Blood Red Roses by Lin Anderson

 
CHAPTER TWO
    Dr Rhona MacLeod looked up as the waiter sat a bottle of chilled white wine and two glasses on the table.
    â€˜I didn’t order ...’ she began.
    â€˜Compliments of the band.’
    It was after midnight and the crowds were thinning. DI Bill Wilson was still there, arms locked round Margaret his wife of thirty years, swaying to the haunting sounds of the saxophone. He was enjoying the remnants of his fiftieth birthday party. The police could throw a hell of a do when required. Even Bill’s boss had managed a five-minute appearance, to drink a glass of champagne, before he went off to dinner with someone more important.
    Rhona poured herself a glass of wine. The saxophone drew to the end of its piece, sendingshivers down her spine. She wasn’t a jazz fan. But tonight had almost changed her mind.
    â€˜Hey.’ Chrissy, her forensic assistant, appeared at her side, a young man by the hand. ‘We’re off.’ She raised an eyebrow at the wine and glasses.
    â€˜From the band,’ Rhona told her.
    Chrissy ran a practised eye over the men on stage.
    â€˜Hope it’s the saxophone player.’
    It was, but Rhona didn’t say.
    â€˜See you tomorrow then.’
    Rhona smiled back. ‘See you.’
    Chrissy pranced off, dazed young constable in tow. Rhona secretly wished him luck.
    The saxophonist thanked his audience in an Irish accent as though he meant it. He sat the saxophone on its stand, jumped from the stage and came towards her.
    â€˜Hi.’ His eyes were very blue. ‘I’m Sean. Can we talk?’
    They talked while the rest of the band packed up. Bill came to say goodbye. He looked happy, his arm round Margaret. Rhona was pleased he’d had a good time. Bill deserved the respect hiscolleagues paid him. He was a good guy and a good policeman. He complimented Sean on his performance and winked at Rhona.
    â€˜Come on,’ Margaret pulled him away. ‘It’s time I took you home, birthday boy.’
    Then they were alone apart from the barman, who handed Sean the keys.
    â€˜You lock up. I’m off.’
    â€˜I own a part share in the club,’ Sean explained as the door shut and silence fell.
    Rhona wondered how much of this was planned. How many women Sean had seduced with his blue eyes, Irish voice and saxophone. At this moment she didn’t care.
    â€˜There’s a tune I’d like you to hear.’
    He stood on stage, eyes closed, caressing the golden instrument. The sound was dark and sensual. Mood music.
    â€˜That was great,’ she said when he finished. ‘What’s it called?’
    â€˜
For You
.’
    She laughed at his cheeky grin. Irish charm. Who could beat it?
    They walked towards her flat, side by side, nottouching.
    Being alone had always been her choice. She loved her work, her flat, her life. If or when men came it was good but never permanent. She wondered if she would invite him up, already knowing she would. Between them was something inevitable, although probably short-lived.
    They didn’t speak as they climbed the stairs. She unlocked the door and they stepped inside. He undressed her in the hallway, so slowly she wanted to scream at him to hurry. His tongue flicked her lips until she opened her mouth to him.
    Her mobile rang, pulling her from sleep. She reached down, searching for her handbag, suddenly remembering. Sean was stretched out beside her, easy in sleep. She checked herself for regret and found none.
    She slipped out of bed and found her bag ringing in the hall.
    â€˜Rhona?’
    â€˜Bill.’
    â€˜Sorry to wake you.’
    â€˜What’s wrong?’
    â€˜I’m at the
Excalibur
pub near the Arches. Female body in the toilets.’
    â€˜I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.’
    She shook Sean awake.
    As she pulled on clothes, he told her he would wait for her to come back.
    She looked at him, puzzled.
    â€˜I make good coffee,’ he