The restaurant was candlelit, an intimate space done out in a rich wine colour that made it feel warm and cosy beneath an open beamed ceiling. Daniels wished she’d made more of an effort to dress for the occasion. But she didn’t intend to stop long. She was there under sufferance and was keen to get back to High Shaw where she planned to spend the night. It was closer to home and she could get an early start in the morning.
Her father was sitting directly opposite, smart as a pin in a navy suit with a waistcoat, a spotted tie and pocket handkerchief to match. In many ways he reminded her of Bright. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that they were two of a kind. Immaculate on the outside but flawed when it came to the personal stuff. She’d argued with Bright before leaving his office. His failure to disclose Finch’s obvious flying experience bothered her still. When they had parted she was angry, a mood that only got worse when her father rang her to confirm arrangements for dinner, refusing to take no for an answer.
Sensing she’d gone to another place, Ed Daniels smiled at the women on the next table even though they were strangers. Daniels hated his fake charm. As long as he didn’t know you, you had his undivided attention. They were halfway through their meal, trying hard to ignore the atmosphere between them. Though the seared mullet on her plate was beautifully cooked and smelled delicious, somehow she couldn’t summon up the appetite.
Ed Daniels tucked into his rib-eye, oblivious to his daughter, or so it seemed. He put down his knife and fork, dabbed his mouth with a napkin and lifted the wine bottle. Daniels shook her head, regretting her decision not to cancel. He’d gone to great lengths to celebrate her birthday and she hadn’t had the heart. Recent events had put things into perspective. He was all the family she had now. She owed it to them both to give it a go. But nobody said it would be easy.
‘Can’t you have one glass?’
‘Not even one. I told you I couldn’t make a night of it.’ She looked at her watch. It was gone nine. ‘I’ve still got stuff to do.’
‘It’s your birthday!’
Daniels looked at him. Was he really too dumb to understand what it was like doing her job? Or was he merely pretending to be? He did that sometimes, just to wind her up. Her terms and conditions as a Detective Chief Inspector and SIO on this particular murder investigation didn’t recognize family occasions of any description.
‘I’ve got a lot on.’ She wasn’t telling any lies, although she knew fine well that her squad would’ve knocked off by now, gone home to recharge the batteries and get some kip for a few hours at least. ‘Think yourself lucky I made it at all.’
‘I’m surprised you did.’ Ed picked up his wine. ‘I heard you were busy.’
Daniels bristled. ‘Hank still spying on me, is he?’
‘He has your best interests at heart, Kate. Don’t be so hard on him.’
‘I’m not!’
‘That’s not what it sounds like.’
‘Well, tough!’ Daniels glared at him.
‘Why are you so angry?’ Ed looked at his half-eaten dinner, put down his wine glass and picked up his knife and fork. Daniels watched him slice into the meat, blood-red and cooked to perfection. He didn’t bother to look up. ‘Is it because of Jo?’
Daniels folded her napkin and put it on her side plate. It was a warning not to go any further, advance notice that she was about to leave. When she’d first told Ed of her relationship with Jo Soulsby he hadn’t wanted to know. He certainly didn’t care that it was over. In fact, if anything, he was glad. Did he really expect her to confide in him now? Well, it wasn’t going to happen.
‘I’ve got to go.’
‘Touchy subject?’
‘We’ll do this some other time.’
‘The conversation or dinner?’ He just wouldn’t leave it alone.
The women on the next table glanced in their direction. Her father smiled at them again. To save his blushes, Daniels got up and walked round the table. She gave him a peck on the cheek, made her apologies, promising to make it up to him. On the way out of the restaurant she paid the bill, an action she regretted before she’d pinned her number.
Her father would be furious.
Another thing for him to complain about.
She left the restaurant and walked quickly to her Toyota. She drove away, suddenly feeling lonely and upset. What a way to spend a birthday! She put on some music, a Dixie Chicks album Jo had bought her when they were still together. Track five was playing: ‘You Were Mine’. The lyrics got to her and she turned it off again.
She glanced at her watch, an idea forming. Taking her left hand off the steering wheel she pressed the talking-head icon on her touch-screen Bluetooth device and said:
‘Dial Jo Soulsby.’
The machine said: ‘Pardon?’
Bollocks. ‘Call Jo.’
‘Call Jo, general?’
The Bury device was beginning to annoy her. ‘Yes!’ she said.
The number rang out and then switched to voicemail.
‘Jo, it’s me. I need to speak to you. Can you call me when you get in?’
She hung up.
Almost immediately, the phone rang and the Bury kicked in. ‘Incoming call.’
Daniels could see from the display screen that it was Jo calling. She’d obviously ignored the house phone, then had second thoughts. Or maybe she just hadn’t got there in time. Daniels pressed the receiver icon.
‘Ringing me from your police number now?’ Jo said cheerfully. ‘Wow! Things have moved on!’
She was teasing. There was a time when they only used pay-as-you-go unregistered mobiles to ring each other, a must-have item for those who dealt in deception. It had been Daniels’ idea to keep their relationship private – secret – for fear that coming out would hamper her chances of promotion within the force. Putting ambition before Jo had been a fatal mistake.
‘Happy birthday, by the way.’ There was hint of sadness in Jo’s voice now. ‘You doing anything nice? Didn’t have time to buy you a card. Anyway, I know how you hate all that hearts and flowers stuff.’
At least she’d remembered to forget.
‘Didn’t expect one.’ Daniels tried to sound upbeat. Jo could’ve picked up the phone. If she’d wanted to. ‘You in for the rest of the night?’
‘It’s a bit late, isn’t it?’
‘Sounds like you’re still up.’ Daniels could hear music in the background. Jackson Browne, one of Jo’s favourite artists. ‘I need to talk to you.’
‘About?’
‘Work! What else is there?’
‘Thought I was about to get lucky,’ Jo said.
Daniels’ heart skipped a beat. She still craved a close relationship with this woman and yet she was her own worst enemy in achieving it. She knew she’d said the wrong thing. Again. She also knew she’d have to up her game if she stood any chance of a reconciliation.
Was this a come-on?
Or wishful thinking on her part?
‘I could be there in twenty . . .’ Daniels hesitated after saying that. She could hardly breathe and felt much like a fifteen-year-old trying to arrange a first date. She turned right, heading east along the A69 towards Newcastle. ‘It would be great to see you.’
‘Just being friendly,’ Jo came back. ‘I have Kirsten here.’
Hearing those words was like a knife in the guts. Daniels felt like a fool. She did a reciprocal at the Styford roundabout and floored the accelerator, heading in the opposite direction.
‘Kate? You still there?’
‘Yep, traffic’s a nightmare, sorry.’ Daniels lied.
There wasn’t a soul on the road.
‘Is it urgent?’ Jo asked.
‘No, I’ll call you in the morning.’ Daniels hung up. She looked at the talking-head icon. ‘And you can fuck off too!’ she said.