Chapter 17

Tim and Derry emerged from the cool of the building into the warm evening air. There was a festive feel to the city as people finishing the working day dawdled and chatted.

“Only 6.50,” said Derry, consulting his watch. “We’ve got time for a swift drink if we step on it.”

“Where’re we going?”

“To the Tube. St James’s Park. We want to be in Tottenham Court Road, so there’s a change at Embankment, but with a bit of luck we won’t get held up.”

“Why did you choose that part of town? Because it’s cheaper than round here?” Tim smiled. He was feeling quite a lot better and had decided not to let Derry get the upper hand for once. Derry gave him a straight look.

“Not at all. It’s because Patti’s staying in a hotel nearby. St Giles. I thought it’d be better for her not to have to traipse around too much, as she doesn’t know London well. And it’ll be easy for you to get back to Waterloo afterwards.”

“Thanks,” said Tim dubiously. “Where’s the restaurant?”

“In Charlotte Street. A French place I found some time ago. And, for your information, not at all cheap.”

“I’m happy to pay my share . . .”

“Nonsense. It was my idea, so my shout.”

Tim decided to say nothing but to play it by ear. It would be out of the question to charge a meal for three people in a fancy restaurant as subsistence (he winced inwardly as he imagined Thornton’s enraged expression) and money had been tighter since Katrin took maternity leave. But it was equally unconscionable to allow Derry to foot a very large bill on his own.

They reached Tottenham Court Road quickly. It was still only 7.15 p.m..

“St Giles is at this end, isn’t it? Are you planning to pick Patti up on the way?”

“No. She said she’d be out somewhere this afternoon: she’s coming straight from wherever.”

“We could have headed for Goodge Street, then. It would have been nearer.”

“As I said, we’ll have a swift drink along the way. There’s a pub just by the station that serves drinks outside. It need only take a few minutes.”

Again Tim felt dubious. He didn’t really want a drink and he thought it would take them at least fifteen minutes to walk most of the length of Tottenham Court Road. Wearily, he followed Derry up the station steps.

The pub was only a few yards away. Inside, it was crowded and very noisy, but Derry was right: there were a few tables outside, one of them just being vacated as they arrived.

“Grab that,” said Derry. “I’ll get them in. What’ll you have?”

“A glass of red wine, thanks. A small one.”

“Bit of a girl’s drink, that. What about a real ale? Sussex Mild?”

“Whatever you like. I’ll leave it to you.” Tim was too tired to argue. He sank down on one of the wrought iron chairs and rested his arms on the cockly table, drawing a rivulet of spilt beer towards him. He moved hastily and tried to shift the table to a more stable position.

Derry returned quickly, bearing two foaming pint glasses. He had started draining one before he handed the other to Tim.

“Just what I need,” he said with satisfaction. “It’s been a tough day.”

“It certainly has,” said Tim.

“Cheers, anyway,” said Derry, raising his glass. “And now we’re here, old son, there’s a little favour I’d like to ask of you.”

“Oh?”

“There’s no need to look like that. You know what we were talking about earlier?”

“We talked about quite a lot. Which specific thing did you have in mind?”

“The conversation about Patti. As I said, I’d like to have another go. You’d help me out if you left a bit early, so I can walk her home on my own. Should fit in with your plans, from what you’ve been saying.”

“But what if Patti..?”

“That’s up to her, isn’t it? She’s a big girl. I’m sure she knows how to say no. Besides, you’ve given up any rights you might ever have had to look out for her.”

“Don’t keep going on about it. Yes, all right, then, as long as she doesn’t seem upset when I start talking.”

“Cheers,” said Derry again, giving Tim’s arm a punch. “Drink up, now, we’re going to be late.”

Tim downed about half of the beer and immediately began to feel nauseous.

“Let’s just go, shall we? I can’t drink this in a hurry on an empty stomach.”

“As you wish. Waste of a good ale, but we’re late already. Better get a cab.”

Derry whirled into the road, his arm outstretched. A black cab stopped almost immediately. The driver didn’t complain when he was asked to turn round and head back the way he’d come.

The traffic was heavy. It was 7.45 p.m. when they reached the restaurant in Charlotte Street. Tim tried to pay the driver, but Derry insisted that he would do it, so it was Tim who entered the restaurant first. It was dark inside, the gloom accentuated by oak-panelled walls. Patti must have seen him first, because by the time his eyes were accustomed to the change in light she was already staring at him, her face a picture of astonishment not exactly tempered with pleasure.

She had been seated at a square table near the back of the room, but stood as soon as she saw him. He noticed that she was wearing a pale dress of some floaty material: an unusual garb for the Patti he knew, who spent most of her life in trousers. She extended her hand.

“DI Yates,” she said archly. “When DI Hacker said he’d like me to meet a colleague, I had no idea it would be you.” She glanced over Tim’s shoulder. “Rather disingenuous of you, really. You gave me to understand that it was someone I hadn’t met before.” The last sentence was addressed to Derry, who had just appeared behind Tim.

“I thought you’d be pleased!” Derry cackled brazenly. “Anyway, we’re all here now, and we’re going to have a bloody good evening. I’ll see to that.”

“Will you?” said Patti coolly. But Tim could see she was amused. She dropped the subject.

“Sorry we kept you waiting,” Derry continued. “I hope you’ve ordered a drink?”

“I’ve asked for a big bottle of water. I thought we’d all want some of it.”

“Possibly. But I meant a proper drink. What will it be? A gin and tonic?”