn again, you know. I thought I’d never rustle through the leaves again. But it can wait. Next year, even. Maybe even next week, if this wimp’s collared soon. I’ll get the car and driver now.”

“You have people who are tracing these comments, don’t you?” The bravado was gone now, Alejandro’s voice suddenly quieter. “They are really looking for Leviticus?”

“Yes, I promise you they are. I’ve gone through your file, remember? They’ll find them.” Joe wasn’t sure that he could tell Alejandro the truth, that Leviticus was adept at covering their tracks. But they’d slip up eventually. Because Joe knew from experience that that much hate couldn’t exist without a sizable dollop of stupidity.

“I haven’t polluted anything.” Alejandro sank down onto the stairs, shaking his head. “I didn’t ask my mother to marry a fucking English prince, did I? Oh right, at fourteen I really wanted to be taken away from home and put into Eton, to have the world staring at me, calling Mamá a gold-digger, a foreign tart, all that racist rubbish they said about her behind their hands. Oh, isn’t it nice to have some ethnic blood in the royal family? Look at her olive skin, all exotic and mysterious. So fucking patronising! She makes the prince happy, he deserves someone who’ll love him. Do you know how I escaped from that school the second time, why they didn’t dare send me back? Do you?”

Joe crouched down on the floor in front of Alejandro. “No, you haven’t polluted anything. Don’t take this crap to heart, please. I know that’s easily said, but… And I know you don’t want me getting under your feet, I know none of this is ideal. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been for you.” Joe tipped his head to one side. “What did you do at Eton? Your mother never said.”

“The first time I just ran away. I may have stolen a teacher’s car to run away in, but I did leave a note under the wiper saying sorry and some money for petrol.” Alejandro peered up at Joe, then lowered his gaze again. “They’re not all very nice boys at Eton, especially to someone like me—they could be brutal. So the second time, when they were hammering on my study door and trying to get in, I…” He brushed his hand through his hair. “I sort of, well, jumped out of the window. It seemed the safer choice and I was so panicky that I forgot I was two floors up.”

“Two floors up?” Joe patted Alejandro’s knee. He’d never heard that particular detail, and wasn’t surprised that the duchess hadn’t mentioned it. Her son could’ve died. And after his father’s death… He shook his head. “That’s horrendous. I’m not surprised you ran off.”

“They were savage. They plastered my door in pictures of Mamá from her films because, apparently, the fact that she did nude scenes made her a whore. As though it was cheap porn! So I came back to my room and there’s photos of my mother, naked, all over my door.” He took a deep breath and pushed his phone into his pocket. “And right in the middle, a report on Papá’s death. And you know, nobody in my stepfather’s family has ever treated me like that. They own this fucking country and they’re still not as entitled and hateful as a bunch of nasty little rich schoolboys!”

“I think some of them must be working with Wendy now!” Joe attempted a smile. He’d been bullied a couple of times by boys smaller than him, who’d run off crying once Joe had said, ‘Okay, then, let’s wrestle!’ Or that he’d used that same ability to instil fear in bullies to frighten them off from the boys who weren’t as able to defend themselves. “Your stepfamily are a nice bunch to work for. I’m sorry you went through that. So, so sorry. But we’re not letting this troll win. You can go to your studio, I’m not suggesting you stay trapped in the house, but for now, you go in a car. No need to steal someone’s motor or jump out of a window two storeys up now.”

Alejandro blinked, then reached out and patted Joe’s shoulder. “Call our car, Sergeant. Let’s travel in style today.”

 

* * * *

 

Bulletproof cars presumably didn’t head to this bit of London all that often. Joe got out of the car first and scoped the area, then leaned down to Alejandro’s window. “It looks safe, but I’ll go into the studio first and check. Okay?”

“Don’t touch anything,” Alejandro warned, handing over a key. “The alarm code is 1234, but I bet you’re going to make me change it, right?”

“Yes, but not to 1812.” Joe gave him a wink. It wasn’t just the alarm code that needed to be changed, but the locks, too. Why hadn’t the other officers on this case done anything, or had Alejandro only come here after slipping his leash? Joe opened up and went inside, pressing his back against the wall. A train rattled overhead and Joe scanned the room, which had been fitted under the railway arches. The high, curved ceiling and the lack of windows other than at the front gave it the feeling of a cave. A magic sort of cave, it was like the room full of costumes that Joe had stumbled into yesterday but with even more costumes, and props, and monster heads in papier mâché and rubber.

This certainly wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he’d been selected for royal CPO duty. This was far from a palace or a Scottish shooting lodge.

Joe listened out for footsteps or anything moving, but apart from the rumble of another train, he heard nothing. He stepped carefully around the room. There were far too many places for someone to hide, but they would’ve had to have had an accomplice fasten the padlock on the outside, which didn’t seem likely. But Joe wasn’t going to leave that to chance.

After a few minutes, he returned to the door and beckoned towards Alejandro. “All clear. Come on in.”

Addressing the driver, he pointed to his watch, then made the international sign for ‘I’ll give you a ring’.

Alejandro climbed from the car and waved farewell to the driver. There was no look of annoyed scorn on his face for now, just a faint grin as he stepped into his chaotic wonderland of a studio.

“Home at last!” He beamed, closing the door. He gestured to a vast pair of feathered angel wings that were mounted on the wall. “Just your typical, subtle, understated sort of workplace.”

“I can safely say I’ve never been anywhere like this before. Well, apart from when your mum was launching that theatre charity appeal. We went backstage.” Joe tried to stay alert, but the studio was far too distracting. “I mean, your mother. Sorry. Her Grace.”

“She’s Mamá, you don’t have to call her anything special.” Alejandro took off his coat and threw it onto a hook behind the door. “I spent so long doing editorial makeup in New York, I thought I would go mad! Then I got the job with Cirque du Vegas and it was wild. They wanted unicorns, angels, devils, carnival. No more miserable models and nude tones, just Ken Russell on speed in a wind tunnel, riding the horses of the apocalypse. I’ve got so many offers for next year and Cirque du Vegas are coming to London too, but I have to do Zak’s film first. I promised.” He pointed to a glossy coffee table book that was sitting on a workbench. “That’s the Cirque du Vegas book, if you get bored, have a look. I’m so proud of that work.”

“Thanks. It sounds interesting.” And completely bizarre, but Joe wasn’t going to judge. He’d seen some of the films made by Alejandro’s father and starring his mother, and there was no way that Alejandro’s work could be ordinary. He picked up the book and turned to a page at random, finding himself face to face with a creature that looked as if it came from the Island of Dr Moreau.

“Let’s have some music and a cup of tea.” Tea? But Alejandro was set on playing the host and was already heading to a corner with a rudimentary kitchen. Or at least the place where a kettle and the world’s smallest microwave teetered dangerously on top of a small fridge, next to a stainless-steel sink. “What bands do you like?”

“Guitar stuff, really. Blur, Manics, that sort of thing. Bit of hip-hop.” Joe wasn’t about to mention that he’d sobbed listening to Maria Callas sing arias from The Marriage of Figaro.

“I knew you’d say Beyoncé!” Alejandro pressed his phone screen and music filled the room. “The patron saint of fierce. When I read comments like the one this morning, I ask, what would Beyoncé do?” He offered Joe a wink. “She would slay, Sergeant Joe, and so will I!”

Before Joe could advise that slaying was never the answer, he heard a sprightly greeting.

“Knock, knock!”

“Melanie!” Alejandro pressed the switch on the kettle. “Frisk her, Sergeant, pat her down, then do me next!”

The truncheon and helmets jokes surely weren’t far behind.

Joe headed to the doorway, where their new arrival stood. Melanie, daughter of an earl, long chestnut brown hair tied onto the top of her head in a messy bobble, vape disappearing into her the pocket of her denim jacket.

“Lady Melanie?” Joe beckoned her inside, then shut and bolted the door behind her.

“Where were you last night?” Alejandro called in a comically admonishing tone. “There was a Melanie-sized gap in my movie night. It was like champagne with no fizz!”

“Sorry! I wore myself out at Pilates. I know, Pilates, right? But I was totally knackered, and had a nap, and next thing I knew, it was gone eleven o’clock!” Melanie laughed, that slightly husky, posh laugh that Joe heard rather often in his line of work. She looked over at Joe, then squealed. “Oh-my-god! Oh-my-god! New boyf, right? New boyf!”

She hurtled towards Alejandro and squeezed him in a tight hug. Joe returned to the book of Cirque de Vegas’ wild costumes.

“He’s a married man, but I’m trying ever so hard not to hold it against him.” Alejandro kissed Melanie’s cheek. “This is Sergeant Joe, who is looking after me because Leviticus Fuckface the Troll called me a cunt on the internet this morning. Can you believe that? So I have Joe, and I’m driving him mad, but he has a gorgeous jacket.”

“He called you a cunt?” Melanie’s mouth fell open comically wide. “I’m so kicking him in the balls.” She grinned at Joe. “Why are you married, Sergeant Joe? God’s sake!”

“Sorry, Lady Melanie.”

“Mel, please,” she said. “Unless you’re a reporter from Country Life.”

“Sergeant Joe is married,” Alejandro pouted, “because all the men with lovely shoulders and just the right number of buttons unfastened are always married. They give you a glimpse of chest, a flash of a well-sculpted collarbone and go home to their wives. It’s how life is for boys like me.”

“Just ignore me, Mel. Okay? I’m here to keep Alejandro safe, and by extension anyone close to him. So that’s you as well.” Joe nodded and wandered over to the door. There was a reinforced frosted glass panel fixed into it. Not too bad. Would probably keep Alejandro and his endless teasing safe.

Mel nudged Alejandro. “How exciting, Alejo! Your very own hunky bodyguard! And mine too!”

“Fuckface dared to have a go at my hunky sergeant this morning too, so I’m going to be kind to him all day to make up for it. Don’t tell him I told you, but he’s better company than the other two.” He kissed Mel’s cheek again. “Sergeant Joe, cup of tea?”

“Yes, please.” Joe wandered over to a chair and sat down with the book. He didn’t know much at all about makeup but Alejandro’s work looked amazing. Joe was willing to concede that Alejandro was talented. He was also well aware that Alejandro was a massive wind-up merchant. Pranks would doubtless ensue and Joe needed to stay alert.

‘Lovely shoulders.’ Still, it was better to be teased than outright resented, and if Alejandro’s teasing extended only as far pretending he thought Joe was hunky, he could definitely live with that.

“White, no sugar.” Alejandro looked so pleased as he said that. He put three brightly striped mugs down on the narrow strip of fridge that served as a worktop. “I do pay attention, Sergeant, I saw you make your own yesterday and I remembered no sugar!”

“I’ll make a copper of you yet.” Joe turned a page of the book and saw a group of acrobats with elaborate geometric shapes painted onto their faces. They almost didn’t look like human faces at all. “You’re very good at this makeup business, you know!”

“He is!” Mel put her arm around Alejandro’s shoulders in a matey hug. “The first time he did me, he made me look like a Picasso painting. Wonky nose, eye in the wrong place. It was genius!”

“Makeup is magic. I grew up on Papá’s movie sets, it was like a different dream every day.” Alejandro beamed like a child on Christmas morning, no artifice in his obvious delight. “I loved the actresses who arrived in jeans and flip-flops and transformed into divas. Or they arrived looking like a star just to be turned into a washwoman. Papá gave me my first makeup credit when I was four. I was beating faces before I could read!”

What a different world Alejandro had known as a child, film sets beneath Spanish skies, movie premieres and award ceremonies, the sort of Bohemian life that would probably make a film all of its own. His father’s death had shattered all that, and when his mother was first photographed on the arm of the Duke of Albany, that teenage boy’s life, from the halcyon bohemian days to the death that ended them, became tabloid fodder. No wonder Alejandro couldn’t bear the confines of boarding school. It must have been like prison for someone like him. It was all in the file, but the file was cold fact, the reality was far more human.

“Four? That’s so cute!” Mel said. “Sergeant, don’t you think Alejandro would’ve been really cute when he was four?”

“I…I suppose so. Little Alejandro wielding his makeup brush.” Joe laughed. “So are you turning Mel into a Picasso again today? I don’t know the first thing about makeup, but this is really interesting. It’s art.”

And yes, Joe was surprised. He’d never thought of makeup as art before, but his knowledge of it didn’t extend much beyond the expensive range of cosmetics that took up Wendy’s dressing table.

“You can see me when I was four if you know where to look. I was in all of Papà’s films!” He went back to his tea-making. “I made my debut in Mamá’s belly and had a little role in every film right until the last. When Papá won the Oscar, I went up on stage with him, you know that? Little tuxedo, trainers because I thought I was edgy, and Papá picked me up and gave the Oscar to me and I carried it around for a week!”

No wonder Alejandro had struggled to adapt to his new life as the stepson of a duke. “What a glamorous life you lived! Weren’t you the little boy in A Dove in Winter, playing marbles on the balcony?”

“Yes!” He looked to Joe, beaming brighter than ever. “It was free, you know, playing in this amazing world, all this make believe? No Picasso for Mel today, sadly. Instead we’ll be making this gorgeous young woman look like somebody who was buried six months ago and dug up this morning.”

It looked sunny in Spain even in winter, Joe reminded himself. He couldn’t see much of the boy playing marbles in the man before him. But to come from that enchanted world to rainy England, shoved into a boarding school… Joe glanced around the studio. Was this Alejandro’s attempt to recreate his lost world?

“I’m going to be a zombie sort of thing.” Mel held out her arms and let out an undead wail. “Can’t wait!”

“Tea first!” Alejandro passed a mug to Mel then crossed to join Joe and pass him his drink. He put his hand on Joe’s shoulder and peered down at the book, where a seemingly naked woman had disappeared into the garish neon make-up that covered her entire body, transforming her into a poised chameleon. “The chameleon! A cliche really but it always got a cheer on the night. We won’t be bodypainting a naked Lady Mel today.”

Mel looked over and gave them both a very saucy look. “Sadly. But I wouldn’t want to embarrass Sergeant Joe!”

“It takes a lot to embarrass me.” Now if Alejandro stripped off—Joe parked that thought as soon as it rose from the depths, and took a very long slug of tea. Alejandro scrubbed Joe’s hair matily then pirouetted across the studio to rejoin Mel and pick up his own drink.

“To the mirrors, Lady Mel, let’s get you all smocked up and ready.”

Mel whooped and half-danced her way towards a chair sat in front of a mirror. It was set up not unlike a barber’s. Joe followed, finding somewhere to sit with the book and his mug of tea where he could keep an eye on the front door.

“Go on, Alejo, make me look horrific!”

“Zak’s short is really important to him,” Alejandro explained as he came to stand behind the chair. “No computers or prosthetics, just makeup, in-camera effects and his own genius. Zak’s been shortlisted in the Prix du Salem for the last three years and he’s determined to win next year. He thinks going back to basics is going to be what does it!”

Joe nearly spat out his tea, trying not to laugh. “Prix du Salem? Really? I’ve never heard of that.” He’d heard of other prizes, though, and the duchess’s Best Actress BAFTA had pride of place on her mantlepiece, next to her late husband’s Oscar. “Sorry, I’ll try better in future not to spit tea everywhere.”

“Well, it’s not very big in the prize world,” said Alejandro, who had carried that Oscar around like a teddy bear in his younger days. “But Zak’s younger brother won it a few years ago and he’s obsessed with getting his own. We’ve been together for six months and no matter which singers he works with, how massive the budgets for the videos, all he really wants is this tacky gold skull for his trophy wall!”

That didn’t sound like love’s young dream.

“You’re quite a trophy for him,” Mel said. “Bet he hopes your mum will introduce him to Almodóvar or someone like that. And I bet she won’t!”

“She met Zak in LA a couple of months ago. Hated him on sight.” Alejandro dropped his voice as though his boyfriend might be there to hear. “He was high. I wanted the floor to swallow me up.”

“Not the best way to impress his future mother-in-law.” Mel caught Joe’s glance in the mirror. She was clearly not one of Zak’s greatest fans.

The mention of drugs made Joe’s hackles rise. It was another risk that Alejandro was exposed to. And there was nothing in the file about Zak’s drug use.

“Does he make a habit of that sort of thing, Alejandro?” Joe tried to sound casual but he knew all too well that his interrogative police tone could never be entirely concealed.

“He’s an artist, he— I don’t!” Alejandro turned to look at him, his eyes wide. “Oh, you’re going to find out, aren’t you? I tried it once, just a line, and I hated it. Mel, do you remember? I called you after in a state, just after you’d been over to see us in LA?”

“God, yes. I was so worried, I nearly got back on the plane!” Mel shook her head. “But you’re not going to arrest him for that, Sergeant Joe, are you?”

“No.” Joe tried not to sound too tight-lipped. “But you do have to be careful, Alejandro. Might be worth asking Zak to dial it down a bit, or just not take it at all. If I have to pat him down and I find it on him, then it’s possession and I can’t ignore it.”

“I can’t ask Zak to do anything, it’s not that sort of relationship.” He turned back to the mirror, meeting Joe’s gaze in the reflection. And the look in Alejandro’s eyes wasn’t the look of love, it was almost fearful. “I can mention it, but… He has an artistic temperament.”

Something stirred in the back of Joe’s mind, but he couldn’t quite place it. Second day back on the job. His copper’s brain was rusty. “I can have a word with him.”

“No!” Alejandro whirled round to face him. “No, you mustn’t! I said I’ll mention it. Please promise me that you won’t say anything until I’ve had a chance? I told you yesterday, it’s me who gets ranted at, not you. Promise me, Joe!”

Joe held up his hand. “All right, I won’t say anything.” Unless…could someone on coke say all those vile things in those comments? But would someone that coked up remember to cover their tracks? Unlikely. “Just remember though, I have to be aware of any threats towards you, Alejandro. I’m here to protect you.”

Mel sighed happily. “I wish I had a bodyguard. Not that anyone’s threatening me!”

“We can’t all be Whitney.” Alejandro offered Joe a little hint of a smile, then took a deep breath. “Zak’s just desperate to get this prize, he can’t stand his brother having it when he doesn’t. He went on some sort of mad spree on Halloween, I haven’t heard from him since then until this morning. He doesn’t remember any of it, thinks I’ve made it all up to laugh at him. Why would I lie about him and his investors being kicked out of a club for throwing champagne bottles at people? Why would I lie about Zak hurling his mobile into the Thames when he heard that his brother had got a directing gig at Disney? Zak’s hardly Disney material! It was a horrible Halloween. Mostly.”

Assault, affray, possession of class-A drugs.

What a charmer.

“If he carries on like that, I won’t be the only copper wanting to finger his collar.” Joe realised he was starting to sound like his dad, but he couldn’t stand people who behaved like Zak. Everyone else could manage to go on a night out without breaking the law. Well, apart from Joe. That had been public indecency. And it had been wonderful.

“Sorry you had a shitty Halloween, babe.” Mel squeezed Alejandro’s hand. “And you were so looking forward to it.”

“It ended really well, but the beginning and the middle bit wasn’t so good.” He stooped to kiss her cheek. “Now, to make you hideous—if that’s even possible!”

It had never really occurred to Joe that makeup could be magic, as Alejandro put it, but watching his charge work, he began to see that there was more than a little alchemy to it. These weren’t the neat, sleek compacts and brushes of Wendy’s dressing table, each with its place and use. Instead, Alejandro was like a wizard making enchantments. He mixed colours and created contours, turning pink, perfect skin into an ashen grey corpse shroud, hollow and sunken and nightmarish. Bit by bit, Melanie began to disappear like canvas beneath paint, but though Joe could see the artistry, there was something disappointing in the creature that was emerging. The photos of Alejandro’s work online and in the glossy book were vivid and bright, eye-popping in their colour and ingenuity but this was just like any other zombie, only an exceptionally well-drawn one. It was like hiring Picasso and asking him to draw a stickman.

Joe might be a copper, not an artist, but he knew this couldn’t really be Alejandro’s best work. There were no primary colours for a start.

Before Joe could remark on Mel’s transformation, The Flight of the Bumblebee rang from his phone. “Sorry. I’d better take this.”

Joe went off towards the door, hoping the signal might improve if he was near glass. “Wendy? Hi. You did get my message, didn’t you?”

“Should I keep him? Hashtag hot men!” Her tone was as cold as it had been on the day she had told Joe that she was going to leave him, the same day he nearly lost his life. The day his world should have changed forever and didn’t. “What happened to secrecy and a low profile? People are calling you James Bond on bloody Instagram. You have a fucking hashtag! You’re Alejandr007!”

“How did you find it?” Joe had never thought of Wendy following makeup artists on Instagram. Inspirational quotes and autumn leaves viewed through misty filters were more her thing. “I wanted whoever’s bothering my principal to see that he’s got a CPO. Hoped it might make them back off.”

“How did I find it? Everyone in the office fell over themselves to show it to me. What the hell is Patrick thinking?”

Joe bit his lip. He wandered towards a pile of sketchbooks and started to look through them, flipping through what must be Alejandro’s makeup designs. “Are you the CPO here? Did you go to police training college? Is Patrick your boss? If the answer to those three questions is no, then…then…” Joe thought of Paloma again, of her soft kiss and her warm touch. And I’ll never see her again. “Then leave me to get on with my job.”

“Do you remember when I was going to leave you and you asked me if I was having an affair?” Wendy didn’t wait for him to reply, though of course he remembered. She had hesitated just a little too long before denying it, and Joe had known then that there was someone else. “Well, I sometimes wonder if I should. I’m virtually single anyway. I didn’t have to stay with you, Joe. I earn more than enough to have a great life, you’d miss me a lot more than I’d miss you!”

“So let me get this right…” Joe’s words stopped in his throat as he stared at the sketchbook. He was fairly sure he was looking at a zombie, but it was incredible, with a huge screaming mouth that looked as if it went beyond the model’s actual mouth. It was extraordinary. Then he blinked. I’m on the phone for God’s sake. “Wendy, are you seriously saying you want to have some sort of revenge affair because I’m on Instagram? That’s…that’s bizarre. Your knees are all over Instagram, looking like a pair of sausages because you’re posing with a cup of coffee. I haven’t threatened to have an affair over that.”

“I worked bloody hard to become a partner, Joe, I’m allowed the odd bit of downtime.” He heard her sigh, that pained, practised sigh. “When we got married, I thought you were going to be at the top. More walking the corgis, less camping it up with the son of that bloody duchess! All those flowers and visits when you were in the hospital, you’d have thought she was your wife. Did you sleep with her? Is that it?”

Joe took the phone from his ear and stared at it in utter disbelief. It was displaying a photo of Wendy, holding up a glass of wine. She looked happy. But she would. He’d taken the photo when she was celebrating being made partner.

“How dare you accuse me of unprofessional conduct! You could lose me my job if you go round saying that.” Joe tried to edit out the rage in his voice. Shouting down the phone at his wife was hardly professional either. “No, I didn’t have an affair with the duchess. She treated me like a nephew. And yeah, so she came to visit me in the hospital, but if it wasn’t for me, she’d have been in the bloody hospital.”

“You threw yourself in front of a speeding car to save her life, Joe.” But that was his job, surely she understood what he had committed to when he joined this team. “Why would you do that for anyone unless you were sleeping with them?”

“I didn’t plan to get run over. I pushed her out of the way, because that’s my job, and I couldn’t get out of the way in time.” Joe’s scalp hurt, and he realised he was tugging at his hair. He relaxed his hand, flexing his fingers. “Surely you’ve seen the CCTV footage that ended up leaked online? Maybe you want to shout at me about that too!”

“I have to go. People are waiting for me. I don’t spend my days doing bugger all!”

“Lucky old me and my important wife.” Joe ended the call before she could reply. If she was still even there to listen. He pressed his eyes closed for a moment, trying to think clearly. When he opened his eyes again, he was looking at Alejandro’s fantastic sketch. “Sorry, Wendy’s a bit… Executive stress, you know how it is.”

“We were only listening a little bit. Un poco,” Alejandro promised. “You and Wendy, me and Zak, it must be the season for it! Come over and see my zombie, I want to know what both of you think. Be brutal if you need to, because Zak will.”

Joe pocketed his phone and picked up the sketchbook, his thumb marking the place. He hoped Alejandro wouldn’t tease him about having an affair with his dear mamá. “Actually, I was having a look through your designs…hope you don’t mind. I came across this one and I thought, well, it’s cracking!”

Joe opened the pad on the small table below the make-up mirror.

Mel gasped. “O. M. G. Alejo, that’s so cool!”

“Do you recognise that model?” Alejandro pointed at himself. “Me and my big mouth!”

“This one on Mel looks…looks solidly zombie-ish, but that’s great!” Joe nudged him. “Wouldn’t you get a Best Make-Up Award with this other design?”

“Well…” He rested his elbow on Joe’s shoulder and looked at Mel’s reflection. “What do you think, Lady Zombie? I think Joe is trying to say, without saying it, that this is maybe a bit dull?”

“Well, darling, Sergeant Joe would be right!” Mel winked at Joe in the mirror. “Please do the scary wide mouth one, Alejo! Your Insta followers will love it!”

“I’d like to but…” He turned, looking at Joe as though hoping for an answer to an unspoken question. “This design that you’re wearing…it’s Zak’s. He has a very strong vision, I don’t think he wants me to do any imagining, just to paint his vision by numbers. I don’t think he’d like me to go too far away from this but honestly, it’s not going to win any prizes. It’s just a bit…” He winked. “Generic.”

“No, Zak won’t win a reward for generic,” Mel agreed. “But this design here that Joe’s found…just give it a go. And if he doesn’t like it, he’s a wanker, darling.”

“It’s a worth a try, isn’t it?” Joe asked. “And if he doesn’t like it, well, nothing wrong with you doing a test if you want. You’ve been doing makeup since you were a child. You’re not going to let someone you’ve known six months tell you what to do.” Joe picked up one of the brushes and ran its soft bristles across the back of his hand. “Even if you’ve only known me two days, and I’m telling you what to do as well!”

“Yeah, you are. But you are James Bond.” Alejandro laughed. “I suppose it won’t hurt, if we get lots of photos of them anyway. Then Zak can choose his favourite. He might even appreciate the extra effort!”

“Yeah, I am James Bond!” Joe raised his eyebrow, Bond-style. “Shall I take a photo of you and Mel for Insta? Or are the designs under wraps?”

“Zak would literally kill me if I put this online, but we need photos for us.” He put his arm around Joe’s shoulders and gave him a quick squeeze. “I want you in them too, Sergeant, because I need pictures of that jacket if I’m going to make a copy.”

Literally kill Alejo?

Joe was definitely looking more into Zak’s background. Alejandro was surely exaggerating, but Joe wasn’t going to leave anything to chance. And that arm around his shoulder… Alejandro was warming to him, at least. Which made his job easier. “You want me in the photos too? Yeah, don’t put them on Insta, or Wendy’ll ring up and shout at you too!”

So Alejandro balanced his phone on the table and set the timer, then marshalled Joe and Mel into the frame, the generic if well-painted zombie settled in between the two men. It was certainly a better day than yesterday, if not exactly the usual duties a CPO should expect. But it was all the more exhilarating for it.

Once the photo was taken, Mel reached for the tissues and makeup remover. “Let’s get the exciting zombie makeup on, Alejo!”

“No, no, wait!” He held up his hand. “I need to get more pictures for Zak, he wants to see close-ups, textures. Two minutes, then you can clean off. There’s olive oil in the shower room if the paint’s too stubborn.”

Olive oil? It’s another world.

“Mr DeMille wants to do his close-ups!” Mel laughed. Alejandro snatched up his phone and went to work, snapping pictures of his model from every conceivable angle, then photographing the palettes and colours he had used to create it too.

Joe didn’t like the panic that had been in Alejandro’s voice when Mel had tried to take the make-up off. He wandered off into a corner and tapped out a quick email on his phone to Patrick.

Commander – concern re Peanut’s boyfriend, Zak Smythe-Unwin. History of dv with other partners? Also reports of class A drug use. Also - Peanut has a friend not mentioned in the file – Lady Melanie, daughter of the Earl of Southampton. Please background check. JW.

 

“Okay, Lady M, you may wash!” Alejandro declared. “Another cuppa, I think!”

“I can go and grab some sandwiches if anyone wants them?” Mel suggested. “I could even go like this—we are in Camden. No one’d think it’s weird!”

“That’s all right, isn’t it?” Alejandro looked to Joe. “Mel can go and get us something if we stay here?”

“I’ve got one of those alarm thingies, too.” Mel mimed pressing it.

Joe weighed up their options. Having someone deliver the sandwiches opened up the risk to the troll finding out where Alejandro’s studio was.

“Okay, it should be fine. Although best to take the makeup off first. And keep to busy roads. Definitely no shortcuts along the canal.” His voice softer, Joe added, “I don’t mean to scare you, but we have to be cautious at the moment.”

Mel nodded as she started to clean off the makeup. “I won’t let them hurt my friend.”

“It’s a little thing, really.” Alejandro busied himself at the makeup table, tidying and organising. “Just if Zak asks, Mel, I didn’t have a sandwich. He’s avoiding carbs and he’s asked me to support him on his journey. But can you get me some crisps too, sweetie?”

The thought of Alejandro hiding his sandwich from his boyfriend made Joe want to head out and get fish and chips for the three of them.

“Yeah, of course,” Mel replied. “Any other requests? Sergeant Joe?”

“Ham’s fine, but I’m happy with anything, really.”

“Can I have piles and piles and piles of cheese?” Alejandro asked. He reached into his pocket and produced a twenty-pound note. “And big thick wedges of bread!”

Once Mel had gone, Joe and Alejandro were alone. It felt awkward now that Mel wasn’t there and Joe suspected why.

“Look, honestly, in case it’s bothering you, I didn’t have an affair with your mum. She’s great, but there’s rules. No hanky-panky!” Joe chuckled. “And…she’s not my type.”

“She’s the most beautiful woman in the world over fifty. It must be true, Vogue said it.” Alejandro turned to look at Joe, a rather mischievous look on his face. “I don’t think you had an affair with Mamá because guess what, you’re not her type either. She prefers a less…” He paused, searching for the word, but Joe suspected it might not be too complimentary when he found it. “Well, Mamá’s never been one for muscles.”

“True. She did marry the Duke of Albany!” Joe laughed. Phew. Playfully, he raised his arm, flexing his biceps. The leather jacket bulged just a little. “He’s not known for going to the gym.”

“Oh my God!” Alejandro clapped his hands together. “Can I touch it? Just a little squeeze?”

He thinks I’m straight. It’s fine.

“Go on, then.” Joe flexed his arm again. Alejandro practically trotted across the studio, flexing his fingers excitedly, as though he were about to unwrap a present. Upon reaching Joe he took a deep breath then, with great care, he wrapped his hand around Joe’s arm and squeezed, giving a shriek of excited appreciation.

Suddenly bashful, Joe laughed. “Can’t say that happens very often!” He flexed again, while his biceps was under Alejandro’s hand. Don’t think about how pretty he is. Not that I was.

“My God!” He’s a wind-up merchant, Joe reminded himself, trying everything he can to embarrass the straight man copper. “No wonder your wife wants to keep an eye on you. I bet you can be a player, Sergeant, can’t you? Wild nights in exotic places?”

“No, I’m very well behaved.” Joe flexed again. Paloma had been a one-off in five arid years. A moment of madness when he had allowed himself to believe that his life could be his own. “I’m not really James Bond.”

“Do you have children?” Alejandro withdrew his hand and blinked up at Joe. “You probably aren’t allowed to tell me. Just…if you do, don’t ever send them away to school.”

Joe shook his head. “I don’t have any. But if I did…no, I wouldn’t send them away to school. And if it means anything, if I’d been at that school with you, I would’ve sorted out those bloody Hooray Henrys for you.”

“I bet you would too.” He smiled, a little rueful. “I’ll talk to Zak, but he won’t listen. And your arms are better than his, just so you know.”

“You have to be careful. There could even be a risk with his dealer, for instance. And…” Joe stared off at an elaborate Venetian-style mask, decked with ribbon and painted in swirls. “And it worries me that you seem afraid of him. Could he be your troll, Alejandro?”

“No, because he doesn’t need to hide to be cruel.” Alejandro shook his head, but he kept his dark gaze on Joe. It was a damning conclusion on the man he was supposed to care for. “Have you ever—I bet you haven’t—but have you ever made a mistake and then you just have to live with it? Not Leviticus, I don’t mean that, but— Sorry, I’m just being silly.”

Joe wasn’t sure if he should answer. But it was true, he had. “Well, yeah, I have.” I should’ve asked Paloma for her number. “More than one, actually.”

“Does it get better?”

He knows.

Was that overheard phone call enough for Alejandro to realise? “Doesn’t look like it, I’m afraid.”

Alejandro nodded. “Maybe he’ll like the makeup. He’s lovely when he’s not high. Nicer, anyway.”

Joe sighed. “Funny how he doesn’t want to do carbs, but is quite happy sticking all that toot up his nose! I’m not sure that potatoes are the problem where he’s concerned.”

“You’re annoyingly easy to like, you know.” Alejandro made a fist and lightly knocked it against Joe’s shoulder. “Stop being easy to like and having those arms!”

“I have experience when it comes to Spanish divas.” Joe winked. “You know, I used to hear your mum on the phone to you. There was always a definite pattern. She’d start all happy and soft, then she’d start to get annoyed, then she’d be in a rage, then she’d get tears in her eyes and she’d blow kisses down the phone. I’d always wonder what you’d been getting up to, though perhaps I daren’t ask!”

“I’ve always been an angel.” He quirked one of his immaculate eyebrows. “Whatever you might have heard. I’m just an angel who likes cheese sandwiches!”

As if on cue, Mel arrived with their lunch. “Sarnies! Hop to it, chaps!”

Lunch was dispatched with fairly soon, although Joe couldn’t miss the look of joy and the noises of delight made by Alejandro as he munched his way through his contraband carbs. Once all the crumbs had been cleared away, Mel returned to the makeup chair and Alejandro worked his spell again. Joe kept half an eye on the door, but his attention kept drifting towards what Alejandro was achieving. Seeing the design in the sketchbook was one thing, but seeing it in the flesh was something else. A riot of neon and a cartoonish style, with that huge mouth that extended down to Mel’s chest by the magic of makeup and body paint. Alejandro had created something unique. Still a zombie, only his kind of zombie. There was nothing generic about that.

“Okay!” Alejandro seemed so alive as he put down the last brush, fired up with enthusiasm for what he’d created. “Sergeant, Lady M, verdicts, please. Brutal as you like, I’m ready!”

“Fantastic!” Joe said.

Mel’s actual mouth hung open under the makeup. “I’ve never seen anything this cool before in my life.”

“It’s better, isn’t it?” He tapped his finger to his lips. “Zak must like it, right? Let’s get some photos!”

So they went through the ritual again, the group photos, the close-ups, the record of paints and brushes and mixed colours that had gone into this neon nightmare. Yet Joe couldn’t help but suspect that it was all going to end in tears, because Zak didn’t seem like the sort of man who would want to share the limelight.

I just hope I’m wrong.

As Mel took photos of her own, Alejandro sat down at a laptop and crafted what seemed to be a very carefully constructed message to Zak, attaching the photos of his endeavours. Only when that was done did he declare, “This has been my best day in ages!”

Joe snapped round to look at Alejandro’s phone as it buzzed with an incoming message. “Do you want me to look?” His reply was a nod, but Alejandro’s smile had already disappeared into a grimace.

Joe picked up the phone. At least it wasn’t the troll. They presumably hadn’t got Alejandro’s number. “It’s from Zak. He says ‘I’m coming over’. Not a man of many words, is he?”

“Oh God.” Alejandro rose from his seat. “I shouldn’t have done that second paint. He told me what he wanted and it wasn’t that, he wanted what I did first.”

Mel grimaced at Joe. Then she told Alejandro, “Maybe it’s not my business, but your boyfriend shouldn’t be stifling your creativity.”

“He’s going to go nuts.” He paced the studio, filled with nervous energy. “Would you mind keeping the paint on, Mel? If he sees it in the flesh— I mean, it is pretty amazing, isn’t it? It is, isn’t it, Joe?”

“Yes, it’s—I’ve never seen anything like it!” Joe headed over to the kettle. “I’ll put a brew on. He’ll be fine with a cup of tea in him.”

At that moment the studio shook. It was only a train passing overhead but all Joe could think of was Jack and the Beanstalk as the giant’s footsteps heralded his advance.

“I’m coming over.” Alejandro reread the text. “He’s furious, I can tell. And he should be, shouldn’t he? Because he asked me to do a thing and I did something else. I trampled all over his vision!”

Mel rushed over and hugged Alejandro. “You took his vision and made it way more badass! If he wants generic zombies, he didn’t ask the right person.”

“Do you think?” He returned her hug, clinging to her.

“Yes! I wouldn’t tell you that if I didn’t mean it.” Mel ruffled his hair. “You’re so talented. I love being your model, I never know what you’ll come up with next!”

“Wait until he sees you—he’s going to love it.” He grinned. “Sergeant Joe does!”

Joe laughed. “I still can’t quite believe that the Earl of Southampton’s daughter is under there.”

“Will you let me paint you one day?” Alejandro asked. “Say yes!”

“Erm…if you’d like to.” At least that was one way of keeping busy on the job. “What would you turn me into?”

“What would you like to be? Consider me yours to command.” He looked Joe up and down, teasing. “You’re already James Bond.”

“Blofeld’s cat!” Mel cackled.

“Probably not,” Joe replied. “Although interesting suggestion. How about… I saw a photo once of someone who’s makeup made them look like a pop art cartoon. Dots all over their face. Can you do that?”

“Oh, in my sleep.” Alejandro laughed. “Tomorrow?”

“Do it, go on, Sergeant Joe!” Mel clapped her hands. “And if the troll turns up, you can chase after them in full makeup. It’d be a-amazing!”

“Well, why not?” Joe said. Alejandro gave a squeal of excitement and threw his arms around Joe’s neck, just for a moment. Joe hugged him back, then awkwardly dropped his arms. “Sorry. Everyone’s getting carried away!”

Alejandro laughed, his sparkling gaze settling on Joe’s. Joe raised his hand again, about to touch Alejandro’s cheek, when a heavy knock fell against the door. Joe was on the alert at once, especially when a hoarse voice bellowed, “Open the fucking door!”

As though someone had touched him with a hot brand, Alejandro leapt back and gasped, “Oh no!” He looked at the door, then at Joe, then back at the door. “I shouldn’t have done that second paint.”

“Zak?” Joe looked for the answer in Alejandro’s eyes. “You know the drill. I’ll open the door.”

He nodded, wringing his hands together. Then he looked to Mel and mouthed, “Help.”

“Open up, Al!” Zak yelled.

Joe peered through the frosted glass, trying to match the figure outside to the man in the folder. It appeared to be him. Alas.

Joe opened the door a fraction. “Hi, there. And you are…?”

“Oh, look, it’s James Bond!” Zak smirked. “I’m Zak. You’re holding my boyfriend hostage. Let me in.”

Zak shoved against the door and, apparently forgetting that Joe was there, strode across the room to Alejandro.

“My vision, you absolute tool! What’s all this?” He gestured at Mel’s face. “The fuck is that?”

“Just—” He gave a weak smile, the flamboyant young man gone. “I thought you might like to see another option?”

“Why?” Zak threw out his hands, sneering. “Why would I want to?” He pressed his fingertips to his brow, as if he were fending off a headache. “It’s my artistic vision, Al! And what have you done? You’ve given me a posh bird going to a crap Halloween rave! Fuck’s sake!”

Mel pouted. That at least was visible despite the makeup.

“Imagine it under a black light, we could use ultraviolet. It’d pop!” Alejandro managed a smile, a child eager to please.

“Pop? I didn’t want fucking pop, did I!” Zak slammed his fist down on a table, and Joe advanced.

“Hey. None of that,” he warned.

“Who the fuck are you anyway? Another of these police dickheads who follow Al about?”

Joe pressed his lips together and took a moment before replying. “It’s unwise, Mr Smythe-Unwin, to insult a police officer, even if it’s not illegal. I am Mr Fuente’s CPO.”

Zak looked him up and down. Assessing, dismissing. And sneering again. “I can protect my fucking boyfriend, thank you very much. Can’t I, Al?” He put his arm around Alejandro’s shoulders. Too tightly, Joe thought. Alejandro seemed to shrink in stature, his gaze beseeching before it fell away.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“So you can piss off, can’t you? Seeing as it’s not illegal to insult you.” Zak smirked, his arm around Alejandro even tighter. “I didn’t like seeing you in a photo with my boyfriend. Crossed a line, didn’t you? Is that illegal?”

“I serve on behalf of Her Majesty the Queen. That’s why there’s a crown on the shoulder of my uniform.” Joe increased in height. He wasn’t scared of a pretentious gobshite like Zak. “And I’m also here at her personal request to protect a member of her family. So if you want me to piss off, Mr Smythe-Unwin, you better hop in a cab and go to Buckingham Palace.”

“Al…” Zak’s lips brushed Alejandro’s cheek. “You can tell your nan to get rid of the hired muscle, can’t you?”

“I don’t want to,” he replied in a tiny voice. “Fuckface called me a queer cunt this morning, it was horrible. It’s frightening, Zak.”

“It’s just some tit on the internet.” Zak shook his head. “This is way over the top. Someone’s leaving banter on your photos, you get scared, then some muscley bloke moves into your house. Do you like that, Al? Hoping to walk in on him in the shower?”

Zak almost sounded as if he was joking, but the underlying threat in his voice was repellent. Mel heard it too, Joe was sure. She had picked up a large blusher brush and she curled and uncurled her hand around the handle as if it would somehow be useful to wallop Zak with.

“I’m with you.” Alejandro forced the smile a little, clearly trying for something brighter. Instead he just looked ill. “Joe— Sergeant Wenlock’s here in case something happens because you can’t always be around. The photo was just me being silly, you know how I am. I’m extra, you’re always saying it.”

“Yeah, well don’t do it again.” The demand was throwaway, as if Zak were always dishing out orders. He probably did. He seemed the type. “I don’t want to lose my little Al. Film star mum, Nan wears a crown, pretty to have on my arm when I’m arse-kissing investors, not too bad at sticking on the slap. What’s not to like?”

He glanced at Joe then, a possessive snarl curling his lip. Did he want Alejandro for who he was? Flamboyant and creative? No, Alejandro was Zak’s meal ticket, and he didn’t do much to hide it.

He kissed the top of Alejandro’s head. His voice now clotting with fake affection, he said, “My little Al! Stop nicking my spotlight, you!”

“Your designs are amazing,” Alejandro told his boyfriend, tilting his head up to look at Zak. But they weren’t. They were…generic. Like a plain black suit. “Thank you for asking me to paint for you.”

Joe didn’t need to be able to see Mel’s face to know that she shared his opinion of Zak. Even covered in neon paint and makeup as she was, her eyes gave her away as Zak kissed his boyfriend, but the gesture looked anything but romantic. Zak engulfed Alejandro, the muscular arm that held him not so much an embrace as a control and even as they were kissing, Alejandro seemed to shrink further.

Joe wished he could find an excuse to frisk Zak, find the drugs that were inevitably in his pocket, and chuck him in a cell, far away from Alejandro. Why didn’t Alejandro split up with Zak, or was he really too terrified of him? Those school bullies had a lot to answer for. Were they the reason Alejandro seemed to expect cruelty from those around him? So much for the enviable lives of the rich and famous.

“Cup of tea?” Joe asked.

Zak glanced at him, then at Alejandro, in surprise. “What, you think I’m hanging around?”

“You’re not?” Was that disappointment in Alejandro’s voice, Joe wondered? Or relief? “Did you like what I did with your concept? Did I make it come to life like you’d hoped? I had to make a few little adjustments just to bring out the…”

His voice trailed off as he peered into Zak’s face, seeing anything but appreciation for his work. But the sneer turned into something resembling a grin, and Alejandro looked absurdly grateful for that patronising grimace.

“Yeah, you did my design all right, but dial it down a bit, won’t you?” Zak cackled. “You been on the sniff again?”

“I’m hyper enough without it!” Alejandro laughed. He stole a glance at Joe, then lowered his voice. “How’re you feeling? I was worried when— You were out of it on Halloween, I tried to call—”

“Yeah, I saw you’d tried to ring.” Zak sounded rather bored by his boyfriend’s concern. “No need to worry about me. I’m not the one who cries about online bants!” He shone Joe an unpleasant toothy grin.

Joe came closer. Rising a little on his toes, as if it were a move all coppers learnt at police college, Joe said, “Your boyfriend has received concerning threats against his safety. We’re taking it seriously, and so should you. Any and all threats against Mr Fuente will be evaluated. And that means everyone in Mr Fuente’s circle. Do you understand?”

Zak puffed out his cheeks. “If you say so!”

“And that means no risk-taking behaviour.” Joe raised an insinuating eyebrow and Zak smirked. “Drugs, for instance.”

“Oh my God,” Alejandro murmured. “You promised you wouldn’t—”

“I can handle myself.” Zak prodded his finger against Joe’s chest. “It’s Alejandro who can’t.”

“I’m not accusing anyone of anything,” Joe said. “I am merely ensuring that everyone is aware of the best ways to continue Alejandro’s safety.”

“I told you I’d talk to him! Is that what your promises are worth?” Alejandro jerked free of Zak’s clutching embrace and stalked towards the door. He paused only to slide the bolt back, then wrenched the door open and stepped out of the studio, leaving his bodyguard behind.

Joe glanced back at the scowling Zak and ran after Alejandro. Once he was outside, he scanned the people in the road for the bright blue of Alejandro’s shirt. He spotted him just up ahead and Joe ran, swerving past other people, his focus entirely on his principal. He knew better than to call out, and only said Alejandro’s name once he had his hand on his elbow.

“Come on, mate. You can’t just run off.”

“I almost thought you understood!” He spun to face Joe, his expression a mask of unhappiness. “I asked you— You’re just like the other two, you don’t understand me at all! I told you I’d talk to him!”

“Would you have said a word to that bully?” Joe put his hand on Alejandro’s shoulder. “I have to keep you safe, and that includes making sure that people around you behave responsibly.” Joe stepped closer to him, creating a barrage between Alejandro and people passing by on the pavement. “You don’t need to be scared of him. I won’t let him hurt you, Alejandro. I’m at your side.”

“Are you really wearing a stab vest?” He blinked up at Joe. “I hope he broke a nail when he prodded you.”

“I am really wearing one, yes.” Joe tried a smile. “You can tap it if you like!”

“I bet you say that to all the pretty girls.” But Alejandro clearly couldn’t resist and he tapped his fingertip lightly against Joe’s chest. Then his pout returned. “And I thought that was all muscle!”

Joe smiled properly now. He liked Alejandro’s fascination with his build. “I don’t like to brag, but I’m quite firm under there. Although not quite firm enough to repel weapons!”

“Quite firm?” He looked around then shivered. They should get back inside. “On a scale of one to ten?”

“An eight, easily.” Joe shrugged off his jacket and draped it around Alejandro’s shoulders. He swallowed down a pang as he was suddenly reminded of Paloma. “Here, keep yourself warm in this. Let’s get back to the studio.”

“An eight.” Alejandro snuggled into the jacket, just as Paloma had. Sweet Paloma with her sing-song voice, a world away from Alejandro’s spiky carping. “I’m still a little bit annoyed, but I’m too cold to argue. My private life should be my business.”

Joe gritted his teeth. How could he protect someone who behaved as if they didn’t want to be safe?

Back at the studio, Zak had gone and Mel had put on her coat. “He’s buggered off. I threatened to eat his brains.”

“Are you going home in your paint?” Alejandro clapped his hands together, pitching back from annoyance to delight once more. “Was he still very angry? Should I message him?”

Mel rolled her eyes. “Why don’t you just dump him? Say ‘Get in the bin, Zak.’ He’s so horrible to you, it’d hardly be a loss.”

Alejandro fell silent and Joe remembered the question he had asked when they were alone.

‘Have you ever made a mistake and then you just have to live with it?’

What was Alejandro’s mistake? It didn’t look like love that kept them together and it certainly wasn’t Zak’s winning personality. He had a hell of a meal ticket in Alejandro, but there didn’t seem to be much in it for him. Maybe it was just like Joe and Wendy, easier to pretend the problems weren’t there.

Mel patted Alejandro’s arm. “Time to go. I know which makeup I prefer.” She looked at Joe. “Nice jacket, by the way.”

“We can give you a ride home.” Alejandro slipped the jacket from his shoulders and held it out to Joe. As he did, he asked Mel far too innocently, “Are you going to Vicky’s bash tonight?”

This was the first mention of this bash and he threw it in so casually that it had to be suspicious. Another challenge from Joe’s serial escapee?

“A lift would be great! Well, Granny’s come down on one of her flying visits from Scotland, so I can’t. But I can get my revenge by jumping out on her like this!” Mel made a bizarre zombie-like groaning noise in her throat. Then she asked, “Why, are you going?”

“No, I’m not in the mood to have a nice time now.” He pouted that theatrical pout and looked at Joe. “Don’t worry, Sergeant, I’ll be safely tucked up with Netflix and gin so you can have the boys round or watch the rugby or whatever you like to do.”

“I might clip my toenails, actually.” As Joe took out his phone and called for the car to collect them, he decided on a plan. Alejandro wouldn’t give him the slip again, that much was certain.