Saffina Desforges' ROSE RED Crime Thriller Boxed Set

by Saffina Desforges

  Pippa stared in astonishment at her youngest daughter. "Since when did you become interested in astrology, young lady?"

  Jack let out aloud sigh. "It's astronomy, Mum. Astrology is horoscopes and stuff."

  "You're going to meet a short, fat, white-haired man in a red suit bearing gifts, Rubes," Red said as she emerged from the hallway, toothbrush in one hand, blackberry in the other. "And you, Pip, are going to have a day of unexpected surprises in the company of Jack and Darren."

  "Don't remind me," Pippa said, gently pulling Ruby back to the table. "Mind you, Mother will have her hands full with Miss Patrick Moore here, looking for stars with tails. No doubt she'll be asking Father Christmas for a microscope in her stocking."

  "Telescope, Mum," Jack groaned.

  Pippa waved a dismissive hand. "Same thing."

  Red pecked a kiss on Pippa's cheek. "I don't think so, Counsellor. There wouldn't be much forensic evidence if SOCO used were using a telescope. Not unless it was a crime committed on Mars. Anyway, gotta go. Some people have to work for a living, unlike you part-time lawyers. See ya later, kids!"

  "Kids are baby goats, Cassandra," Pippa protested to the closing door. "Though in the case of Jack and Darren I may just have to make an exception."

  Chapter 3.

  “Pucker up, Guv.” The shadow of Barry Taylor loomed over Red’s desk like Godzilla over a New York skyscraper, as the DCI unenthusiastically sorted paper into small mountains on the makeshift desk. What away to spend Christmas Eve morning. Luckily it was a half-shift.

  “Sorry?”

  “It’s only right, being Christmas an’ all.”

  “What’s only right, Barry?" Red didn't look up. Too soon after breakfast for a close up of Taylor's ugly mug. "Can’t you see that I am attempting to catch up here?”

  “Sorry, Guv,” Jez Harris chimed in. “But I think Bazza has you banged to rights.”

  Red dragged her eyes up to the two DCs, grinning inanely. Abbot and Costello had nothing on these two.

  “Mistletoe.” Taylor jabbed a pudgy finger in the direction of a dusty sprig of green plastic hanging from the coat stand. “You’ve got to oblige. It’s the law.”

  "You wouldn't want to go breaking the law, now, Guv, would you," Harris added.

  Red sighed. She could see a smiling Terri Miller and Anne Hargreaves watching with interest. Or perhaps it was pity. She took a deep breath. It's only once a year...

  “Alright, Barry. If you insist.” Red positioned herself toe to toe with Taylor. Placing a hand on either side of his moon face, she pushed his cheeks together. Planted a kiss directly onto his lips. Held him there as he struggled. Lips locked together as he flapped his arms out at his sides like a clown on a unicycle.

  Whistles and jeers filled the briefing room. Harris clapped Taylor on the back as Taylor's face went from pink to crimson, then purple.

  “Steady on, Guv," Anna Hargreaves beamed from the sidelines. "You’ll finish him off.”

  Red finally let Taylor go. Wiped a hand across her lips. She nodded appreciatively. “Not bad. For a bloke.”

  “Jesus!” Taylor bent double, hands on his knees. Gulped in a huge lungful of air.

  A smattering of applause broke out. Red bowed. “Thank you everybody. I’m here all week, and available for private bookings for a very reasonable fee.” She turned to Harris. “Your turn next. then, Jez?”

  “Er, I’ve got a report to finish up, Guv.” Harris ducked away.

  Red cast a fleeting glance at Terri Miller. Now that would be a treat. A flashback of Terri bending over drying her hair that morning at the apartment. Cracked walnuts sprang to mind. She chased the image from her thoughts.

  “Right, if we’ve finished with the festivities, how about someone gives me a round-up of where we are with the cases Jim handed over, before I head off?”

  “Not much doing to be honest," Anna said. "Just a few drunken brawls to clear up and a couple of shoplifting incidents. The usual seasonal stuff.”

  “You going somewhere, Guv? You just said you was here all week.” Taylor's colour was slowly returning to normal.

  “Yes, Barry, it was a figure of speech. I’m out of here at lunch time. Christmas shopping at Harvey-Will’s new toy department.”

  “But you’re off Christmas, and New Year too?”

  “Again, Taylor, affirmative and very perceptive.” Red clapped him on the back. “You should be a detective? This is the last you'll see of me until the New Year. So, anyone got anything else for me that can’t wait until January?”

  “I’ve taken over the Lewis case whilst Mac is on bereavement, Guv.” Terri Miller sauntered across. “Gonna mull it over while you lot are celebrating this Boxing Day thing. I can never get my head round that. Christmas is a one day holiday back home. I'd be bored to tears if it wasn't for this OT.”

  Harris's eyes lit up. "On your own for Christmas, Terri?"

  "Don't even think about it, Jez," Terri warned. "You've had me in bed the once. There won't be a second time."

  Harris seemed undeterred. He flicked his eyes at a threadbare gold and red Merry Christmas banner slung across the light fittings. The spines stuck out at odd angles, mistletoe clinging to it for dear life. “How about it, Tex? I’m sure they have this kind of thing back in the States. I’ve seen it on Grey’s Anatomy.”

  Terri leaned closer to him. She straightened his tie lovingly. “Oh they do, Jez,” she whispered with a seductive pout. She patted his tie to his chest. “They definitely do. Shall I tell you what else they do on Grey’s?”

  Harris bobbed his head up and down.

  “Vasectomies.”

  The smile fell from Harris’s face like a curtain dropping at the end of a play. He coughed into his hand. “Better be getting on with that report.”

  Chapter 4.

  “Don’t run, Jack!” Pippa grabbed a handful of air as her son's coat hood flew past. "You'll get lost."

  “Chill, Mum!” Jack tapped his friend on the arm. “Tag! Race you to HMV. Last one there buys the milkshakes at Maccies!”

  “Darren! That means you too! I—” Pippa’s protests were drowned out by a blast of Noddy Holder and Slade from a nearby street stall.

  “Oh, leave them be, darling.” Cynthia Crichton nudged her daughter's arm. “They’re not going to get lost. They’re just boys having fun.”

  “That’s all very well for you to say, Mother. You’re not the one stuck with them all day.” Pippa scrolled through the messages on her phone as they battled their way through the procession of last-minute Christmas shoppers. “How is it you always get the thick end of the wedge in these situations?”

  Cynthia pulled her granddaughter closer as they muscled through the crowd. “As I recall, Philippa dearest, I suggested that you might like to escort Ruby on her visit to see Santa, but you pooh-poohed the idea without so much as a second thought.”

  “Yes, well that was before I knew what Option B was.” Pippa turned to Cynthia with a further thought. "And Mother, please do not use vulgar lavatorial terms in front of Ruby."

  "Philippa, pooh-poohed is not a lavatorial term. It's—“

  “Mummy," Ruby tugged at the hem of Pippa’s coat as they stopped outside Fortnum & Mason’s. "Isn’t Jack and Darren coming with me to see Father Christmas?”

  “Hmm?” Pippa’s attention was focussed on the huge Christmas hamper spilling its wares out onto a fake snow display in the window. “Oh, look at that! I simply have to have one of those Christmas puddings!” Pippa pressed a finger to the glass, her eyes shining.

  “Honestly, Philippa. Ruby is asking you something. Stop gawping at that ridiculously expensive hamper and answer the poor child."

  Pippa scanned the display as if there might be a second hamper she had somehow missed. “It seems very reasonably priced to me, Mother."

  "Philippa, that one Christmas pudding alone costs more than a month's salary for someone on the minimum wage."

  Pippa sniffed dismissively. "Quality has a price. I b
elieve it was you, Mother, that instilled that lesson in me."

  "No, dear," Cynthia protested. "Quality is the difference between a no-frills ninety-nine pence economy dessert from Tesco and a premium Christmas pudding from M&S. Paying that sort of money for a Christmas pudding is making a social statement, not buying a meal."

  Pippa let go a deep sigh. "You sound more like Cassandra by the day, Mother." Pippa turned to her daughter. "Sorry, you were saying, Ruby, sweetheart?”

  “Ruby asked why Jack and Darren are not coming to see Santa with her. Do keep up, dear.”

  Pippa scooped Ruby into her arms. “Sorry, darling. I was..." Pippa’s eyes chased down the street to where her son had Darren in a wrestling hold and was attempting to push his friend's head into a litter bin. The urge to shout out was tempered by the satisfaction that it was Darren's head in the bin. Boys will be boys.

  “Well, sweetheart, Jack is a little too old for sitting on Father Christmas’s knee, do you not think?” Pippa pulled Ruby’s pink ear-muffs further over her ears. “So I'm taking Jack and Darren to some computer games store or other, while Grandma takes you to tell Father Christmas what special present you would like. Then we’ll all meet up with Ella and her friends later, at that dreadful Trocadero place.”

  Pippa's eyes drifted back to the window display. “Why don't you and Grandma go on, in case there's a queue. I'll catch up with Jack and Darren in a few minutes. There's something I need to do first.”

  Chapter 5

  “Is that the Super whistling?” Red covered her mouth with one hand, watching the approach of Superintendent Blake through the glass partition. “Wonders will never cease!”

  “Well, 'tis the season to be jolly,” Terri Miller said. “Tra-la-la-la-lah.”

  “La-la-la-lah!” Anna finished. "Except the terms jolly and the Super don't really go together. Not at any time of year."

  “Good morning, officers." Blake appeared in the doorway with a beaming smile. "And a merry Christmas to you all."

  A rumble of "Good morning, Sir" and "Merry Christmas to you too, Sir" sprang from the astonished team.

  “Someone’s looking very festive, Sir.” Red nodded at the sprig of holly stuck in the Super's button-hole.

  “Ah. Margaret's idea of a joke. She threatened me with no Christmas dinner unless I wore it all day.”

  “It suits you, Sir,” Anna said “You should wear it more often.”

  Blake hovered in the doorway. like a vampire awaiting an invitation to cross the intended victim's threshold. He considered the proposition. “Possibly a tad too festive for the summer don’t you think? Anyway, I just thought I’d pop in and wish you all the best for the season, and to say I'll be at the Union this evening for an hour. with Margaret, and the first round's on us."

  "Count me in, Sir," Taylor smarmed . "I wouldn't want to miss meeting the lovely Margaret again."

  "Not when there's a free pint on offer, anyway," Anna said.

  Taylor forced a smile. "You'll have to excuse Sergeant Hargreaves, Sir. She's still miffed about drawing the short straw for Christmas duty."

  "Ah, yes, thanks for reminding me, Barry. Anna, I just want you and Terri to know the Chief Super appreciates you standing in for James Mackenzie at such short notice."

  "The least we could do, Sir. Both Terri and I were happy to volunteer. Bad enough to be burying your mother two days before Christmas, without having to worry about shifts."

  "Of course, Sir, Jez and me would've put our names forward had we been given the chance," Taylor piped up. "But by the time we got the news it was all done and dusted."

  "That's right, Sir," Harris agreed wholeheartedly. "Baz and me were both dreading being sat at home in front of the TV. But obviously it's too late to change things now."

  Taylor was nodding agreement like his life depended on it. "But any other time, Sir, Jez and I will be first in line. Just say the word."

  Superintendent Blake came into the room, the smile widening. Red smirked, realising what was coming.

  Taylor and Harris shrank back in their seats as they realised the focus of attention was on them.

  "Thanks, both of you," Blake began. "Cass—that is, Chief Inspector Rose, has told me on many occasions what a great team she has and how you all pull together. But to see it in action like this..."

  "Sir?" Taylor ventured, dreading the answer.

  "James Mackenzie just called me, to say he'd like to extend his leave and stay over until the New Year. Obviously it's a rare family reunion for him, even if in tragic circumstances, and travel to and from the Scottish isles is not easy."

  "The New Year, Sir?" Harris squeaked.

  "Precisely," Blake said. "And what better place to sing Auld Lang Syne than in its spiritual home? James said he would make the trip early if there was no-one available to cover for him. And obviously DCI Rose is on annual leave with her family. So what with Anna and Terri covering Christmas it was really down to whether you two would be available."

  "And you volunteered before the Super could even ask," Red jumped in. "Thanks, boys." To the Super, "You can see why I'm so proud of my team, Sir."

  Taylor and Harris smiled through gritted teeth. "Our pleasure, Sir."

  Chapter 6

  “A cod is a fish, Jack," Pippa stated firmly.

  Darren smirked at Jack. “Not very dope, your old girl, is she?”

  “I beg your pardon, Darren? Not very what?”

  Darren’s blank stare was enough to raise a half-smile from Pippa. “Never mind. It's probably better I don't know.” To Jack, "Since when did you develop an interest in fishing, anyway?"

  “Not cod, Mum. C.O.D. Call of Duty. Number four.” Jack waved the empty box at Pippa. “Dad said to get it so he can give it to me for Christmas, and he’d give you the money back when he sees you next.”

  I'm not sure your father grasps the idea of Christmas presents being a surprise, Jack. And does your father realise this is not the innocent game about trawling the ocean depths that the title implies?"

  Darren flicked razor-hacked eyebrows at Jack, twirling an index finger in a spiral motion at his temple. “Fruit loop.”

  “So, can I have it?” Jack persisted.

  "I remember when computer games were about shooting little green men from Mars, not simulated slaughter on the battlefield."

  Darren stared at Pippa in disbelief. "What, Space Invaders, you mean?"

  Pippa shrugged. "Something like that, yes."

  Darren's mouth dropped open. "Blimey, Mrs. CW, you really are as old as you look."

  Pippa put her barristerial skills to good use and maintained an expression of perfect indifference as she imagined ramming the COD box into Darren's mouth. She plucked Warriors of Rock from the shelf. “Ah, Cassandra said something about this, I'm sure." She examined the small print with a lawyer's keen eye for detail. "It says here that this is part of a Band Bundle. What do you suppose that means?”

  “That one’s easy Mrs. CW.” Darren pointed at the drum kit and microphone display. “See there. You can get the whole set-up: Guitars, mike, everything. Uncle Phil got Chardonnay it last Christmas. We rocked out all day long. It’s well cool!”

  Pippa studied the boy. “I am not one hundred percent certain what you just said, Darren, but I am presuming that it means the game in question meets with your approval?”

  “You’re not thinking of buying it are you, Mum?” A look of horror spread over Jack’s face.

  “Well, I’ve only got Cass one present so far. It's not something I would normally buy for anyone, but I'm struggling to decide what else she might like.”

  “No! No way!” Jack snatched the box from Pippa’s grasp, wide-eyed. “You can’t!”

  “Why ever not?” Pippa swiped the game back again, savouring her son’s discomfort. “Oh look, Bohemian Rhapsody,” she read aloud, “one of Cassandra’s favourites.”

  Pippa glanced left and right down the games aisle before proceeding to nod her head vehemently. She smiled at Darren.
“See, Dude? Head-banging. How’s that for dope?”

  Jack’s eyes grew wider still. Colour rose in his face like someone had thrown paint over him.

  Darren nudged Jack with an elbow. “Jack, your family is well weird!”

  Chapter 7.

  Red forced a smile through gritted teeth, bumping shoulders like a quarter-back as she fought her way through the sea of bodies teeming through Harvey-Williams.

  Predictably dull Christmas music droned in her ears as she dodged displays sporting giant snowmen and precariously balanced reindeer whose legs appeared to have grown at different angles.

  Nice going, Red! What was she thinking of, agreeing to meet Cynthia and Ruby on the busiest day of the year in the newly opened toy department of one of London's biggest stores? She tried to keep her temper in check as shoppers stopped dead or walk like drunken crabs in front of her, following the huge pointing fingers announcing Santa's Grotto, this way, almost falling onto the moving staircase that would transport her to the temporary home of the fake Father Christmas.

  Red found her eyes being drawn back down the escalator opposite, where tearful children were being consoled by bewildered parents. Maybe the queue to sit on Santa’s knee was just too daunting? Or the presents he was giving out weren’t up to scratch?

  At the top of the escalator Red was thrown into a wailing wall of distressed children and scarlet-faced parents.

  “You promised!” A whining boy with a shock of copper hair and an unnatural amount of green snot for a moustache hopped from one foot to the other, squinting up at his embarrassed mother.

  “I know I did, darling, but Santa had to go somewhere. Maybe Rudolf isn't feeling well and Father Christmas had to go see him. You wouldn’t want Santa to let all the little children down tonight, would you?”