Chris sat in the back of a taxi, his thoughts filled with Reilly’s latest discovery and its significance or otherwise.
Why would Tony Coffey have had John Crowe’s mobile number?
There could be any number of reasons: the most obvious being that Crowe was Coffey’s source on a story he was researching for the Herald. Yet, Coffey wasn’t a crime reporter and, as a rule, didn’t write about drug dealers, organized criminals or the other unsavory types Crowe had been typically involved with.
More importantly, was there anything significant in the fact that the two men were now dead, both murdered in bizarre circumstances?
Kennedy, with his personal links to Crowe, was going to follow up on it tomorrow, talk to Crowe’s former colleagues and partner to see if any connection between him and the journalist was immediately apparent. If not, then it was simply another loose end in this increasingly frustrating case.
After Kennedy had left for home, on a whim Chris decided to head for his best mate Matt Sheridan’s house for a long overdue visit. He’d called ahead; Matt and his wife were home and delighted at the prospect of seeing him. The couple were parents to Chris’s goddaughter, a gorgeous 18-month-old called Rachel,and he rarely got the opportunity to spend time with her.
‘I’ll just pop in for a few minutes to see Rach before she goes to bed – then I’ll be out of your hair, I promise,’ he’d told Emma on the phone.
‘Not at all, you’re staying for dinner and that’s the end of it,’ she’d insisted. As there was nothing in his own fridge but out-of-date milk and a few mouldy vegetables, Chris didn’t need too much persuading. After such a somber day it seemed fitting to spend time with people he really cared about.
‘Kiss!’ Rachel demanded when he was barely in the door of the Sheridan household – her own special way of pronouncing his name, and demanding a cuddle at the same time. Faced with such a bundle of cuteness – Rachel was all blond curls, bright blue eyes, and a big baby-toothed smile Chris was happy to comply, although it troubled him how much the toddler had grown in the few weeks since he’d last seen her.
He and Matt played happily with Rachel until her bedtime at seven, and while his mate got the little girl ready for bed, Chris chatted with Emma in the kitchen as she prepared dinner.
‘So how’s work these days?’ she asked him, before adding pointedly, ‘And your lovely American colleague, what was her name again?’
Chris rolled his eyes. Emma was a notorious matchmaker, and he rued the day he’d introduced her to Reilly. A few months back, when he’d had a stint in hospital following the work-related shooting injury, a visit from Reilly and his friends had overlapped.
Like the majority of the force, Chris certainly wasn’t immune to Reilly’s charms. There was no denying she was a knockout: great legs, silky hair, huge, appealing eyes ... and more than once he had surreptitiously observed the slim, muscular lines of her body when she was working at a crime scene.
But despite getting to know her better recently, he still felt like he’d barely scratched the surface. To say that Reilly Steel was a complex woman was a huge understatement.
And complex women scared Chris.
‘Work’s fine, and yes, we’re all busy – Reilly too,’ he answered briskly, refusing to be drawn. ‘Can I help with anything?’ he asked, changing the subject as Emma went about setting the table.
‘Same old Chris, all work and no play,’ Emma scolded, shaking her head. ‘But seeing as you asked ... can you organize the glasses?’
‘Sure.’ As he went to the cupboard, his gaze rested on a cream-colored card propped up against the wall on the worktop.
‘I see you guys have a wedding coming up,’ he remarked casually, as Matt returned to the room. He nodded towards the invite; the elaborate gold-colored script on mother-of-pearl card a dead giveaway. ‘Need a babysitter?’
Emma stared at her husband, and was it Chris’s imagination or did a strange look pass between them?
‘Um, my mum is taking Rachel – but thanks,’ Emma replied quickly.
‘Grand. I’m sure you’re looking forward to a night off – not to mention a lie-in,’ he joked, aware that since Rachel’s arrival, time away for the couple was as rare as hen’s teeth. ‘Anyone I know?’ he went on, wondering why the mood seemed to have altered all of a sudden.
‘Well, now that you say it ...’ Matt murmured, and all at once Chris figured out the reason for this silent exchange, and the uncomfortable vibe that had suddenly descended upon the conversation.
‘It’s Mel’s wedding, Chris,’ Emma said gently, confirming his suspicions. ‘We weren’t sure if you would have been—’
‘No, I wasn’t invited,’ he said, keeping his tone even. ‘She told me a while back she was getting married all right, but I wasn’t sure when ...’ He placed a wine glass in front of each table setting. ‘I’m sure it’ll be a great day. Give her my best, won’t you?’
Emma looked at him worriedly. ‘Of course.’
The conversation about the wedding had ended at that, but for Chris the incident lingered in his mind much longer thereafter.
Later that night, as he lay wide awake in the darkness, he was still thinking about Melanie, and trying to remember what she had been like back when they were together happy together.
But all he could focus on was Melanie afterwards, when everything had fallen to pieces.