with the latch that kept it pinned to the wall, then wince as it hit the top of his knee with a bang. He scrunched down in the chair a little, and she eased his plate on to the small square of wood. ‘No salt, I’m afraid, I haven’t been shopping this week.’ She tended to buy only small, strictly needful items of grocery, since she didn’t have the storage space on the boat that most home-owners were used to.
‘This is fine,’ Regis lied gamely, and prodded a piece of rather soggy fish experimentally. Hillary went back for the wine and poured out two large glasses.
‘So how’s Vice?’
‘Busy,’ Regis grunted. ‘With the summer comes the grockles, and you know what comes with them.’
Hillary grinned. ‘Grockles’ was Regis’s favourite word for tourists, and she did, indeed, know what came with them. More prostitutes, more drug dealers, more illegal gambling. All the things that were Vice’s bread and butter.
‘And you?’ He looked up over his plate, his eyes softening on her as she sprawled tiredly in her chair. Her hair was mussed and clung to her cheeks, making him want to push it gently away. Her big, doe-like brown eyes that had always made his heart beat just a bit faster, looked strained and yet eager.
‘Got a new murder case today,’ she said simply, and he nodded knowingly.
‘Ah.’ That explained it. ‘You’re getting quite a rep for them.’
Hillary shrugged. It was her Chief Super, Marcus Donleavy, she suspected, who’d been responsible for her being in charge of so many murder inquiries. And Mel Mallow, of course, her oldest friend, who, as Danvers’s immediate superior, was in charge of who was assigned to what.
‘So, what’s it all about?’ Regis asked, staring suspiciously at a tomato. He prodded it and it rolled obligingly across the plate.
‘Young guy, bit of a Casanova. Found dead in a meadow with a red paper heart weighted on his chest.’
‘Blimey.’
‘That’s what I thought. A bit over the top. Already his girlfriend and her father might be in the frame, and I’ve got the feeling that before long, we’re only going to add to their number.’ Briefly she outlined her day. ‘So I expect we’ll be up to our eyeball in female suspects once we know the extent of his list of clients.’
Regis smiled. ‘Bit of a change from your last case then. As I recall, you were struggling to find even one person with a motive.’
Hillary sighed and sipped her wine. She bit half-heartedly into a lettuce leaf, thinking of cod and chips. The bread thoughwas nice, especially lathered with naughty butter. Arare indulgence , but she’d bought a half-pound on impulse and was now glad that she had.
Outside, the evening light slowly died and the stars came out. She cleared and washed the dinner things, putting them away neatly before opening all the windows to let in a cool, evening breeze.
‘Are you staying?’ she asked softly.
‘Do you want me to?’ he asked, almost diffidently.
She frowned. ‘Of course. Why? Don’t you want to stay?’
‘Don’t talk daft, woman,’ he growled, and let her lead him to the bedroom, a tiny cabin with a single bed that could pull out to make an almost three-quarter bed. He watched her undress with lazy-lidded eyes, and when she was finished, took a step back into the corridor to do the same. To attempt to strip in the tiny space would have had him scraping his elbows and bumping his knees and toes – and who knew what other protruding bits – into the walls or furniture.
Hillary giggled as he got naked into bed beside her, then gave a muffled yelp of laughter as she turned to face him and he nearly fell out the other side. ‘Come here,’ she said helpfully , pulling him on top of her.
It was nearly four in the morning when Regis finally admitted defeat and slipped out of the bed. No matter how much he tried, he simply couldn’t sleep with so little room. It wasn’t so much the crowded bed – when you had such lovely
‘This is fine,’ Regis lied gamely, and prodded a piece of rather soggy fish experimentally. Hillary went back for the wine and poured out two large glasses.
‘So how’s Vice?’
‘Busy,’ Regis grunted. ‘With the summer comes the grockles, and you know what comes with them.’
Hillary grinned. ‘Grockles’ was Regis’s favourite word for tourists, and she did, indeed, know what came with them. More prostitutes, more drug dealers, more illegal gambling. All the things that were Vice’s bread and butter.
‘And you?’ He looked up over his plate, his eyes softening on her as she sprawled tiredly in her chair. Her hair was mussed and clung to her cheeks, making him want to push it gently away. Her big, doe-like brown eyes that had always made his heart beat just a bit faster, looked strained and yet eager.
‘Got a new murder case today,’ she said simply, and he nodded knowingly.
‘Ah.’ That explained it. ‘You’re getting quite a rep for them.’
Hillary shrugged. It was her Chief Super, Marcus Donleavy, she suspected, who’d been responsible for her being in charge of so many murder inquiries. And Mel Mallow, of course, her oldest friend, who, as Danvers’s immediate superior, was in charge of who was assigned to what.
‘So, what’s it all about?’ Regis asked, staring suspiciously at a tomato. He prodded it and it rolled obligingly across the plate.
‘Young guy, bit of a Casanova. Found dead in a meadow with a red paper heart weighted on his chest.’
‘Blimey.’
‘That’s what I thought. A bit over the top. Already his girlfriend and her father might be in the frame, and I’ve got the feeling that before long, we’re only going to add to their number.’ Briefly she outlined her day. ‘So I expect we’ll be up to our eyeball in female suspects once we know the extent of his list of clients.’
Regis smiled. ‘Bit of a change from your last case then. As I recall, you were struggling to find even one person with a motive.’
Hillary sighed and sipped her wine. She bit half-heartedly into a lettuce leaf, thinking of cod and chips. The bread thoughwas nice, especially lathered with naughty butter. Arare indulgence , but she’d bought a half-pound on impulse and was now glad that she had.
Outside, the evening light slowly died and the stars came out. She cleared and washed the dinner things, putting them away neatly before opening all the windows to let in a cool, evening breeze.
‘Are you staying?’ she asked softly.
‘Do you want me to?’ he asked, almost diffidently.
She frowned. ‘Of course. Why? Don’t you want to stay?’
‘Don’t talk daft, woman,’ he growled, and let her lead him to the bedroom, a tiny cabin with a single bed that could pull out to make an almost three-quarter bed. He watched her undress with lazy-lidded eyes, and when she was finished, took a step back into the corridor to do the same. To attempt to strip in the tiny space would have had him scraping his elbows and bumping his knees and toes – and who knew what other protruding bits – into the walls or furniture.
Hillary giggled as he got naked into bed beside her, then gave a muffled yelp of laughter as she turned to face him and he nearly fell out the other side. ‘Come here,’ she said helpfully , pulling him on top of her.
It was nearly four in the morning when Regis finally admitted defeat and slipped out of the bed. No matter how much he tried, he simply couldn’t sleep with so little room. It wasn’t so much the crowded bed – when you had such lovely
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