For Death Comes Softly

Ten

One evening I got home from work early. I had been at my Kingswood desk since just after six in the morning. The case was weighing heavily on me. Twelve hours later, by 6.00 p.m., I could barely see straight. Peter Mellor came in to my office and propped himself on my desk.

‘There is a team here, you know boss,’ he remarked quietly. ‘You can’t do it on your own. That only happens in storybooks.’

I managed a smile.

‘I guess I’m a bit more involved than usual,’ I said. ‘Can’t get over the feeling I may have condemned that boy to his death.’

I knew that was melodrama. After all, I had written a report on this kind of thing, hadn’t I? I knew that the way I was feeling about Stephen Jeffries and what may have happened to him was the classic over-reaction of a beleaguered CPT officer. But knowing all of that didn’t help much. I rubbed my eyes with one clenched fist. They were stinging. I felt a bit dizzy. My face was hot.

Peter Mellor stood up.

‘Boss, you’re a copper, not God Almighty,’ he said.

This time my smile was not so forced.

‘Go home, why don’t you,’ he went on. ‘You’ve been here since dawn. Take an evening off. Get a good night’s sleep. You’re no good to anyone in this state.’

‘Thank you for your confidence, Peter,’ I said rather more sarcastically than I had intended. But I knew he was right.

I picked up the phone and called Robin, who seemed to be spending more and more time at my flat, to tell him the good news. I would be home in time for dinner for the first time in days.

Robin met me at the door. He was wearing washed-out pale blue jeans and a tee shirt. No socks or shoes. His eyes shone. He caught hold of me quite roughly and pushed me against the wall. I could feel that he already had an erection. He began to pull at my clothes. His hands were everywhere, pushing the skirt of my working suit upwards, pulling my tights and pants down, until very quickly his fingers were inside me. His mouth was tight over mine, his tongue almost down my throat. I could barely breath, yet I could feel my troubles floating away. At that time in my life sex with Robin sometimes seemed to be about the only really worthwhile thing there was.

He lifted me slightly off the floor and pushed my legs apart. I heard the sound of his flies being unzipped and in the next second he was somehow inside me. I had been in the flat about thirty seconds and we were already fucking, standing up in the hallway. Robin liked to display that kind of animal eagerness. And I liked it too. By God I did. More than I had ever liked anything in my life. The man was a bull. My back was wedged against the wall and my legs were wrapped around him when I climaxed, and his thrusts became increasingly urgent as he reached a climax too. Sometimes it felt as if our lovemaking became more and more erotic each time. I was overwhelmed by Robin and my passion for him.

When it was over and he pulled away from me I simply sank to the ground and sat there panting. He was also out of breath, leaning against a chair watching me. My skirt was around my waist and my tights and knickers remained wound around one ankle.

‘I must look totally ridiculous,’ I said.

‘Not to me you don’t,’ he said. And his voice was deep and husky. ‘To me you just look inviting.’

He sat down on the floor in front of me, bent his head and buried his face in me and did not stop until I had climaxed again. We still hadn’t moved out of the hall.

‘If only Peter Mellor could see me now,’ I said absurdly afterwards.

‘There is a part of me that would like the whole world to see you now,’ Robin told me, with a wicked grin. ‘To see the state to which Detective Chief Inspector Piper can be reduced by the right touch...’ He ran a fingernail lightly across my upper lip.

‘Beast,’ I said.

He grinned again. ‘I do love you,’ he told me, as he did with reassuring frequency nowadays.

‘I know,’ I responded.

‘Don’t be smug,’ he said, tapping me lightly on the nose with one finger.

Abruptly he stood up, just as I was telling him I loved him too.

‘Come on,’ he instructed. ‘Put your clothes back on and I’ll take you out to dinner.’

‘Don’t you think perhaps I should have a shower?’ I asked.

‘No, I don’t,’ he said.

At the restaurant I was distinctly aware that we both still smelt of sex, which I suspected had been Robin’s intention.

The meal was somehow almost as erotic as the lovemaking which had proceeded it. We laughed a lot. I could think of nothing except my passion for him. The waiters caught our joy, and they warmed to Robin. He had an easy jovial manner and a lot of charm. It was not difficult to warm to him.

At the end of the dinner Robin passed me a small black box.

‘Open it,’ he commanded.

I did so. A door key lay within on a bed of black velvet. I looked at him enquiringly.

‘It’s a key to Highpoint House,’ he said. ‘You’ll need it if you accept what else is in the box. Lift up the velvet.’

By then I suppose I had guessed the second item that the box must contain, but I still could hardly believe it. After all, we had been together for only just over three months — yet I could not imagine my life without Robin Davey, could barely remember even what it had been like before. Already it seemed quite natural that we should be together for ever.

I turned my attention back to the small black box, lifting up the layer of velvet as Robin had instructed. Beneath it was slotted an exquisite diamond ring.

I said nothing. I didn’t know what to say.

Robin leaned across the table so that his face was close to mine and I could smell the sex on him stronger than ever. When he spoke his voice was low and caressing, almost hypnotic.

‘Will you marry me?’ he asked.