You Are Dead

105

Thursday 25 December

In the years following Sandy’s disappearance, Christmas had been a meaningless time of year for Roy Grace, in which he’d preferred to work rather than try to be jolly with family.

Last year, for the first time, with Cleo, he had actually enjoyed it again. He had been looking forward to it so much this year in their new home in the country. He thought about a roaring open fire, walks in the country with little Noah in a carrier on his back. Instead, he was confined to this small single room, at the Royal Sussex County Hospital.

Every inch of shelf space, and the table beside his bed, was covered in cards — mostly from his work colleagues, along with a mass of flowers and baskets of fruit.

Reluctantly Cleo had left to take Noah home to bed. The television was on, a Christmas special of Downton Abbey. He watched Hugh Bonneville raising a toast. Then suddenly the door opened and Cassian Pewe walked in carrying a festive bottle-bag and a card. Yet again he was dressed in one of his loud-checked sports jackets, roll-neck sweater, cavalry twills and distinctly vulgar two-tone brogues.

‘Roy! Happy Christmas!’ he said in his nasally whine. ‘I had planned to come sooner, but you know what Christmas Day is like!’

‘Very nice to see you, sir.’ Grace did his best to muster a smile, and in truth was pleasantly surprised to see his boss.

‘Brought you a little something to cheer you up!’ He handed Grace the heavy bag and card.

‘Thank you!’

Pewe sat down on the chair beside the bed and Grace smelled the reek of an obnoxiously sweet cologne, perhaps a Christmas gift.

‘Nice work, Roy.’

‘Thank you.’

‘No, thank you. What you’ve done is over and above anything expected. You’ve shown the city of Brighton and Hove, the county of Sussex and the entire damned country what good policing really is. We are all proud of you, and indebted to you. You’re a hero!’

Grace waited for the negative punchline, but it didn’t come.

‘Last year you saved my life, Roy. I know we haven’t always seen eye to eye, but it’s funny how life works out. I don’t want to go into the New Year feeling any tension between us — that’s why I’ve come to see you tonight. You’re a damned fine copper. You’re the best. I’m proud to be working with you, and I’m sorry if I doubted you in the past. OK?’ He held out his hand.

Grace shook it. Pewe’s handshake was limp and slimy. ‘OK!’

‘I’m sure you want to know the latest on the recovery of Crisp’s body. We’ve had some problems; the tunnel’s flooded from fractured pipes and it’s full of water and sewage that we’re pumping out but it’ll take a few days.

‘Now, as I understand it you’ve just moved home, but Operation Haywain has prevented you from helping out in any way — is that correct?’

‘Well, I suppose so. Luckily, I have an understanding wife.’

Pewe tapped his chest. ‘And an understanding ACC. I’m told you will be allowed home before the New Year. I understand you’ll be on a month’s sick leave, Roy. Spend some quality time at home, getting straight, and with your lovely wife and your baby son. And forget all about Major Crime. Come back on Feb 1st fully charged up — we’re going to be needing you in the New Year firing on all cylinders. Right?’

‘A month?’ Grace tried to remember the last time he’d had that amount of time off, and couldn’t. Instantly he was suspicious. ‘I’m sure I won’t need that long.’

‘It’s not an option, Roy, it’s an order. I’ve seen too many marriages in the police ruined because of the workload of officers.’ He grinned, exposing a set of immaculate white teeth, and shiny, rosebud lips.

Five minutes later, to Roy Grace’s relief, Pewe left.