“Didn’t fancy it then? A quick finger in the bogs? A bit of fanny bumping?”
The other detectives held their breath. Wheeler’s face was like thunder.
“I know what you’m trying to do,” she said quietly but firmly. “Trying to provoke me into using inappropriate language. It’s not going to happen, Benny boy. And if I was you, I’d be more concerned with what’s all over the internet this morning.”
She clicked the remote. Video footage of Tasha the Flasha played on the screen, recorded on some punter’s phone.
Stevens paled. He threw himself at the screen, trying to prevent the others from seeing. The image of his made-up face was projected onto the real thing.
His colleagues whooped and cheered. Wheeler caught Brough’s eye.
“My office,” she said.
He followed her out.
***
Wheeler showed him in then slammed the office door.
“I’m upset, David,” she said. “The old you wouldn’t take notice of Stevens. You’d have eaten him for breakfast.”
“Upset with you,” she clarified. “What you said last night before you got in your ambulance. I thought it was the stress of the moment. I want you to tell me it was the stress of the moment. Tell me you’ve changed your mind.”
“I haven’t,” said Brough. “I’m leaving.”
“Sit down, David.” It wasn’t a request.
Brough stayed on his feet. “I meant what I said.” He stared at the wall above the diminutive chief inspector’s head. “I’m going.”
“Look,” Wheeler spread her hands on her desk, “I understand; if you want to take some leave - compassionate grounds, sick leave, whatever - that’s fine. We can handle the paperwork for all this - madness - without you. And then you can come back, all refreshed and relaxed and -” she shook her head. “I’m not getting through to you, am I? I’m wasting my breath.”
“You are, rather,” said Brough.
Wheeler jabbed the air with an angry finger. “Oh, you can be a right cold fish at times,” she was struggling to keep her temper. “When you first came to Dedley, I never thought you’d be able to work in the team but you proved me wrong. You’re a vital component of what makes Serious Serious, David.”
“No one’s indispensable,” said Brough.
“But why, David? Why pack it in? I don’t get it.”
“Reasons,” said Brough. “I will take you up on your offer of leave. Effective immediately. I’ll use what I’ve got left in lieu of notice.”
“But what about young Whojimmyflop - Pattimore? You’ll break his heart.”
Brough answered with a look of cold disdain.
“Ah.” Wheeler was not head of a crack team of detectives by chance. “There’s the rub. Honestly, you of all people, letting personal affairs get in the way of the job.”
“It’s not like that,” Brough sneered. “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me. In words of one syllable or less.”
“Or fewer,” Brough corrected automatically. “You’ll have my letter of resignation by lunchtime. New year, new start, and all of that.”
He made for the door.
“And what about Miller?”
Wheeler’s words halted him like a game of Simon Says.
Brough looked her in the eye.
“I’ll say goodbye to her in person.”
He turned the handle. Wheeler closed her eyes as he left the office. Then she rushed out into the corridor and called after him - just as the rest of the team were coming out of the briefing room, still giggling at Stevens’s expense.
“Oh, go on then,” Wheeler roared at Brough’s back as he walked away. “Fucking fuck the fuck off, you fucking, cock-knocking, selfish, piss-guzzling fucking bastard, wanker-faced, thundercunt!”
She rounded on the team. “And what the fucking cock am you lot fucking gawping at? You can fuck off and all.”
She withdrew into her office and slammed the door hard enough to break the glass.
“She’s back,” said Stevens. He held out his hands. Pattimore and Harry Henry handed over ten-pound notes.
20.
“David, my boy!” Chief Constable Peter Brough (retired) was delighted to hear his son’s voice. “Happy New Year to you - I know I’m twelve hours early but I expect you’ll be out later, using ‘party’ as a verb.”
“Dad - I - Well, listen; what are you and Mum doing tonight? Would you like a visitor?”
“We’d be overjoyed!” Peter Brough stroked his chin. “Bringing anyone with you?”
“Um, no. Just me.”
“I see.” Peter Brough knew better than to pursue that line of enquiry.
“I’ll see you later,” said Brough and disconnected.
He walked through the main entrance of the hospital just as Jerry and Miller were coming out, the former pushing the latter in a wheelchair.
“Miller!” Brough cried. “You’re looking...better? Are you better?”
“Dunno,” said Miller. “They’ve done loads of tests.”
“We’re just going home,” said Jerry, keen to move off.
“Get us a taxi, love.” Miller patted his hand. With visible reluctance, Jerry peeled himself away.
“Well,” said Miller, “you must give me all the gory details.”
“About what?”
“The case! Honestly, you can be a bit slow sometimes.”
“Well, it’s big. Much bigger than we thought.” He rolled his eyes, “Now comes all the paperwork.”
“And everybody’s okay?”
“Yes... They send their regards. And Wheeler’s swearing again. Gave me a proper mouthful.”
“Why? What did you do?”
Brough had to look away. The slush was all but gone. The wet ground was glistening in the low winter sunlight. The town was bright and fresh again. It really did feel like an opportunity for a new start.
“Listen, Miller; there’s something I have to tell you.”
A doctor hurried out of the building. He looked relieved to find Miller where she was.
“Ah, Melanie! You haven’t left. We would only have called you right back in again.”
Brough was alarmed. “Why, what is it, doctor?”
“Are you a relative?”
“This is my partner,” Miller grinned.
Before Brough could clear up any misunderstanding, the doctor was wheeling Miller back indoors. Brough had to shift himself to keep up. As they went through Reception, he overheard a frantic woman explain she was Mrs Keith Daley and demand to see him at once. Oops, thought Brough; Daley’s explanations were far from over.
“We’ve got the results,” the doctor explained as they headed for a private room.
“Hear that, David? Now, we’ll find out what’s wrong with me.”
“Um, perhaps I should get Jerry...”
“I can’t wait!” Miller protested. “And I’d like somebody with me.”
She held out her hand. Brough took it.
“Don’t worry, Miller,” he sighed. “I’m not going anywhere.”
***
At the rear of the hospital, a van waited with its engine running. At the wheel, the driver looked at the fire escape with eager anticipation.
“Come on, come on...”
The driver placed a small figure, fashioned from clay, on the dashboard. She laid it flat and then made it sit up.
Come on, come on...
Muttering an incantation, Dr Mvula made the little effigy stand up and walk. It was too good an opportunity to miss. She couldn’t let this chance go by. The research potential was incalculable. It was worth the risk, worth stealing the van. And you couldn’t really call it body-snatching.<
br />
Inside, in his hospital bed, Ronnie Flavell pushed his blankets to the floor.
THE END
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