Authors: Kerry Wilkinson
There was a longer silence where no one dared say anything. Cole was staring at Jessica and she could see in his eyes that he didn’t want to be there. ‘What do you suggest we
do?’ he asked quietly.
‘We find out who he was working with.’
‘There’s nothing to stop us doing that. Forensics are looking into things but we can’t do anything else until those results come back. It’s just been
suggested
to me that if we release the information about Benjamin Sturgess to the media tonight or tomorrow . . .’
He didn’t finish the sentence but he didn’t have to. Jessica knew what he was implying. If the information was released it would give the public a nice impression of them to savour
over Christmas. Meanwhile, they could continue looking for whoever the second person might be. If they found out, great. If not, they already had a man to pin everything on – a dead person
who wouldn’t be able to refute anything.
‘Are you going to go along with this?’ Jessica asked, more aggressively than she meant to.
Cole spoke quietly but determinedly. ‘It’s not really up to me.’
‘In the press conference, are we at least going to tell the media we are still looking for a second person?’
Cole said nothing but she could tell by looking at him that the answer was ‘No’. It wasn’t as if they were appealing for witnesses because, so far, all they had to go on was an
unregistered phone number a text message had been sent to. Without anything specific to take to the public, it seemed someone higher up in the force had decided they would host a triumphant media
event and conveniently ignore the secondary evidence.
Jessica met the chief inspector’s eyes. She had known him for around a decade in total and been something close to a friend for some of those years. ‘At least tell people the
investigation isn’t closed,’ she said with a softer tone.
‘It’s not my call.’
‘But you’ll be there. You can say what you want.’
He spoke quietly but emphatically. ‘No.’
‘But—’ Jessica couldn’t finish before Cole spoke over her.
‘We’re finished here. Everyone go home and have a good Christmas.’
‘Sir, I . . .’
The chief inspector suddenly rose to his feet, sending his chair clattering into the wall behind him. Jessica had rarely seen him angry but his eyes were wide and glaring straight at her.
‘Don’t even think about talking about this externally.’
It was the most threatening thing Jessica had ever heard him say and utterly out of character. She knew he was referring to a journalist friend of hers, warning her not to leak the information.
‘I wasn’t going to—’
‘Out. Now. Everyone.’
For a second or two, nobody moved, stunned by the venom in the man’s usually calm voice. Everyone stood at the same time and moved quickly towards the door. Nobody spoke as they headed
down the stairs in unison towards the ground floor but together the four officers walked to the office Jessica shared with Cornish, even though she hadn’t asked them to.
Once inside, Reynolds closed the door. ‘Just be careful,’ he said firmly, looking directly at Jessica, who was sitting on the corner of her desk.
‘I was just saying what we were all thinking. Or should have been thinking.’ Jessica was feeling defensive but also a little shaken. She had never known Cole become so angry, whether
as chief inspector or in his old DI role.
‘Yes, but there are right ways to do things,’ Reynolds went on. ‘Don’t forget he’s getting it from all sides.’ Jessica shrugged, feeling uncomfortable.
‘Are you okay?’ he added.
‘Fine.’
The inspector weighed her up for a moment before responding. ‘Right, I’m heading off. Have a good Christmas and . . . don’t do anything
stupid
.’ Jessica knew he
was also referring to leaking information. Louise didn’t add anything except for a ‘Merry Christmas’ and left the room, leaving Rowlands and Jessica alone.
The two officers stared at each other before Dave finally cracked and burst out laughing. ‘That was hilarious,’ he said in between sniggers. ‘It was like being in church or
assembly at school and you’re just holding it in, desperately trying not to laugh.’
Jessica tried to remain serious but her friend’s laughter was infectious and she couldn’t help smiling. ‘I’m glad you find it funny.’
‘Oh, it was. For a moment I thought he’d actually swear. Everyone’s always going on about how calm he is. Imagine if he’d actually told you to f-off or
whatever.’
‘Do you remember that shit game you lot started playing a while back?’ Jessica asked.
‘The “trying to get the DCI to swear” game? Of course. It was my idea.’
‘No one managed it then?’
‘No, but I got close. I found this news article online about some agricultural argument thing in Somerset. The headline was, “Forking Hell”. I tried to get him to read it out
loud but he wasn’t having it.’
‘In other words, you forked up.’
It was such a bad pun that neither of them could resist laughing.
‘That was pathetic,’ Rowlands concluded when he had composed himself.
Jessica couldn’t deny that. ‘Are you busy on Christmas Eve?’ she asked.
He screwed his face up. ‘I don’t know. I’m probably going to be buying everyone’s presents.’
‘Seriously? I thought you’d finally grown up?’
‘Just joking. Chloe and me are spending the day together.’
‘Do you fancy coming to mine?’
‘What for?’
‘I’m cooking everyone Christmas Dinner a day early.’
Rowlands snorted. ‘No, seriously, what for?’
Jessica refused to take the bait. ‘Seriously. I’m cooking everyone dinner. Me, my mate Caroline, my boyfriend Adam, Hugo, plus you and Chloe if you’re up for it.’
Dave must have realised Jessica wasn’t joking as he stopped smiling. ‘Hugo’s going?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re seeing that Adam dude again?’
‘Yes.’
‘
You’re
cooking?’
‘Yes!’ Jessica almost shouted the final response.
‘But you don’t cook. The last time I was round, you burned a frozen pizza then ended up getting everyone to chip in for a takeaway.’
‘So what?’
‘Well, what are we having?’
‘A Christmas dinner. Roast potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, parsnips, turkey, gravy. You know, a Christmas dinner.’
Dave stared back at her clearly not knowing what to say before finally stumbling over a reply. ‘I don’t eat peas.’
‘Who doesn’t eat peas?’
‘I don’t. They’re all green and little and just
pea-y
.’
‘Whatever. I’ll leave them off your plate. Are you coming?’
The constable didn’t seem to know how to respond, finally throwing his hands up. ‘Fine. I’ll check with Chloe but it should be all right. We’ll be there.’
‘Brilliant. Three o’clock.’
‘Fine. There’s no way I’m going to miss this. I’ll make sure I’ve got the numbers “nine” and “nine” typed into my phone, then the minute you
set the kitchen on fire, I’ll press the other “nine”. Let’s just hope the fire brigade aren’t on another call.’
The exchange with Rowlands calmed Jessica to such a degree that she wasn’t fuming by the time she arrived at Adam’s house to pick him up. She parked on the road
outside and phoned him because she didn’t fancy getting out of the vehicle to ring the doorbell. He laughed at her laziness but soon emerged from the house carrying a small overnight bag
across his shoulder and a suit hanger in his hand, which he put on the back seat, then sat in the front.
‘What’s with the suit?’ Jessica asked, pulling away.
‘I figured if we’re staying at yours tonight and you’re cooking for Christmas tomorrow, it’d be nice to dress a bit smartly.’
‘Is this to guilt me into wearing a dress?’
Adam laughed. ‘You’re so suspicious all the time.’
‘It comes with the job.’
He chuckled again. ‘What’s the plan?’
‘We’ve got to go to the supermarket to get some bits for tomorrow. I called Caz earlier and she doesn’t mind sleeping on the sofa tonight. We’re going to clear all the
furniture to one side tomorrow, then pull the dining table out from the kitchen and eat in the living room.’
‘And you’re really cooking?’
Jessica sounded as indignant as she could. ‘Yes. Why does no one believe me? Caroline thought I was joking too.’
‘Maybe it’s because you don’t cook?’
‘I do.’
‘Pot noodles, beans on toast and heating up a poppadom to go with a takeaway curry isn’t cooking.’
‘What is it then?’
‘Heating food. You don’t cook, you heat.’
‘Well, thanks for your confidence.’
Jessica didn’t particularly feel aggrieved and was aware her friends had a point. She had no idea why she’d decided to do something completely out of the ordinary for her. Since
getting back together with Adam, she had made a pact of sorts with herself to stop being so stuck in her ways. The thought of cooking a large meal for herself and five of her closest friends was
terrifying but she resolved to go with it.
The supermarket was heaving with people who seemingly had a similar idea to Jessica about buying food before Christmas Eve. Children were running in all directions and stressed adults heaving
overflowing trolleys of alcohol and food up and down the aisles. Jessica could feel herself becoming frustrated by the lack of room to manoeuvre – and because a wheel on the back of the
trolley she had chosen didn’t seem to face the same direction as the other three. Adam said he was happy to push but that would have felt too much like giving in, so she continued to fight
against it, tolerating his gentle amusement.
After finding most of what they needed, Jessica was left looking for one final item. She stopped one of the female workers walking past. ‘Do you know where the flour is?’ she
asked.
‘Flowers? We sell bunches in the front, right where you walk in.’ The woman took two steps to walk away but Jessica managed to reply in time.
‘Not “flowers”, “flour”, as in the stuff you make cakes with.’
The worker spun around. ‘Oh right, “flour”.’ She pointed towards an aisle Jessica had already checked twice. ‘It’s that one, aisle twenty.’
‘I already looked there.’
‘It’s about three-quarters of the way down the aisle at the bottom.’ The person went to walk off but Jessica again stopped her.
‘Can you show me?’
‘Er yeah, I . . . okay.’ The woman started heading quickly past Jessica in the direction she had indicated.
Jessica struggled to rotate the trolley, finally managing to turn it just in time to see the woman entering the aisle.
‘Are you all right?’ Adam asked.
Without looking at him, Jessica knew he had a smug grin on his face. She ignored him, walking as briskly as she could before sliding to a stop and skidding around the corner into aisle twenty
herself. She was looking forward to the over-confident supermarket worker being proven wrong but felt her heart sink as she saw the woman pointing at a spot on the shelf she had definitely gone
past twice.
As Jessica approached, the worker was still pointing and sounded particularly cocky. ‘It’s just there, see. Aisle twenty.’
‘Thanks very much,’ Jessica replied through gritted teeth. The worker walked away and Adam crouched down to pick up a bag of flour.
‘Plain or self-raising?’ he asked.
‘It wouldn’t surprise me if the flour wasn’t here at all but that smug bitch just grabbed a few off the shelves somewhere else to make us look stupid,’ Jessica said.
‘We walked up and down here twice.’
Adam grinned up at her, repeating his question.
‘I don’t know, what’s the difference?’ Jessica asked.
‘One raises, the other doesn’t.’
‘All right, smart-arse. Which one should I use?’
‘You’re the chef.’
‘Fine. Get both and I’ll use half of each.’
Adam stood and put one of each type of flour in the trolley. ‘Are we done?’
‘Yes, if I spend any longer in here, I might just murder someone. Preferably one of those little shits who keep running up and down.’
Jessica did her best to wheel the trolley to the end of the aisle. As far as she could see, each checkout counter had at least two people in line. ‘We’ll use the self-service ones at
the bottom,’ she said to no one in particular, shunting the cart in and out of the queuing people until she reached the tills that allowed people to scan their own shopping.
‘Do you want me to scan?’ Adam asked.
‘No, I’m fine.’
Jessica was determined to retain some degree of control and started to swipe items, as Adam helped put them in bags. As they neared the end, she reached the alcohol they had bought. She scanned
the bottle of vodka and a message appeared on the screen warning she had to be over eighteen. Adam placed the bottle in a bag but it wouldn’t let her process any more items. Jessica looked up
to see a red light whirring above her head and a spotty-faced young man hurrying towards her. The closer he got, the younger he appeared until Jessica concluded he was definitely no older than
thirteen or fourteen.
‘Is everything okay?’ he asked in a high-pitched voice.
‘Just this vodka,’ Jessica said. ‘It’s checking our age.’
The man looked her up and down. ‘Have you got ID?’
Jessica squinted at him, wondering if he was playing with her. ‘ID?’
‘Yes, to prove your age.’
‘Are you joking?’
‘Er, no, we require ID.’ The worker pointed to a sign above the counter which mentioned something about having to look over twenty-one to buy alcohol.
‘Do you think I look under twenty-one?’ Jessica asked.
‘I, er . . . we require ID,’ the man repeated.
‘I don’t have ID. I’m thirty-four, for crying out loud. I’ve not been asked for ID since I was about fifteen.’
‘I understand that, Madam, but . . .’
‘Am I on camera or something? Is this going to be on TV?’ Jessica knew some people who might feel flattered at being asked to prove their age but she certainly wasn’t one of
them. She knew there was no way she looked under eighteen, it was just this pre-pubescent was trying to make life difficult for her.
Adam spoke up. ‘I’ve got ID if it helps, here.’ He reached forward to show the man his driving licence but the worker shook his head.