Avaline Saddlebags

by Netta Newbound

  “You get used to it after a while, darling,” Roy said.

  “I never thought about it before to be honest. I’d probably try to keep my face straight too and avoid mentioning the elephant in the room, when really, it’s okay to say something. In fact it’s pretty hilarious if they don’t.”

  “I know, the funniest reactions tend to be from the manliest of men—bouncers, security guards, the brutes are usually huge and muscle-bound but they act like frightened schoolgirls if you speak to them.”

  “I really enjoyed myself tonight,” I confessed. “Once the nerves had calmed down, I wasn’t expecting the buzz I got from it, to be honest.”

  “I knew you would.”

  I smiled at him and glanced out the window. A white Transit van was speeding along the side street. “Stop!” I screeched.

  Roy slammed his foot on the brake and the car skidded forwards and began turning sideways. The squealing sound was deafening.

  “Shit, Roy! Take it easy.”

  “Why the bloody hell did you do that?” he asked, gripping his chest dramatically. “You almost gave me heart failure.”

  “Because I saw something. Turn around and go up that street back there. Hurry up, he’ll get away.”

  “Who’ll get away? What the heck did you see?”

  “The van we’ve been searching for. Quick!”

  Roy, in a panic, was an even worse driver than usual and that was saying something. He proceeded to do a twenty-five point turn before we finally turned into the street. But, by then, of course, the street was empty.

  “Hurry up! We can’t let him get away. He might be looking for his next victim.”

  “Bloody hell! I told you I should’ve dressed as a cop!”

  “Just drive, Roy. This could be a matter of life or death.”

  “You really think it’s the killer? Oh, shit! I can’t do a car chase—I’ll kill us both.”

  “Pull over, for fuck’s sake. I’ll drive.”

  “Oh, no you won’t. You’re not insured to drive my car.”

  “Then put your fucking foot down. He’ll be over the other side of town by now.”

  “Don’t yell at me, darling. I’m not used to driving fast, and you yelling is making me worse.”

  I rolled my eyes—stressed to the hilt. As we sped along the street, I suddenly spotted some rear brake lights in the distance. “That must be him.”.

  But by the time we got to the end of the road, there was no sight of him.

  “Left, or right?” Roy asked, flapping his hands in a panic.

  “Fuck only knows. Try left.”

  Roy turned left, but he’d gone back to driving like an old woman.

  “Just take me home, Roy.” I pulled my phone from my bra and sent a message to Will and Layla.

  I spotted the van on Bennett Street.

  Can’t be certain, but I think it was

  our guy. Lost him. Roy was driving.

  I’ll come back out in my own car.

  Will replied.

  Sorry, boss, I’m already home.

  Do you want me to meet you?

  Yes please, Will. If Rachel

  doesn’t mind. If I do end up

  finding him I’d prefer not to

  be alone.

  No problem – meet

  you at yours in half

  an hour.

  Once home, Roy helped me remove the outfit and then I dressed in my jeans and T-shirt. Using Roy’s make-up remover, I looked more like myself in minutes.

  Still a little shaken up, Roy loaded his car and headed off, taking his food with him.

  I crammed the burger down my throat, grabbed my jacket, and ran outside when Will texted me moments later. I jumped into the passenger seat of his car, hoping he wasn’t as bad a driver as Roy had been. But if he was, at least I’d be able to take over.

  As we pulled away, a movement to the side of my gate caught my eye and I spotted Steve standing there looking at Will and me—a suspicious expression on his face.

  Shaking my head, I sent him a text.

  Sorry, Steve.

  Didn’t see you.

  I’m on police business.

  I’ll call you in the morning

  Steve didn’t reply. For fuck’s sake, that’s all I needed—a jealous stalker guy as a boyfriend, give me a break.

  We drove round and around for what seemed like hours, stopping several times at Columbus Quay where the Transit van had been first picked up on the CCTV after Gina’s murder. There were definitely no Transit vans to be seen—in fact the streets were practically dead.

  “Sorry, Will. I was certain we would find it—maybe I was totally mistaken.”

  “It’s okay, better safe than sorry. I’ll go into the station and check the street cameras tomorrow morning.”

  “Exactly. You may as well drop me off at home and get back to Rachel.”

  Twenty-Two

  I slept like the dead until well into the afternoon. It was years since I’d done that and I felt quite guilty.

  I reached for my phone. There were several texts from Bella asking about last night’s performance and one from Steve.

  I’m presuming we’re

  still out tonight?

  I considered calling it off, but it was our first official date and I didn’t want to give him the wrong message.

  Sounds good.

  What time and where?

  Your call,

  I’m easy.

  I did consider making a joke of how easy he was but sensed he was still a little miffed about last night and might not get the joke.

  Fancy Italian?

  Can do.

  Angelo’s then – 8.30?

  If we can

  get a table.

  I’ll call them

  and book.

  I checked my emails—nothing that couldn’t wait till Monday morning. I thought I would’ve heard from Will regarding the CCTV but there was nothing from him—maybe he’d slept in too?

  After going to the bathroom, I swapped my bed for the sofa, too exhausted to even get dressed. I felt utterly lazy.

  Waking from another nap, I finally replied to Bella, promising to call in tomorrow and fill her in. She seemed happy with that, probably because Simon was still home and keeping her occupied.

  The longer the day went on, the more relieved I felt that nobody had reported a dead body or a missing person. Maybe my instincts had been totally wrong about the van after all. I hoped so.

  At 8:35pm I entered Angelo’s trying to scan the dimly lit room for Steve. The waiter informed me I was the first to arrive as he led me to one of the booths.

  It irked me he was late. I wanted to be the one arriving last—not look like I was desperate. How childish was I?

  I ordered a glass of lager and browsed the menu.

  “Hey!”

  Startled, I looked up as Steve slid into the seat opposite me.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he said, not volunteering any explanation.

  “Are you? I didn’t notice. I’ve only just arrived myself. What do you want to drink?” I spewed the words out and wanted to kick myself

  “What are you having?”

  “Lager.”

  “Sounds good.” He nodded at the waiter who was hovering close by. “Another lager, please.”

  “So, about last night,” I said, wanting to get it out in the open so it didn’t ruin the evening. “I didn’t see you till I was in the car. We’d had a sighting of a van we’ve been looking for. Will came to pick me up.”

  “Will?”

  “He’s a colleague.”

  “I see. So who was the person I saw leave your house moments before that?”

  Shit! It hadn’t occurred to me he might have seen Roy. How long had he actually been standing there? Could he have seen me as Avaline? I decided to come clean—otherwise it could bite me in the arse. “Roy, a friend of mine, AKA Betty Swallocks.”

  “Classy,” he said.

  “We’d been t
o Dorothy’s.”

  “The nightclub?”

  I nodded. “I performed on stage as a drag queen last night.”

  His eyeballs almost shot from his head. So he hadn’t seen me—that was obvious.

  “I didn’t know that’s what you’re into.”

  “I’m not. I was undercover.”

  “Really?”

  “Someone’s targeting the trans community—I don’t have much choice.”

  “Fair enough.”

  The waiter returned with our lager, putting an end to that conversation. “Are you ready to order?” he asked, taking a pad from his pocket.

  “Gosh! No, sorry. Can you give us five minutes?” I grabbed hold of the menu again—my stomach rumbling noisily. “Sorry. I’m starving.” I laughed.

  His lips twitched. I could tell he was thawing.

  “What do you fancy?” I asked.

  “You.”

  That was unexpected. I felt the blood rush to my face. “Okay, I meant food.”

  “I know what you meant.”

  Putting the menu down, I scratched my head. “What’s happening here? I thought we’d agreed to keep things casual. Why do I feel the goalposts have moved?”

  “I know what we agreed, but honestly Dylan, I can’t get you out of my head.”

  “I like your Kylie reference.” I grinned, wanting to lighten the mood, but it flew over the top of his head.

  “I don’t know how you feel, but I want more than just meeting up for a quickie once or twice a week. I came last night to tell you, when I saw Betty…”

  “Swallocks.”

  “… Swallocks leaving. Then, moments later, another bloke turned up. I thought I’d got you completely wrong. That you were a slag, to be honest.”

  “Gee, thanks for that.”

  He shrugged, his gorgeous green eyes glinting in the candlelight.

  “So what changed your mind?”

  “Last night, I thought fuck it, it’s not meant to be—plenty more fish in the sea—the usual shite. But this morning, I still couldn’t get you out of my head, and decided to tell you how I feel. So here I am, making a complete fool of myself.”

  I smiled. “I don’t know about that, I kinda like it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I shrugged. “I think I feel the same.”

  “For real?”

  “Yeah, for real.”

  “I want to kiss you right now.”

  “Don’t you dare! I don’t go for kissing in public.”

  “I’m glad you told me that before I made an even bigger fool of myself.”

  I laughed. “But I’m looking forward to seeing how things develop after our first date.”

  “Can’t wait.”

  “You do know my job must come first though, don’t you?”

  “Of course, I do.”

  I nodded. “Good, because that’s the main reason cop’s relationships don’t go the distance. Oh, shit! The waiter’s on his way back.” I grabbed the menu once again. “Quick, decide what you’re eating.”

  Twenty-Three

  “Hello, you two,” Bella said, pulling the door open. “Come in and go straight through to the kitchen, we’re sat in there.”

  I pushed Steve in first. He bent down to kiss her cheek. “Nice to finally meet you.”

  “You too.”

  I followed them in. “How’s baby?”

  “Fast asleep, thank God. The little bugger has had me up most of the night.”

  “Oh, no, I bet you’re both knackered.”

  “I’m exhausted, Simon not so much.”

  “How come?” I asked.

  “He can sleep through dropping bombs remember, so a crying baby is nothing.”

  Steve tittered. “We can look after the little one if you want to get a bit of sleep.”

  “Thanks, love, but I tend to sleep when little master does.”

  “Well, we won’t stay long,” I said.

  “Don’t be daft, Dylan. We’ve been looking forward to seeing you, and I’m eager to know how the case is going.”

  The four of us sat around the kitchen table.

  I figured Bella must be bored because she’d baked enough cakes and scones to sink a battleship.

  “You’ll miss all this, Bells,” I teased, winking at Simon.

  “Like hell I will,” she snapped. “I’m not the Mary Berry type, but tied to the house, my options are limited.”

  “She’d be back in work tomorrow if she could.” Simon shovelled half a buttered scone in his mouth. “Mmmm–delicious.”

  Bella glowered at him. “You’ll have to excuse my husband’s manners–he’s used to shitting in the desert and wiping his arse on the sleeve of his jacket, aren’t you, love?”

  “Huh?” He shoved the other half in his mouth.

  I snorted. “You two crack me up.”

  Bella turned to Steve. “If you two ever get married, any mystery soon dissolves.” She nodded toward me. “He’ll soon be using the toilet when you’re in the bath.”

  I didn’t have a response and was thankful when Simon spoke up. “How’s the case going? I’ve seen it on the news–sickening stuff.”

  There was nothing I could go into detail about, especially with Simon and Steve listening, but told them what I could.

  “You know I’m at Dorothy’s again on Friday?”

  Bella’s face lit up. “Oh, I know and can’t wait.”

  “Why?”

  “Cos I’m gonna be there, that’s why.”

  “You’re bloody well not.”

  “I wish I could see it,” Steve piped up. “But he’s barred me from going.”

  “I’ll be there, you mark my words. I’ve already squared it with Simon. Roy’s gonna pick me up and drop me off home. I can’t wait to see you do your stuff.”

  “But you have a new baby. You can’t be out ‘til that time of night.”

  “I’m not Cinderella. I don’t have to be home by the stroke of midnight,” she said. “My gorgeous hubby is returning to barracks soon and has insisted I enjoy a night out, because, let’s face it, we don’t know when the next one will be.”

  “How sweet of him,” I said, with a snide tone.

  “You’re such a little bitch,” Bella said, playfully slapping my arm.

  “I’m not. It’s just embarrassing.”

  “Bollocks,” she shouted, before remembering the sleeping baby in the adjoining room. “Will sent me a few videos from your last show—”

  “It wasn’t a show,” I interrupted. “Just me miming to one song.”

  “You know what I mean. I thought you were absolutely fabulous–even Simon said he’d do you, didn’t you love?”

  Simon spluttered. “I didn’t put it quite like that, Bells.”

  “Have you still got the video?” Steve asked.

  “Yeah.” Bella was all smiles. “Wanna see it?”

  “No, he doesn’t,” I protested.

  “Yes, he does, miserable arse.” She got up and grabbed her phone from the work surface.

  I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. “Don’t you dare show him.”

  “Ah, shut up.”

  As she went to give the phone to Steve, I snatched it from her hand.

  “Aw, come on—let me see,” Steve asked.

  “No. I’m not ready yet.” I was adamant he wouldn’t be seeing, it. “Anyway, I’m going to check on the baby if you don’t mind.”

  “Suit yourself, Avaline,” Bella said.

  I stuck my middle finger up and they all burst out laughing.

  Monday morning traffic was usually a nightmare and today was no exception. I was less than eager to get into work knowing what was coming. After my performance at Dorothy’s I’d be a minor celebrity, albeit fleetingly until all jokes were exhausted.

  My thoughts were correct–I already knew Will had recorded my performance and sent it straight to Bella. I wondered who else he’d sent it to.

  I’d tried to call Layla all weekend,
but she didn’t reply. I hadn’t heard from her since Friday when she’d told me the kids were acting up. Hopefully, normality had been resumed and she would be in work today.

  Walking tentatively into the reception area, Stan, the desk sergeant, turned and sniggered. Here we go, I thought.

  “Buzz me through and shut it,” I said, pre-empting whatever he had planned.

  “Anything you say, DI Saddlebags.” He turned away, his shoulders rising and falling in obvious mirth.

  I pulled the door open and strolled through the main reception area.

  “Hey, big spender,” Fiona, a WPC, cackled.

  “Hi, Fiona,” I said with a smile. “Howd’you fancy traffic duties next week?” That wiped the smile off her face. “No? Thought not.”

  Not another word was spoken, but as I approached the incident room, I braced myself and pushed the doors open.

  It was just gone 8am and the place was a hive of activity.

  “What’s going on in here?”

  Layla walked toward me. “Morning, Dylan.”

  “Hi. What’s happening?”

  “I think the team have found a new level of admiration for you after your performance last week.”

  “Oh?”

  “You’ve earned a huge amount of respect putting yourself out there like that. I think they wanted to acknowledge your sacrifice and get in early, you know, crack on with the case.”

  I wasn’t overly emotional by nature, but I was touched by the gesture, and grateful the place hadn’t been decorated with feather boas.

  “Well, I appreciate that, but there’s something I need to make you all aware of.”

  “What is it?”

  I brought the room to order. “Ladies and gents, can I have your attention, please.” All eyes focused on me. “Thanks for getting in early today. I really appreciate your efforts.” They nodded. “I’m not sure if Will told you but I’m certain I spotted the Transit van after leaving the club early hours of Saturday morning. My driver tried to give chase, but, let’s just say, he’s no Lewis Hamilton and we lost him.”