Fallen Gods

Forty-One

"How did we do with Sheringham?" Maggie Rose asked briskly. Steele and Regan faced her across the desk in her small office.

"He either hides the incriminating evidence in mysterious ways, ma'am," the inspector replied, 'or there ain't any. We went in there with our search warrant at seven o'clock, and we searched every inch of it, but we found nothing explosive or inflammatory apart from a can of hair-spray."

"I thought he lived alone."

"He does," Steele replied, 'but us guys, these days, we're full of surprises."

"The only hair-spray in our house is mine, but I'll take your word for it. Did you put a sniffer dog in?" She caught his frown. "Sorry, I should have taken that for granted. It didn't react to anything, then?"

"There was a blown condom under the bed, but that was all that excited it."

"She must have been in heat," Regan muttered. Rose glared at him.

"There was nothing at all, absolutely nothing?"

"Well," said Steele, 'there was an extra remote. The boy's a gadget freak. He's got a snazzy hi-fi, a big telly, DVD player, video, and all of them work off remotes. But there was an extra one."

"Is that significant?"

"Long shot, but it could be. The technical boys say that it might be possible to trigger an incendiary with a telly remote, if you set it up right. But we'd need to have the detonator to know that, and it was pretty much melted in the fire."

"Yes, damn it, so it was." She looked at the two men. "What you're telling me, then, is that we don't have any grounds for continuing to detain him?"

"Apart from being a little shite, no, we don't," the inspector admitted. "The phone call isn't enough, not nearly. Even last night, once he'd had a chance to think about it, he was claiming that someone could have taken his phone from his pocket, used it, then put it back.

It was made at seven-thirty; there was a staff drinks party in the Candela and Finch offices last Friday evening, part of the bicentenary celebrations."

"So he could be telling the truth?"

"Yes, and if he is that gives us a list of about a hundred and fifty guys to work through. If he isn't, it makes no bloody difference; the phone call alone isn't enough."

"He goes, then. I'll phone his solicitor; I'd better start making soothing noises as well. George, go down to the cells and get him."

The sergeant nodded, and left the room.

"There's one thing worries me about turning him loose, Maggie," said Steele as the door closed.

"I know. He's still the main suspect. Suppose he tries to scare Andrea again?"

"He needs the fear of Himself put in him then, just in case."

"No, he needs me to advise him and his lawyer, politely, about the need to make no contact with Miss Strachan, while this enquiry is unresolved, and she remains a potential witness. Sheringham's well advised, Stevie. However personal you might find this thing becoming, he'll be more afraid of the Law Society than he is of you." She smiled at him.

"But keep an eye on her, informally," she offered, 'if you want. Someone made that call, and if it wasn't our man downstairs, he's still around, he knows about Andrea, and we don't know about him."

Steele nodded. "I agree. I'll keep her safe, don't worry." He looked at Rose. "I like her; that's all I'm saying, but there's something about her, Maggie. With her medication stable and her confidence back, she really is a completely different personality. She's attractive, and she's got a dry sense of humour about her that takes you by surprise."

"But she's wounded, Steve. Don't forget that."

"I know she is. She knows what's happened to her, and even though she's fine under treatment, she hasn't forgotten it. She can't hide her pain completely… any more than you can."

Maggie started; she looked sharply at him, and for a moment he thought that he had said something that would destroy their easy relationship, until she turned her face away and looked out of the window.

"That obvious, huh?" she murmured.

"It is to me."

"Is the whole force talking about me, then?" she asked. "About me and my husband?"

"Not the whole force; only those who don't know any better, although that's about ninety per cent. Those who know you both, reckon that if you've got problems, you're strong enough to sort them out in time.

While you're doing that, they don't change the people you are."

She turned back to face him, leaning back against the edge of her desk.

"We don't have problems, Stevie," she whispered. "I do. Mario's sleeping with your ex-girlfriend… his own cousin… and I don't mind. I wish I did, but I don't. That's all part of it, you see. I don't and I can't."

"Maggie, sorry," he exclaimed. "I shouldn't have said anything. I wasn't prying, honest."

"I know you weren't. Somebody had to say something, eventually; I'd rather it was you than Dan Pringle, or George, or some other dipstick.

You may have a reputation among women as a dangerous guy, Stevie, but as far as I'm concerned you're a nice bloke. You listen, and you care.

So listen to this. The thing is, I'm glad that Paula and Mario are indulging themselves with each other. Because it takes a big weight off of me! Understand?"

He put his hands on her shoulders; to her inward surprise, she did not flinch, not pull away. "I think so," he replied. "Now you understand this, Detective Superintendent Rose. I don't know what's happened to fuck up your head, and instinct tells me that I do not want to know, but whatever it is, however awful, it is not big enough to overcome your spirit. You are a very attractive woman, Maggie, but you're more than that. You're the strongest woman I've ever met, and I've admired you through all the time we've worked together. You may have given in to self-doubt, and persuaded yourself that you can never overcome this problem, and have let it dictate how you live your life. If you have, you are wrong. I don't believe there is anything that you can't face down, with what's in here…" he put a finger against her forehead

'… and in here." He tapped the same finger against her chest, between her breasts.

He took her hand in his, squeezed it and held it. "Sorry to be a little informal, ma'am," he murmured. "But you're worth it."

She looked solemnly up at him, and realised that for the first time in as long as she could remember, she felt no hint of revulsion at the touch of a man. She lifted his hand, in turn, to her face, and held it gently against her cheek for a few seconds, then let it go.

"Forgiven, inspector," she murmured, full of confusion, but smiling.

"And thanks for caring. What if you're wrong, though?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You're not going to tell me, are you, that you don't have the courage even to try?"