Over the kitchen table, Anders Smith fixed Riddick with a stare.
‘I know that look, boss.’ Riddick licked salt from the back of his hand.
‘Good,’ his former DCI replied, running a hand through a mop of blond hair. ‘Pay close attention to it. And stop calling me boss.’
Riddick drank another shot of tequila. There was no lemon to dive for. Bitter fruits repulsed him. ‘Well, if you’re not my boss any more, why do you keep telling me what to do?’
‘Well, I may not be your boss in the police, mucker, but you are crying out for some guidance on life.’
‘You remember the Game of Life?’ Riddick snorted.
‘I do. I played it a few times, until the shit plastic spinner broke. Why?’
‘I was good at it,’ Riddick said, refilling his shot glass.
‘Is anything serious with you?’ Anders played with the top of his walking stick which was leaning against the table.
‘New stick?’ Riddick said.
‘Yep. The last one was falling to bits.’
‘Looks expensive. Shiny.’
‘Well, I’m beholden to it so thought it was worth the investment… Anyway, stop changing the subject… I’m being serious here, pal… You’re drinking too much.’
‘I’ve had a tough day! A murder in Knaresborough! How can that not put you on edge?’
‘You drink every day, Paul.’
Riddick sighed.
‘And not just a little bit, mate.’ He nodded at the bottle of tequila.
‘It’s getting me through the day,’ Riddick said.
‘That’s my point. When you start getting through the day after drinking what you’re drinking, then you know there’s a problem.’
‘If I didn’t drink, my problems would be worse, believe me—’
‘You sound just like me,’ Anders said. ‘Or at least, the me from five years back.’
‘You spent most of your career pissed, boss. And you didn’t do such a bad job of it!’
‘Ha!’ Anders said, sitting up straight in his chair, groaning over the discomfort in his ruined back. ‘Just because I saved two children from a burning house doesn’t make it a good career.’
‘It’s a pretty good place to start!’ Riddick said, pouring more salt onto the back of his hand.
‘Right place, right time, son. Has nothing to do with the way I treated people at work, the way I treated my family.’
‘You were direct, so what? You got things done.’ Riddick licked the salt from his hand.
‘I was a grumpy bastard, and no one liked me.’
‘They loved you.’
‘No. They pretended to love me, Paul. Really, they hated me.’
‘Well, I liked you.’
‘Yeah, but that’s very different.’
‘How so?’
‘You’re like me, as I keep saying.’
‘An alcoholic?’ Riddick drank the shot.
‘Damaged.’
Riddick smiled. ‘You say you were hard work when you were pissed all the time. You’re not exactly uplifting now, are you?’
Anders smiled. ‘You want to know the two reasons I finally stopped drinking?’
Riddick shrugged, pouring himself another shot.
‘Firstly, rosacea.’ He pointed at his bulbous red nose. ‘Have to take antibiotics every day, and it still looks like this. You think everyone respects me, Paul? They call me Rudolph at the chuffin’ golf club!’
Riddick laughed. ‘Second?’
‘Family.’
Riddick reached for the salt.
‘They left me. I lost everything.’
Riddick shook salt onto his hand.
‘I destroyed my family, mate.’ He lifted his new cane and pointed it at Riddick. ‘So, I quit.’
Riddick drank his third shot in ten minutes, and then pushed the bottle away. That would do for now. He looked up at Anders and sighed. ‘I can live with a red nose.’
* * *
After seeing his old boss out, Riddick staggered into his lounge.
He steadied himself against the windowsill and watched Anders, who hadn’t touched a drop, drive away in his diesel-gulping Land Rover.
‘Recovering alcoholics are bad for the environment,’ he slurred.
He turned around and stumbled into the wall. Again, he had to steady himself. Consciousness was on its last legs.
He looked at a picture of Lucy and Molly standing under an overhanging rock with their arms raised to give the illusion that they were lifting it.
‘Brimham Rocks,’ Rachel said, coming up behind Riddick.
He felt his wife’s arms slip around his waist.
‘The only place in modern Britain where health and safety has been chucked out the window,’ Riddick said and snorted.
‘Was fun to watch them climb all over them, though,’ Rachel said.
‘Watching my children running around on a ten-metre-high rock with sheer drops on either side wasn’t my idea of fun.’
Rachel kissed his neck. ‘You had their backs.’
That time, Riddick thought. I had their backs that time.
He reached out and touched Molly’s face, and then Lucy’s.
‘Brimham Rocks, eh?’ Riddick said as a tear ran down his cheek. ‘I bet the Air Ambulance curses its existence.’
‘Go to bed, honey,’ Rachel said. ‘You’re drunk again, and you have work in the morning.’
‘Okay.’
‘Oh, and did you call Cynthia? To arrange another date?’
‘No,’ Riddick said. ‘I wasn’t feeling it.’
‘Well, sleep on it. I think it’ll be good for you.’
‘Whatever you say, Rachel. I love you.’
‘I love you too.’