Mickey Philips had received the call over an hour ago. Murder in Jaywick. Get yourself there as quickly as possible.
Now he parked as near to the crime-scene tape as he could. Silenced the Fleet Foxes CD that had been playing and made his way to the barrier, warrant card at the ready.
Fleet Foxes, for God’s sake. It was something Phil had burned for him and left in the car, insisting he listen to it. He had played it once, under sufferance, then relegated it to the bottom of the glove box, treating it with the contempt he reserved for most of his boss’s music. At least he hadn’t launched this one out of the window on the A12. The same couldn’t be said for Neil Young’s Sleeps With Angels album.
But today he had enjoyed it. Especially ‘Your Protector’; that track had struck a chord with him. Played it three times. Even started singing along. And he knew why.
Anni. And the night they had just spent together.
As he walked, he thought back. They had sat together on the sofa in her living room. Glass of wine in her hand, beer in his. Budvar. Because she knew he liked it. He hadn’t noticed at the time, but afterwards he realised that she must have got that in especially for him in case he ever called round. That made him smile.
Anni had been curled in one corner, legs beneath her, Mickey at the other end. Trying to relax but remaining upright and forward instead. She had put some music on. Fleet Foxes.
‘Not usually my thing,’ she had said. ‘Phil downloaded it for me. It’s really grown on me.’
Mickey nodded. Sipped his beer, listened to the harmonies. Something about coming down from the mountain, being gone too long. It wasn’t bad.
‘I think he did me a copy too,’ he said. ‘Never played it.’
‘You should. You might like it.’
‘Yeah,’ he said, looking at her, ‘I might.’
‘After a hard day at work,’ she said, ‘glass of wine, this music, great way to unwind.’
‘Yeah,’ he said.
She placed her wine glass on a side table. Took a deep breath, let it out. Mickey watched her breasts rise and fall as she did so. He couldn’t help it. He put the can to his lips, noticed his hand was shaking. Swallowed hard on the beer, put it down too. His body was burning with desire mixed with a fear of rejection. He looked along the sofa at Anni. She smiled at him.
‘I can think of a better way to relax, though.’
She moved towards him. He thought of picking up his beer can again, draining it, just to take in some courage, but left it where it was. She had worked her way along until she was beside him. She placed her hand on his chest, ran her fingers down his shirt front. Her touch felt good.
She looked at him. Eyes locking with eyes. She smiled. Moved her head in towards him.
The first kiss. The first proper kiss between them. Her tongue was in his mouth, he met hers with his. Touching, exploring, mouth on mouth. Her lips so warm, so soft. Just like he had imagined. And he had imagined this a lot.
He pulled away. Looked at her. She smiled once more, eyes lit by an inner fire.
‘D’you think … ’ he said.
‘Yes … ’ Her voice breathy.
‘D’you think we should be doing this? What with … y’know. Everything that’s happened today.’
She sat back from him. ‘Don’t you want to?’
‘Yes, but … ’ He sighed. ‘The boss. Everything that’s happened.’
She sat back from him. ‘If you don’t want to … ’
‘I do.’
‘Come on, then.’ She leaned forward. ‘After today, I think this is just what we need.’
And she was back beside him, mouth on his, hands running over his clothed body, finding buttons, zips. Undoing them. Pulling his shirt off, breaking off from their kiss to slide her hands over his chest, smile.
He moved in to her neck, began kissing her there, hands slowly caressing her. Moving gently inside her T-shirt, down her chest …
She pushed herself against him. He kept caressing her. Her hands found the buttons of his jeans, began working them open. He kept his hands above her breasts.
Anni stopped what she was doing, looked at him.
‘You OK?’ she said, voice a near-whisper.
He nodded. ‘Yeah.’
‘You sure you want to do this?’
‘Yeah … ’ He frowned. ‘Why?’
‘You just seem … I don’t know. Like you’re holding back.’
‘Holding back? No, I’m … I’m not.’
And she bit his neck. He loved it. Felt an electrically sexual charge run through him. His hands moved down to her breasts. She groaned, pushed her body towards him again. His strokes became slightly more urgent. She stopped once more.
‘Don’t you fancy me?’
‘What? Yeah, course … ’
‘Then show me. I won’t break, you know.’
He sighed. ‘I know, but … ’
‘What?’
‘I’m just … I’m sorry. I just … you’re someone special. To me. Very special. And you know … I respect you.’
‘Good. So you should. And you can still respect me.’ She smiled. ‘In the morning. But tonight, I want some fun.’
‘Permission granted,’ he said, smiling.
And from then on, Mickey didn’t have to be told twice.