Lethal Intent

Forty

As soon as she stepped through the front door Maggie kicked off her heavy black shoes and climbed the stairs to the bedroom. Twenty minutes later she had showered, towel-dried her thick red hair and changed into a sweatshirt, jeans and slippers.

As she stepped into the big kitchen she glanced at her watch, wondering what had delayed Stevie, until at that moment she heard his key turn in the Yale lock. She was there to kiss him as he stepped through the door. 'Hi, boy,' she greeted him. 'What kept you?'

'Mary,' he said. 'She wanted to fill me in on the latest about Ross Pringle.'

'Mmm,' Maggie murmured. 'That's terrible, isn't it? How is she? What did Mary say?'

'She's still unconscious, and nobody's taking any bets that she'll ever come round. Apparently Dan's just devastated. He collapsed completely at the hospital. They had to sedate him, then Mario took him and his wife home. He wouldn't let her hand go, apparently.'

She frowned. 'The whole thing's tragic,' she said. She led him into the kitchen and poured him a large glass of red wine from a bottle that had been left over from the previous evening, then went to the sink and drew herself a large glass of water from the tap. 'I'm not surprised that Dan's taken it like that. It's in contrast to the way George Regan's handling his loss, but they're very different people. Dan's emotions have always been closer to the surface.'

'Plus, he's older,' said Stevie. 'He probably figures he owes it to his wife to be with her.'

'I doubt it. Elma's always struck me as the stronger emotionally of the two of them. I'd guess that he needs to be with her.'

'Are there any other kids?'

'They have a son, Samuel. He's at least ten years older than Ross, maybe more than that; he works in Hong Kong with a merchant bank. I don't think he and Dan got on: he never talked about him much.'

'They'll have to get on now.'

'It might not be as easy as that. Closeness between parents and kids isn't something that can be switched on at will.'

He sipped his Coronas. 'You sound bitter when you say that. Personal experience?'

She nodded, looking at her glass. It was empty, so she refilled it. 'Yes. My mother and I never got on; it wasn't my fault, at least I don't think it was. There was no bond between us, that's all.'

'And your father? You realise you've never talked about your parents?'

'My father's dead. I've never talked about him because I don't want to, don't want even to think about him, ever again. Does that shock you?'

'No. If he makes you sound like that, I don't want you to think about him. I'll never ask you again, I promise.'

Her smile returned. 'You know, Stevie Steele, you can be a real love sometimes.'

He chuckled. 'Only sometimes?'

'Okay, all the time. But some times even more than others, like yesterday, when I told you my news. Honestly, I wasn't sure how you'd take it, with us still being so new to each other. But you looked so happy, you made me want to cry.'

'If you're right, I'm still just as happy, I promise you. You're still sure, are you?'

'Yes, but I'm a copper, so I need evidence.' She reached into her handbag, and held up a package wrapped in paper. 'I can't wait any longer. I left a bit early today so that I could go into a chemist where nobody was likely to know me, and I bought this. It's a testing kit:

He laughed out loud. 'I wondered why you were drinking all that water.'

Maggie patted her stomach. 'It's having its effect, too.' Still holding the kit, she headed for the door. 'I won't be long… at least I don't think I will.'

'Do you want me to come with you?' He was joking, but for a second she took him seriously.

'I know how to aim, thanks,' she retorted. 'Shut up or I'll use your beer tankard for the sample.'

He watched her as she climbed the stairs, then drained his glass. As he poured himself a refill, he realised that his hands were trembling and that his heart was beating fast. He walked to the window and looked out into the night. The weather had become progressively colder, and he thought that he could see a few snowflakes in the beams of the streetlights. He smiled as he dreamed of building a snowman in the garden.

He was lost in his thoughts and so he did not hear her come back into the kitchen, until she coughed quietly behind him, to attract his attention.

He turned. Her face was impassive, and her hands were behind her back; and then a grin turned quickly into a beam as she held up a white plastic strip. 'I got a black dot,' she said. 'Congratulations, Dad.'