Taboo by Casey Hill Page B

good overall health. His regular workouts kept him toned and relatively slim and, Chinese takeaways aside, he ate fairly well.
    He exhaled deeply. Arthritis just didn’t bear thinking about – not at his age – not in a job like this.
    With no home life to speak of, the job was his world. Indeed, it was the only thing in which Chris felt he really excelled. Out on the streets, striving to retain some semblance of justice in a country he loved was the only time he felt truly alive.
    Even though these days he was finding it harder to be proud of his country with every violent death file that landed on his desk, any deterioration in his wellbeing, be it arthritis or otherwise, was not good. He ran a hand through his hair and sat back on the sofa, realizing that sooner or later he’d need to do something about it, or at least try to find out for sure what was wrong.
    There was no question of his going to the in-house physician – no way. Anything suspicious or out of the ordinary would directly go into his file and be a question mark on his next physical. He might even be dumped into a dead-end desk job. No, he’d have to go an alternative route, go somewhere he wasn’t known, or more importantly, where his occupation wasn’t known.
    He idly remembered reading an article in one of the lifestyle supplements of the Independent recently – a feature about a clinic on the Southside that did full-body medicals, like an MOT for people. They tested blood, diet, sight, hearing – the works. It might be worth a shot. At least if the clinic did discover something then he, and only he, would know about it. There would be no report or recommendations, no records sent to the force.
    The phone rang, startling him out of his reverie and, checking the display, Chris raised a smile.
    ‘Matt, how are things?’ he said. Matt Sheridan was his oldest friend and it had been a while since the two had been in touch, what with Chris’s heavy workload, and Matt’s busy career as a barrister. In addition, he and his wife Emma now had a 6-month-old baby, and to his shame Chris realized he hadn’t seen his little goddaughter Rachel since the christening a few weeks before.
    ‘Just checking in to see if you’re still alive,’ Matt greeted. While Chris couldn’t help feeling guilty about his lack of contact, he also knew that this wasn’t his friend’s intention.
    ‘Sorry to disappoint you, mate, but it’d take a very strong wind to push me over.’
    ‘Don’t I know it. Anyway, good to see you’re home early for a change. Quiet news day?’
    ‘I wish,’ Chris groaned. ‘Anyway, never mind me, how’s Emma? And Rachel – she must be huge by now.’
    ‘Yep, huge, getting more like her mother by the day actually and … ouch, Em, that was a compliment!’ he gasped. Chris deduced that his wife had given him a sharp dig in the ribs for that last comment. Not that Emma Sheridan had anything to worry about in that regard. With her tiny waist, petite frame and wide-eyed gamine face, Matt’s wife was a million miles from huge.
    ‘Tell her I said hello and I’ll pop over to see you all soon,’ Chris told him.
    ‘That’s why I’m calling actually … wait, hold on, Emma wants to talk to you.’ Matt lowered his voice conspiratorially, ‘Word of advice buddy, just before she says anything … if it were me I’d run a mile …’
    Chris smiled, used to this kind of good-natured banter between the couple. Emma came on the line. ‘Hi stranger! Are you doing anything this Sunday? We’re having some people over for dinner, nothing major just one or two close friends and—’
    ‘Ah, not again,’ he groaned, reading between the lines. ‘I told you – I don’t have time for that kind of thing at the moment.’
    ‘Chris, “that kind of thing” as you call it, isn’t something you should have to make time for,’ she chided. ‘It’s called having fun, and Anne Marie, my friend, she’s lovely. Really career orientated like