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“And you’ve been drinking.”

  “Just a quick one on the way here.”

  “You had time to get drunk, but not time to change? For an important meal like this?”

  “I am not drunk, Pip. I had some matters to discuss with the Guv.”

  “In a bar?”

  Red studied the wine menu, avoiding eye contact. Beneath her breath, “Yes, in an effing bar.”

  “I didn’t realize the local pub had replaced the Station as the place to conduct police business.”

  “This was off the record. About my promotion. To DCI.”

  “Promotion?” Pippa’s tone soothed instantly. “You’re being promoted? DCI! Cassandra, that’s wonderful news!”

  “Don’t count your chickens. It won’t be yet. And I may turn it down.”

  The colour drained from Pippa’s face. “Oh my God, you really are drunk!”

  “I am not drunk. I just wish I was. And right now I need more alcohol, so I can face your self-righteous ex and his silicone sidekick.”

  “Really Cassandra, there’s no need to swear. Least of all here. Thomas and Raymond will be most offended.”

  “They’re not listening, and there’s every need to swear. This was meant to be me and you, in case you forgot. To help me mourn my father.”

  “It was you who said you didn’t want that.”

  “I didn’t say invite that twat Richard instead.”

  “Richard is not a… Well, maybe he can be at times. But I want you on your best behaviour tonight.”

  “If he starts anything…”

  “Don’t be so dramatic. Richard will be fine.” Pippa paused, taking Red’s hand. “You know how much we need to do this, Cass. Please. I have to keep him sweet. He thinks Jack’s missing out not having a male role model around.” Pippa’s hazel eyes glistened with tears, imploring patience.

  “Male role model? What, like Rooney? Or Tyson?”

  “Please, Cass. Don’t start - Oh, here they are.” Pippa waved across the room. From the side of her mouth, “Now behave. Or else.” To the new arrivals, “Lucy, Richard, it’s so lovely to see you.”

  Chapter 14.

  “Pip, do you have to analyze every single sweet available?”

  “I am merely deliberating between the poached pears and blueberry cheesecake. It’s no easy decision. What is your problem tonight?”

  Red forced the words from the side of her mouth, her eyes watching Richard and Lucy exchanging sweet nothings across the table. “My problem is sitting right there. All he’s done all night is knock back the most expensive wine he could find, talk about his practice, his golf club and how much he paid for his watch. What on earth did you ever see in him?”

  Pippa sighed wearily, raising her menu. “Membership of a good golf club to a man is like a fine pair of shoes to a woman. You know that.”

  “None of my male friends play golf.”

  Pippa smiled sweetly. “That reflects the circles you choose to move in, Cassandra. Now, please… Just another half an hour. We need to talk about Jack.”

  “Thirty minutes. Not a second longer.” Red looked up. Out loud, “So, what’s it to be then, lover?”

  Pippa smiled gratefully, closing her menu. “I’ll have whatever everyone else is having.”

  “Don’t forget we’re having pizza tomorrow.”

  “Pizza?” Richard broke off from the private conversation with his partner. “You’re having pizza?”

  Pippa squirmed uncomfortably. She signalled a waiter, nudging Red’s leg with her foot.

  “Take-away,” Red confirmed, savouring Richard’s appalled expression. “Jack’s having a friend round for tea tomorrow. Has he mentioned Darren at all?”

  “Darren?” Richard wrinkled his features to the best of his ability.

  “Of course, Jack’s made quite a few friends at his new school.” Pippa piped up. “And he’s settling in really well, but they all live so far away. So Cass invited this Darren boy round for tea tomorrow.”

  “I didn’t think they’d let boys called Darren into Mander Portman?”

  Pippa found sudden interest in the menu again.

  “It’ll be good for Jack,” Red countered. “To see how the other half live. You can ask Jack about him this weekend.”

  “This weekend.” Richard cast a glance at Lucy. “I thought it was my turn next week.”

  “Oh, Richard. Please don’t say you’ve forgotten. Again. Cass and I have made arrangements.”

  Richard sheepishly swilled the wine in his glass. “Of course I’ve not forgotten. I just fear I may have double-booked.”

  Red cast an angry glare at Richard and Lucy. “Double-booked? It’s every other Sunday, for God’s sake.”

  Richard shifted uncomfortably in his seat, ignoring Red. “I’m sorry. Philippa, do you think we could perhaps…”

  “No!” Red hit the table with a heavy fist. “Bollocks to this. You messed up. You change your precious schedule. Pip and I are having a quiet day in.”

  “Cassandra, please don’t raise your voice.” Pippa cast an anxious glance around the restaurant, embarrassed to see a few heads turning her way. She forced a smile, a hand sliding beneath the table to give Red’s thigh a reassuring tap. “I’m sure it was a simple oversight on Richard’s part.”

  Lucy emitted an embarrassed giggle. “My fault actually. Sorry. I just didn’t think.”

  Red nodded. “Now that I can believe.”

  “And as you say, Cassandra,” Pippa continued, “it’s not as if we had something special planned. Just a quite day in. How about the following Sunday, Richard?”

  Red scowled. “That’s our weekend with the kids, Pip. I get few enough of them off. Don’t even think about it. Besides, I’ve already promised Ella we’d go shopping.”

  Richard glared back at Red, unable to muster a valid argument. “So back to schedule the weekend after that then? I’ll take them somewhere special to make amends.”

  “Ruby might fall for that,” Red spat. “Jack and Ella are old enough to know you’ve let them down. Again.”

  “That’s enough, Cass.” Pippa splayed palms between Red and Richard. “Can we please change the subject? If everyone’s finished, I’ll have the account prepared.”

  Here were no dissenters. An uneasy silence ensued.

  “So, Cassandra,” Lucy ventured at last. “Your job sounds very exciting. But all those accidents and murders… Doesn’t it bother you?” She shuddered. “The blood and dead bodies, I mean?”

  Red coughed, darting a venomous glance at Pippa. “All part of the job. But the uniform guys deal with accidents, not CID.” What the hell. Make the effort. Lucy’s harmless enough. At least she’s trying to be friendly. “Anyway, I thought you’d be pretty used to the sight of blood yourself.”

  “Lucy neither attends the operations nor oversees the patients.” Richard avoided Red’s eyes as he spoke. “She has her work cut out just answering the phone and booking the appointments.” He cut Lucy a scathing glance. “And managing my personal diary.”

  “It’s a lot of work,” Lucy stated earnestly. “If it wasn’t for me Ricky might give someone a boob job when they’re in for a nose job.” Lucy’s blonde hair fell about her as she laughed at her own joke.

  Red’s eyes glazed, wondering just how much of those enormous, jiggling breasts were real.

  As if reading Red’s thoughts, Lucy thrust her chest forward. “Ricky’s had me flat out on the table a good few times over the past two years.”

  Pippa spluttered her Pinot Noir back into the glass, forcing a faux smile. She shrank back in her chair, desperate to change the subject as she saw Thomas Patterson touring the tables ascertaining his patrons’ satisfaction. “Ella tells me that you do yoga, Lucy?”

  “Oh yes, three times a week,” Lucy squealed. “It’s very good for my flexibility. Isn’t that right, Ricky? He says it’ll prevent the need for tucks later. It’s amazing how wide I can spread my legs now.”

  Red put up a palm. “Whoa! Too mu
ch information!”

  Lucy stared at Red, mystified, then burst into a fit of giggles as realization dawned. She grabbed Richard’s arm. “Oh, Ricky, did you hear what I just said?”

  Pippa disappeared behind a menu.

  “And what about you, Cassandra?” Richard asked, desperate to move on. “Have you ever considered surgery?”

  Red smiled sweetly. “Not on my DI’s salary, Doc.” She reached across, running a finger over the back of her partner’s hand. “Anyway, Pippa likes my assets just fine as they are, don’t you, darling?”

  Pippa cleared her throat, relieved to see Thomas heading away. “Cass is up for promotion, Richard. To DCI.” Pippa’s eyes willed Red to behave.

  Richard attempted unsuccessfully to raise his perfect eyebrows. “That’s what’s wrong with the police these days,” he said. He reached into his Versace jacket to retrieve a platinum American Express card, placing it on silver dish the waiter had slipped onto the table. “It’s all about political correctness and pleasing the minority.”

  Red straightened in her seat, setting her wine glass down. “Meaning?”

  Richard handed the bill plate to the hovering waiter, then stared directly at Red. “Let’s face it, Cassandra, you’d never have gotten where you are now if you weren’t a wife-stealing homo.”

  Chapter 15.

  “Oops.” Red’s foot slipped off the icy marble step as she pushed open the front door of their Onslow Square town house, her key still in the lock.

  Pippa closed a hand over Red’s. “Here, you drunken hussy, let me help you.” She twisted the keys, their combined weight propelling them through, stumbling and giggling into the ample hallway.

  “Shhh, you’ll wake the kids,” Red slurred, an index finger awkwardly to her lips.

  “They’re at their grandmother’s, remember?”

  Red pushed the door shut with her backside, a lopsided grin spreading across her face. “So we have the house to ourselves then?”

  “And I intend to make full use of it.” Pippa threw the keys into a dish on the side cabinet, unbuttoning her coat, a mischievous smile dancing on her lips. Her coat fell from her shoulders to the floor.

  Red watched as Pippa started on the blouse. “Anything special in mind?”

  “Well,” Pippa kissed Red suggestively on the lips, “having found you guilty of appalling behaviour tonight, I think a restraining order is required.”

  The smile spread across Red’s face, realization dawning on her features. She reached for her regulation-issue handcuffs, dangling them before her lover’s face. “So which one are you gonna be? Good cop or bad cop?”

  Chapter 16.

  The Huntsman cocked the hammer, watching in macabre amusement at Mickey’s bulging eyes, at hands straining against the cuffs.

  Beads of sweat glistened on Mickey’s shiny, bald head, a vein pulsing in his temple, his face growing more purple by the second.

  “Now, I’ll ask you again, fat shit, where’s the rest?”

  Mickey shook his head violently, showering The Huntsman with droplets of sweat. “I haven’t got it.”

  The Huntsman lifted Mickey’s chin with the barrel of the revolver. “I know you haven’t got it, Mickey. That’s why you’re sat there and I’m stood here.”

  “It was all there, honestly. I gave you everything there was.”

  “It’s light, Mickey. I mean, five grand light.”

  “Someone must’ve...”

  The Huntsman swiped the butt of the gun across Mickey’s cheek, opening up a large tear in the flesh. Blood ran down onto his sweat-drenched shirt.

  “Someone must have what, Mickey boy?”

  “I counted it myself. Farmer was there. And the kid. You can ask them.”

  “I intend to. Don’t worry about that.”

  The Huntsman dropped to his knees, holding onto the arms of the chair. He looked up into Mickey’s terrified features.

  “But you see, you’ve given me a problem, Mickey. The kid got picked up. Not that I think he took it, mind, but he’s not around to ask. Which just leaves you and Farmer. But if I ask Farmer we both know he’ll say it was you.”

  “I didn’t.” Mickey’s bottom lip quivered. “I swear.”

  “My problem is, if I go back empty-handed Queenie’s not going to be too happy. We wouldn’t want that, would we?” The Huntsman chewed the inside of his cheek, his brow furrowing with concentration. “Last chance, Mickey.”

  “Please. There must have been a mistake.”

  “Oh, there’s been a mistake all right.” The Huntsman stood upright. “A huge mistake.” He moved the barrel up and thrust it into Mickey’s mouth. “Last chance, Mickey.”

  “It must’ve been Farmer or the kid.” Mickey forced the words out around the barrel of the gun. “Maybe they came back after we’d counted it.”

  “Nice try, Mickey, but I’ve got my reputation to think of. I have to take back a scalp to prove I’ve done my job.”

  Mickey watched the Huntsman, bewilderment and fear vying for dominance. “Scalp?”

  The Huntsman clicked his tongue in disapproval, and pulled the trigger. He watched as Mickey’s brains dripped gratifyingly slowly from the wall, like melting mozzarella cheese.

  Slipping a plastic bag over his hand, he picked a fragment of hair and bone from the floor, wrapping it tight for freshness.

  Chapter 17.

  Pippa swayed alluringly across the kitchen at an intentional, agonizingly slow pace.

  Red shifted in her seat, her wrists chafed by the cuffs binding her hands to the chair. She allowed her eyes to roam the full length of her partner’s body, devouring every minute detail; savouring the way Pippa’s breasts rose and fell as her breathing increased; captivated by the effect her subservience was having on her lover.

  Pippa could not keep the smile from her lips as she straddled Red’s legs. “Now, Detective Inspector. Or should that be Detective Chief Inspector?” She made an imaginary gun of two fingers and a thumb, tracing them down Red’s temple, down her face and onto her collar. She cocked her head to one side. “So, are you ready to confess? Or do we have to do this the hard way?”

  Red smiled. “Go to hell, Counsel.”

  Pippa bent to kiss Red’s neck, nibbling not-so-gently at her ear. “Oh, but if I do future detective chief inspector, I’m taking you with me.”

  Pippa’s warm tongue traced Red’s neck, insistent fingers prizing open the buttons of Red’s blouse. Red leaned her head back over the chair, allowing Pippa to kiss her way slowly down the exposed torso.

  “I’ve been a very naughty girl, Your Honour,” Red conceded quietly, droplets of sweat running down between her breasts, the cotton blouse clinging to her. “I deserve to be severely punished.”

  Pippa tugged at Red’s jeans, sliding them down over her lover’s ankles, throwing them aside. Pippa traced kisses back up from ankle to thigh before standing to remove Red’s panties, flinging them across the room.

  Red watched intently as Pippa dropped to her knees, holding onto the arms of the kitchen chair.

  Pippa smiled as she went in for the kill.

  Chapter 18.

  “More coffee, Guv?” Anna Hargreaves rose from her seat, anticipating the answer. “You look like you’ve been at it all night.”

  Red nodded gratefully, a wry smile playing on her lips. “Something like that.” She tried to ignore the throbbing drums in her head, turning back to the team. “So, where have we got to this morning?” She looked around the room. “Barry?”

  “Jez and I never stopped all evening.” Barry Taylor managed a toothy grin. “Not unlike yourself, by the looks of it.”

  There was a ripple of laughter across the office.

  Red adopted a solemn tone. “Thank you, Barry, but I’m not in the mood right now.”

  Taylor mocked a salute. “Sorry, ma’am. Won’t do it again, ma’am.”

  Harris beamed at his partner’s cheek.

  Red forced a condescending smile. “Glad to see
you find it so amusing, Jez. In case you’ve forgotten, there’s a very old lady in hospital.”

  The smile faded from Harris’s face. “Yes, ma’am.” His eyes lit up again. “I was just telling Baz about that old biddy we interviewed, ma’am. You know, the cat’s piss, the binoculars and the flasher?”

  Red heaved a sigh. “Thank you, Jez. Please don’t call me ma’am, and kindly refer to witnesses by their name in future. Have you viewed the disk yet?”

  “My next job, ma’am. I mean, Guv. The media suite was in use when I got back yesterday.”

  “Let me have a full report before noon. Then you’ll need to go back and get a signed statement.”

  “Back to the cat’s piss?”

  “Take Barry with you too.”

  Taylor put up a palm in protest. “I’m fine, Guv.”

  “Barry, you’re going with Jez. End of. And if you’re really lucky, Mrs. Ellis might offer you a cup of tea.”

  Taylor snorted. “Sod that, Guv. From what Jezza tells me it’s gonna be straight in and out. I don’t do old people.”

  “You’ll be an old git one day, Barry.” Anna passed a steaming coffee to Red.

  “Thanks, Anna.” To the team, “Baz is already half-way there. Just the old to come.”

  A rumble of table-thumping and exaggerated laughter came from James Mackenzie. “One all. Your turn, Baz.”

  Red acknowledged the joke with a disdainful glance. “Don’t encourage him, Mac, for God’s sake. Now, on the subject of old people, what’s the latest from the hospital?”

  There was a collective shrugging of shoulders.

  Red rephrased the question. “Okay, who saw her last?”

  More shrugs. Red turned to her DS. “Anna?”

  “When I spoke to the ward yesterday she was still unconscious. It’s on my list to call again this morning.”

  “But has anyone been to see her?”

  “Not much point, Guv,” Taylor piped up. “She can’t tell us much while she’s out cold, can she?”