3

 

He yawned in front of the paper on his desk and checked the time on the toolbar in the screen. It was past nine, on a Saturday night, and he had been working without a break since eight that morning. After visiting the Thompson murder scene, he’d started scrutinising old cases together with Miriam, searching for a trace, but with poor results. Nowadays, all the information and evidence collected in each case was archived in the Metropolitan Police’s servers and could be consulted with a few clicks, but the farther back you looked, the more fragmented and incomplete the data became. The process of transferring them to digital storage proceeded backwards, but it prioritised the crimes believed to be more important. Others, like minor theft or reports to the police that were dropped later, as could happen for sexual assaults, were at the bottom of the list. You had to go back to old paper files, which were full of irrelevant information, yellowed photographs, and barely legible handwritten notes.

Eric took off his reading glasses and pressed two fingers on his brow, as if to shoo away the vicious headache that was already gripping him for hours.

Perhaps he should give up for tonight and get a good night’s sleep. He knew that he would have to make an enormous effort tomorrow to prevent himself from going back to the department. His body needed rest, but his mind didn’t want to stop. Had it stopped, he feared it would allow him to realise how he was living, thus making him spend another holiday wallowing in memories and melancholy, full of self-pity, like it usually happened to him on the weekends he didn’t spend with his son. How much would he have loved to go to bed, sleep all Sunday and wake up finally feeling good on Monday morning! What a shame that he rarely succeeded in allowing himself more than seven hours of sleep, and therefore he would find himself watching the sun rise on yet another day of his useless existence.

And he would end up returning to Scotland Yard.

He turned off the computer, stood up, and put on his jacket. Outside, pouring rain was tapping on the windowpane and Eric had no idea where his umbrella was. Even though St James’s Park Tube station was a short walk away, his clothes would get soaked in the short distance between New Scotland Yard exit and the gate of the railings surrounding the building.

As he walked down the corridor, his peripheral vision glimpsed a light coming from one of the laboratories. So he wasn’t the only one having a late night. He peeked through the doorway and saw a person wearing a lab coat, who had arranged some sealed envelopes on the big table in the centre of the room, whilst checking from time to time the screen of a tablet held by her other hand. Her back was turned, but he recognised her right away. Her graceful bearing and her brown hair with red tones, emphasised by the intense lighting, were unmistakable.

He lingered to watch her. Adele seemed to ignore the fact that she had company. She continued her work in silence. Given that he was leaving, he should at least say goodbye, or maybe ask why she was still there. Anybody else would have, but Eric didn’t know how to behave. For the moment he could look at her, undisturbed; nobody would notice him, not even her. It didn’t happen often, and he didn’t want to deprive himself of that pleasure. But, on the other hand, he felt like there was something deeply wrong in doing so. Perhaps he’d better withdraw without a sound, hoping she wouldn’t realise he’d ever been there.

‘Good evening, boss.’ Her busy tone made him wince just a little. How long had she been aware of his presence? ‘What are you doing here? Working late again today?’ The way she’d said that made it sound like nothing more than the usual polite, empty conversation. Yet just hearing Adele speaking to him aroused in him a sense of excitement, mixed with a subtle panic.

It felt like he’d gone back to being an inexperienced teenager getting all excited when the most beautiful girl in the school happened to say hello to him by chance. He couldn’t have sunk so low. He was her boss, for heaven’s sake!

‘Yeah,’ was all his mouth was able to emit. ‘What are you doing here?’ Yes, he was the boss. ‘You should be at home. Your shift ended quite a while ago.’ He almost bit his own tongue right afterwards. It wasn’t a good idea to let her know he’d checked her shifts. Who knew what she might think?

‘Jane had important plans tonight, and I offered to finish cataloguing these pieces of evidence. It wasn’t like I had anything more interesting to do.’

The indifference in her voice’s tone seemed to confirm her statement, but Eric doubted it. A girl like her certainly had a million things to do at the weekend, but giving a helping hand to a superior was no doubt a good idea. It might turn out to be useful.

Jane had an excellent opinion of the way she worked, but not so much about her behaviour. She thought the younger woman to be something of a robot, disinterested in being friends with her colleagues and even considering herself superior to them. A nice gesture might improve this opinion or anyway, in the worst-case scenario, would make her feel a little beholden to Adele. Maybe this might even convince her to give the latter the benefit of the doubt and suspend any kind of judgment for a while.

In the meantime, she’d taken off her lab coat and put on a purple leather jacket. Now she was searching for something in her handbag, whose size could pass for hand baggage. It was evident she was about to leave the department as well. Perhaps he should wait for her, given that they were the last left of their team. But at the same time, he didn’t know whether it was the right thing to do.

‘Well, have a nice weekend,’ he said, but Adele seemed to be ignoring him, as she was pulling out a small foldable umbrella from her handbag. So Eric, against his will, resumed walking.

‘Boss, wait for me,’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m leaving, too.’

As Adele emerged from the laboratory, Eric was paralysed.

She closed the door behind her and started walking, overtaking him. Then she turned back to him with a quizzical look.

Realising that she was waiting for him, Eric followed her.

Adele reached the lift hallway and pressed the button for the lift, whilst he stopped beside her, being careful not to stand too close.

She checked her mobile phone for a moment, snorted, and then put it back in her jacket pocket. ‘Still no car.’ She’d said that, looking distractedly at the lift doors, which opened at that very moment. ‘That damned mechanic had promised it would be ready for this morning, but instead, it seems a part is missing, so perhaps it’ll take another week.’ She stepped into the car, followed by Eric, who really didn’t know what to say. ‘Tomorrow I’m going to have to borrow that old wreck my sister-in-law calls a car. I have to travel halfway across London, on Sunday. What a pain.’ It wasn’t clear whether she was talking to him or just complaining to herself. She seemed intent on listening to the sound of her own voice.

Eric pushed the button for the ground floor and the doors closed. They remained in silence during the short trip of the lift, as Adele zipped up her jacket, adjusted the handbag over her shoulder, and got ready to open her umbrella.

When they reached their destination, she rushed out of the lift without saying a word, heading to the exit at a quick pace. Eric did the same with less conviction. He was watching her as she walked away and was feeling more and more depressed. He’d just been given the opportunity to talk to the only woman who had moved something inside him in the last few years and he’d wasted it, unable to say anything more elaborate than a ‘Yeah’ or a ‘Have a nice weekend’.

‘I’m going to get out at Leicester Square for a quick dinner.’

Astonished, Eric raised his gaze. He’d been convinced she was already out, but she was standing by the door, as if she was waiting for him.

‘Will you keep me company?’ Adele added once he was near. For the first time, she’d looked at him in the face when talking to him. She wasn’t smiling, nor did she seem really sincere in the question she’d made to him. It was as if she’d asked only out of courtesy. The umpteenth favour that might prove useful in the future, just like with Jane.

Yet, even though he knew how things were, Eric felt a rush of adrenaline going through his body and his breath failed him for a moment.

She kept watching him. In a few seconds, her expression turned from cordial to impatient. Perhaps she was already regretting the idea and was tired of waiting for an answer that was late coming. ‘So?’ she pressed him.

Part of him was annoyed by the way she’d addressed him, but at the same time, he was feeling an opportunity slipping away from his hands. ‘Yes, why not?’ He’d tried to say that as naturally as he could, but his voice had come out of his mouth choked with tension.

Adele gave a hint of a smile. ‘Good,’ she declared, walking out of the door. Once she was out, she opened her umbrella. ‘Come, I’ll give you a lift.’ She added to her words a glance to the object over her head.

 

 

By the time they left Leicester Square station, the rain had stopped. During the train ride and the change at Embankment, Adele had remained silent. She’d checked her mobile phone several times, replying to messages with an amused air, and from time to time, giving him fixed smiles.

The more time went by, the more Eric felt disheartened. How could he have designs on that woman, who no doubt was chatting with her boyfriend about the way she ended up nursing her old guv’nor because she felt bad for him? He would’ve loved to leave with an excuse and go home wallowing in self-pity. But he couldn’t.

They started walking across the square and soon found themselves in one of the adjacent streets, packed with people, as usual, on summer Saturday nights. Humans of all ages and nationalities, indifferent to the foul weather, were moving in couples or groups. The females in particular were dressed to impress, wearing thin clothing even though it was barely ten degrees Celsius out, but apparently they didn’t care. Eric looked around, smiling. This sudden shower of joy had cheered him up in a moment. He remembered when he too loved blending in with the crowd, not too many years earlier, together with his wife, and enjoying life.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Adele was scrutinising him.

They reached a pub, where, as soon as they stepped in, a young man greeted her with enthusiasm. She must be a regular, given that in a short time, almost by magic, they managed to get seated at a table. Eric suspected she had skipped ahead of a few bookings thanks to her friendship with one of the managers. Perhaps she came there every Saturday and always found a table waiting for her.

He didn’t know much about her. In fact, he knew nothing. She might as well be co-owner of the pub and the young man worked for her. Maybe he was her cousin. Actually, he hoped so, because given the way they’d greeted they looked quite close, and watching them together had annoyed him.

They ordered a steak and, after the first beer, Eric’s mood improved even further, as Adele seemed to be having fun and more inclined to speak. To tell the truth, they were talking about work; after all, they had no other topics in common, and anyway it was pleasant to do so in an atmosphere other than their cold, antiseptic laboratory.

‘Do you come here often?’ he heard himself ask her.

‘Often enough. It’s a nice place.’ Adele looked around, accompanying her words. ‘The staff are kind, the food is excellent, and the prices are even better.’ And her lips stretched out in an enigmatic smile.

Alcohol had made Eric more self-confident and replied to her smile in a natural fashion, without feeling guilty, for once. He knocked back the last of his second pint and stood up. ‘All this liquid is starting to crank up the pressure.’ It had come out this way, without him thinking about it.

Adele burst out laughing. ‘Go ahead, boss. I won’t hold you back.’

When he came back from the toilet, he saw that his empty glass had been replaced with another full one. They’d finished eating, but apparently not drinking. He had no idea what time it was, and he didn’t care. He wished the night would keep going and going forever.

Adele raised her glass in a theatrical way to propose a toast. ‘To Her Majesty!’ she solemnly exclaimed, then she started laughing.

Eric accepted, and they clinked glasses. ‘God save the Queen!’ Then he gulped down his beer until his breath gave out. Almost immediately, he felt pervaded by a sensation of warmth. It wasn’t the same brand he’d ordered earlier. This one was stronger, but he didn’t mind at all. Adele seemed to be having fun, and that was the only thing that he cared about.

‘Perhaps you don’t know that your colleagues consider you a bit unpleasant.’ He’d really just said that! At this point, his mouth appeared to be completely disconnected from his brain.

She giggled, laying her head on her right hand and running her fingers through her hair. Those of the other hand were circling on the edge of her glass.

Eric didn’t know whether she was amused more by what he’d said or by the way he’d said it. He was aware he was tipsy. No, actually he was drunk. He hadn’t got drunk in years; he would have a raging headache tomorrow and would regret every word. But what the heck! Perhaps he wouldn’t even remember. At any rate, he felt unable to stop himself.

‘I’m serious. Except perhaps for Stern, who dotes on you …’ He wondered why he’d been so fearful of talking to her just a few hours earlier. It was so easy.

‘Oh Lord, that louse!’ Adele commented. She straightened her neck and let her forefinger slip on her lips. ‘He’ll do anything I say. It’s really convenient, you know?’

She definitely was every bit of the bitch they all said she was, yet instead of annoying him, it just made him laugh. For a moment it occurred to him she might be speaking ill of him to others, just as she was now of Stern, but he immediately pushed the thought aside. He didn’t really care. Nothing mattered except the moment.

He tossed the glass off, but as he was laying it on the table, he inexplicably missed the target and it ended up in pieces on the floor, earning him a general cheer from the whole pub.

‘Okay, boss, perhaps we’d better go out for some fresh air.’ Adele stood up and grabbed his arm, so that he could do the same, but when Eric tried to rise, his head started spinning dizzily and he had to lean on the table to keep from falling.

The perception of what was happening around him became less and less clear, whilst she helped him get back on his feet.

 

 

Fresh air, swollen with humidity that promised more rain, seemed to help clear the fog clouding his thoughts.

Adele and the young man from the pub made him sit on a low stone wall. He was watching them chatting in front of him. From time to time, she touched his arm in a friendly manner. ‘Everything okay, boss?’

Eric nodded, trying to smile, but at once he felt a retching and had to bend double to vomit. The others rushed to assist him, preventing his fall. After he evacuated his stomach of what remained of his dinner, his nausea was gone, along with most of his disorientation.

‘Are you sure you don’t need any help?’ the young man asked her. Taking a close look at him, Eric realised he must be in his thirties.

She handed Eric a paper tissue. She kept the other hand on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. ‘Thank you, but from now on I think I can manage by myself.’

‘Okay.’ Her friend stepped forward and gave her a goodbye hug. ‘See you soon then.’

‘Count on it.’

The young man winked at her before taking his leave. Adele replied, waving a hand, then she sat down beside Eric.

He was aware that under normal circumstances he would’ve been ashamed of what had just happened, but he really couldn’t be. Despite everything, he felt pervaded by a sense of wellbeing.

‘Are you feeling better now? I mean, seriously.’ She threw him an inquisitive look, the same he had seen on her many times when she’d been concentrating on her work.

‘Yes, seriously.’ Those words had come out of his mouth clearly, a sign that perhaps the connection between his brain and his vocal chords had been restored. ‘You two seemed really close. Is he your boyfriend?’ Well, maybe the connection worked, but data transmission was still poor.

Adele turned in the direction where her friend had headed. He could almost make out an expression of affection mixed with melancholy on her face. ‘He’s my ex.’

‘Oh …’ Fortunately, nothing inconvenient to say came up in Eric’s mind. ‘An important relationship?’ Ah, never mind.

‘We’re divorced.’

Those last words stunned him for a moment. They had another thing in common, the only one he had noticed so far.

‘So young and already divorced …’ He’d said that with a tone of sincere regret. He knew the long repercussions such event could have on a person’s life. He found himself reminiscing over her behaviour ever since she’d arrived in their department, and he thought he could begin to understand her a little better. The brusque manner she employed with colleagues might have far simpler motives than the thousands of disquieting suppositions that had crossed his mind.

‘I’m old enough to have a failed marriage behind me, yes.’ She turned her attention to him again. She seemed almost annoyed that he’d considered her too young, but her eyes told another story, the tale of a person who was making fun of her elderly boss.

‘But you stayed on good terms,’ Eric commented. ‘I wish it were so with me and my ex.’

‘Actually, we still love each other, but …’

He waited for her to continue, staring at her lips.

Adele hesitated a little longer, as if she were enjoying keeping him in suspense. ‘The problem is that he’s gay!’ And she laughed.

There wasn’t much to laugh about. It must really be a dramatic situation, but perhaps over time she had got over it. Or she was good at hiding her emotions. Even now that they were alone, with Eric’s defences lowered by alcohol, Adele seemed to keep a wall separating her from the rest of the world and preventing anyone from getting too close to her.

She took out her mobile phone for the umpteenth time. As soon as she tapped the screen, it lit up, throwing a cold light on her face. ‘You’re too pissed to take the Tube.’ She typed something. ‘I’m calling a taxi.’

 

 

Ten minutes later, they were sitting in the back seat of a taxi. Eric had leaned his head against the window and slipped into a deep sleep. As the vehicle proceeded quickly along Oxford Street, Adele watched him, uncertain, fearing he could fall any time now.

When the taxi driver turned right into Portman Street, without really slowing down, she reached for Eric and held him upright with both hands. The last thing she needed was for him to knock his head on something. She would have to take him to the A&E and the news about the most famous team chief in Scotland Yard’s Forensic Services ending up drunk in a hospital would make its way around London in the blink of an eye. Quite a blow for his reputation, which Adele certainly didn’t want to be responsible for.

There was a brusque braking. She realised they’d already reached Dorset Street, right in front of the building where she lived. Adele tried to shake Eric gently.

‘Boss, this is my stop. Can you hear me?’

A moan was his reply.

‘I have to get out. We have to tell the driver your address, so that he can get you home,’ she exclaimed, raising her voice.

This time, Eric didn’t even try to react. He’d fallen asleep again.

The taxi driver turned around and opened the little window separating the front from the back of the car. ‘Uh, your friend looks hammered.’ There was a certain amount of commiseration in his eyes. ‘I’m afraid the evening hasn’t gone exactly as expected, has it?’

The man seemed to have developed a clear idea about the two of them. Perhaps he thought they were a typical boss and young employee. He’d invited her out, hoping to take her to bed, and she’d accepted, hoping for a raise or a promotion. But things had got a bit out of hand for him, and his plans would crash and burn, leaving him with a hangover. The driver’s laughter seemed to confirm that theory about his opinion.

‘Listen,’ Adele said, as she turned to face him. ‘I’ll give you twenty quid on top of the fare, if you give me a helping hand to get him inside.’

‘Hmm,’ was what the man let escape from his mouth. Perhaps he was thinking that this request didn’t quite fit with the story he’d imagined. Or maybe he just wanted to bargain over the price.

‘Have you been fined lately by any chance?’ she asked him. Maybe she could find a different way to get help.

‘What do you care?’ the taxi driver replied in an uncivil way.

Adele pulled out the wallet with her Metropolitan Police warrant card from her handbag and showed it to him. And all at once his face turned serious, then melted into a nervous smile. There was no doubt that, if she checked the vehicle’s paperwork, she’d find something out of order. Actually, she wasn’t a traffic officer, but the man didn’t know.

‘Ah!’ he exclaimed. ‘I don’t want a thing, madam, I’m happy to give you a hand.’ It’d sounded almost true, as he’d said it.

 

 

‘Where are we going to put him?’ the taxi driver asked as soon as they were in Adele’s flat. ‘Crikey, nice place you’ve got here!’

Her home may have been small, but it was modern. Even she found herself taking an admiring look at it. The doorway opened directly into the living room, separated from the small kitchen corner only by a low wall, on which was a shelf. The dominating colour was white with grey contours. The walls, furniture, and finish followed that scheme, while the floor was paved with lead-coloured tiles. Two more doors opened in the room, leading to the bedroom and walk-in wardrobe. When she’d bought the flat, the latter was a smaller, second bedroom she had converted. Between these two rooms, and connected to both, was the bathroom.

But Adele had no intention of letting the man explore the rest of her home. ‘On the settee.’

They moved closer to the piece of furniture and laid Eric down; he now looked more passed out than just asleep. She lifted his legs, to be sure he didn’t fall, and put a pillow under his head.

The taxi driver snorted. ‘Bad thing that is, getting hammered like that. It happened to me once, too. I can’t even remember how I made it back home.’ He laughed, making his bulky body vibrate.

Having no desire to enter into a conversation with the man, Adele hurried to put her right hand in her pocket and pull out a twenty-pound note. The other was inside her handbag, brushing her gun. Better safe than sorry. ‘Here, please take this.’ She was holding out the money.

The man looked at her, dithering. ‘No, no.’ He was shaking his hands. ‘No need, madam.’

‘I insist,’ she said. ‘You were really kind to help.’ She added to the last word the most sincere smile she could feign. Best to be courteous to those willing to help you. Her father had told her that so many times.

‘Okay.’ In spite of his evident reluctance, the man took the note. ‘But …’ He pulled a business card out from the back pocket of his trousers and gave it to Adele. ‘If you ever need to book a taxi, call me directly, so that you don’t have to pay the company for the reservation.’

Oh, yes, there was always something to be gained from being courteous.

As soon as the taxi driver left, Adele turned all four locks on her door. She took off her jacket, hung it on a hook inside the walk-in wardrobe, and took out a blanket she kept folded on a shelf.

She went over to Eric, who was still sleeping peacefully on the settee, and covered him with it. Even though it was already the end of June, the evenings were still quite cold. She didn’t want him to catch a cold. Then she took off his shoes, one after the other. Looking at him now, he seemed so fragile. Nowhere even near the image of the powerful, self-confident man he had back at the department. The big boss, Eric Shaw, feared as much by his subordinates as by the criminals.

She laughed under her breath at that thought.

She went to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Then she headed for her bedroom, where she took her time to undress and, yawning, put on a pair of light pyjamas. She was more tired than she’d thought.

A little later, as she was dropping the used chamomile teabag into the rubbish, she noticed a movement in the living room. She tiptoed to the settee and abandoned her teacup on the coffee table for a moment.

Eric had moved, uncovering himself a little, and now part of the blanket had slid down onto the floor.

Adele picked it up and put it on him again. She touched her fingers to his hair, almost as if he were a child. It was thick and soft, a very light brown, a bit tinged with white at the temples. She bent her head and brushed his brow with a kiss.

She sat on the little table, took back her cup, and stayed there, staring at her boss sleeping on her settee. He was handsome. Apart from a little paunch and his tendency to neglect himself, he didn’t look at all like an almost fifty-year-old man. Or perhaps it was she who had a weakness for older men. Actually, no, that wasn’t the reason. She knew he really was too old. He could have been her father.

She took another sip, still staring at him.