I smiled at James and he smiled back.
An idea struck me. An idea that had been dormant for a while. “And I could have a party on the beach. A really big party, asking everyone I know. All my clients from previous cases. There’d be hundreds and hundreds of people on my guest list. The wine would be top quality and all the party food from M & S. I’d serve the wine in proper glass glasses.”
“Not on the beach, Jordan. Broken glass is dangerous.”
“Then I’d get pretty plastic ones, not those awful plastic beakers. And a barbecue, the best meat for the carnivores but lots of fish. Salmon fillets and sushi.”
“Waitrose does sushi trays for parties. A dozen different ways with raw tuna.”
“Perfect. Sushi trays, salads, rolls. Fireworks! Oh yes, James, we must have fireworks. Shooting stars and twinkling lights. I adore fireworks.” I was getting carried away. “I can get a few trusty men to set them up for me. I love that one that looks like golden rain, a cascade of golden sparks like a huge umbrella shooting towards you. What’s it called?”
“Golden Rain. You’ve got to get permission for fireworks.”
“I’ll apply for permission.”
I remembered the last time I had planned a beach party and why it had to be canceled. Ben had died in a car chase, a senseless waste of life.
“Is Sergeant Rawlings well enough to come? I heard he was off sick.”
“He’s getting better. I’m sure he’d make an effort to come to your party. Everyone will come.”
“Will you be at my party?” I asked. I had been dreading his answer, too scared to ask. He had said nothing about when he would be leaving. “Or will you have gone to Yorkshire?”
“No, I’ll come to your party wherever I am.” said James. “Nothing will stop me. I’d like to relax on the beach with a glass of cold beer, watching fireworks, listening to your ridiculous chatter.”
“I don’t chatter.” I said.
“Yes you do,” he said. “But I like it.”
He smiled at me and it was the sweetest smile I’d seen for years. Was DI James mellowing? Had I broken through the barrier at last?
“Would you like another glass of wine. Jordan?” he asked, getting up. “Your glass is empty.”
“Yes, please. The same. White with ice.”
It was the last thing we ever said to each other.
He moved over to join the crowd at the bar. The band was playing “Georgia” with persuasive, languorous outbreaths.
I saw it moving, an uncanny glint of silver. I’d seen that glint before. It had been in my mind for months. No one else saw it. They were either listening to the music or chatting among themselves, taking no notice. Georgia… Georgia…
The knight in his shining suit of armor was swaying on his precarious perch above the bar canopy. His pinnings, his weight, were not stable. He was about to topple, pointed feet of metal, sharp as razors, poised to slice through someone’s neck.
Right below stood James, for once relaxed, a glass of beer in one hand, my wine in the other, about to return to me, but stopping for a moment to enjoy and listen to the soul-searing, plaintive sound of Georgia, Georgia.
“James, James!” I shouted but no one heard me through the soaring notes of the solo flugel horn.
“Look out! James!” I cried again. I stumbled to my feet, knocking over a chair, shouldering people, treading on toes, not caring.
“Look out!” My voice was anguished.
I threw myself across the room to push James out of the way as the suit of armor came crashing down on to the drinkers, steel-pointed shoes slicing through clothes and flesh. I saw that flash of silver as I had many times before, crimson blood spurting, some of it seemed to be mine.
Janie’s face was suddenly aghast, then both shocked and grave. I made room for pain.
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Acknowledgements
Again, many thanks to my good friend and Chief Superintendent Detective who goes through my manuscripts with a laser beam; the Fine Arts Society; Dr D C Thomas; dog breeder friends and fishing enthusiasts on the pier and beach.
Also thanks to both Oxted Library and Worthing Library staff, who are wonderful in finding endless information.
Lastly, to my new editor, Tom Jordan (no relation to Lacey), whose meticulous work has reduced any errors. If there are any, they are all mine.
Ring and Die (Jordan Lacey Mysteries Book 6) Page 22
