The Gemini Effect, page 8
The SCI worked with other divisions and bureaus all the time, she’d been told. She might even get a chance to liaise with Eugene again down the line, on a case out there in the US of A! But not if she was tied down here, like Kiz seemed intent on doing to her.
Rosy parked up in the car park attached to her block of flats, before making her way round to the entrance. She let herself in with the code, nodding to the security guard in uniform that always patrolled the lobby, Bernard, before checking their box for mail. There were a couple of circulars and a letter from one of her relatives in Singapore. Kiz always forgot to grab the post when she got home from work herself, assuming she was back, that was. Which she more than likely was, because Kiz kept pretty regular office hours. It was Rosy who was always on call, ready to spring into action should she be needed at a crime scene overnight or early morning, like she’d had to rush off to last Saturday – having to raincheck the romantic day they’d planned to spend together, beginning with feeding the ducks in the park just opposite their apartments. Kiz had not been impressed.
“I’m really sorry, sweetheart. It’s urgent.”
“It’s always urgent,” Kiz had said, sitting up in bed and watching Rosy dress – before pulling up her knees and hugging them to herself. “When isn’t it urgent? I thought we might, you know? It’s been a while.”
“I’ll make it up to you,” Rosy promised, having no idea how she was going to do that – especially as she’d spent the next couple of days up to her armpits in blood and guts and other evidence from the Felicity Bailey murder, thinking about how life was short. And then had been asked to shoot off to the coast to see Deborah, try and persuade her to help, getting back in late but not offering any kind of explanation because, well, she couldn’t. Kiz had rolled over in bed, presenting her back to Rosy as she climbed in, too – before mumbling something she didn’t quite catch and didn’t know if she wanted to. It didn’t sound pleasant.
She’d had to say something to Kiz about all this in the end, though, at least about Deborah’s visit, because she was bound to make an appearance at the flat at some point. But she’d said it was basically a trip to see the old gang, catch up with a few friends she had in Norchester. That she’d be picking her up from the station.
Kiz had nodded again, said: “Right, yeah. Okay.” Like she didn’t believe a word of the cover story, because she didn’t. And because she wasn’t stupid. Not that she’d think something was going on with Deborah. Kiz had met the woman, knew she was as straight as a pole. No, it was a different kind of jealousy altogether, same as it was with her career.
Rosy reached her floor, then walked down the corridor to the door of her flat, opening it up. “Hey,” she called out. “You there, hon?” No answer. Rosy called out again, checking her watch. Definitely way past time Kiz would be home. She walked further in, calling out once more. For some reason she couldn’t quite explain, she began to panic a little.
Until Rosy wasn’t sure what she’d do without Kiz in her life…
“Kiz?” Her girlfriend was on the couch, just sitting there with her back to Rosy. She reached out her hand. “Kiz are you all r—”
The second her fingers made contact with Kiz’s shoulder, the woman jumped a mile. “Holy fuck!” she shouted, a bit more loudly than she probably would have done if she hadn’t had her earbuds in. She pulled one out now. “Rosy? Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!”
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart! I didn’t…” Rosy’s hands went to her mouth, her heart had skipped more than a beat that time – as had Kiz’s, probably.
“Wasn’t expecting you back yet. I was doing a calming meditation.” She looked down at the earpod, then back up at Rosy. “Bloody hell!” But then she couldn’t help chuckling.
Seconds later, Rosy was giggling as well. Sheer relief, more than anything. But it was the kind of laughter they’d shared when they first met, and many more times since. Rosy shook her head again, “I’m really sorry.”
“I…” Kiz shook hers too. “Figured you’d be off out with Deborah.”
“Er… It’s like I said, she’s here to catch up with people – not just me.” Apparently so, and Rosy was doing her best not to still sound pissed off about that. “She’s out with a mate tonight, actually. Another former colleague.” Not a lie. “So I thought I’d come back and we could have a nice evening in.” Totally a lie, but it got her a hug and a kiss, which she instantly felt guilty about. “Maybe make something together like we used to do, a chili or whatever?”
“Sounds good. Are you going to get called away again?”
Rosy knew she looked like a rabbit trapped in the headlights. “Not to my knowledge,” was all she could muster. “I’m all yours.”
Kiz smiled. “That’s great.”
That was all she’d been waiting for really, and Rosy felt like such a bitch. “Look, I know things have been a bit crazy the last few days.”
“Days?” said Kiz.
“All right, weeks. Months. I’m sorry.” There was that word again.
“Come on,” said Kiz, making the most of Rosy being at home with her tonight, leading her into the kitchen by the hand. There they made dinner, sat down and ate. The conversation flowed easily and freely and for a little while there, Rosy really thought they could avoid the subject. But just like she’d been waiting to spend some time with her, Kiz had also been waiting to talk again, about the future.
It wasn’t that Rosy didn’t want to settle down at some point, and she adored kids. Other people’s kids anyway. It was just that she didn’t know if that was what she wanted right now. Even a dog would have been a big commitment at this juncture. As Kiz had been saying something about options, like artificial insemination, adoption, Rosy had made a joke about having killed off all her goldfish when she little, which went down like a lead balloon.
“You’re not taking any of this seriously, are you?”
“Oh, believe me I am,” Rosy told her. “Just not tonight.” She’d taken Kiz by the hand then, pulling her up and kissing her mouth softly. God she was beautiful, and life was short. “I thought we might, you know? After all, it has been a while.”
Kiz was about to say something, but shut up and kissed her back.
Definitely one of the best ways of changing the subject, thought Rosy, still feeling a little guilty, though that was vanishing by the second.
And then they both headed off towards the bedroom and she didn’t feel guilty at all anymore.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Deborah shovelled more scrambled eggs onto her plate, then used the tongs to snag some of the crispier pieces of bacon. She was trying not to feel guilty about second helpings.
What a pig!
Because it was so nice to eat a breakfast that someone else had slaved over for a change. And she was really hungry, regardless of the fact she’d had a big dinner last night – her coffee with Clark having turned into a catch-up curry.
She’d listened as he told her all about his promotions, about working for the CID, inspired more than a little by her example.
“Me?” she’d asked.
“Yeah, of course! You had such a huge impact on my life and my career,” he informed her. “I don’t think you quite realise. You were an inspiration to a lot of us back then. It was a sad day when you left, gu—” Clark saw her watching him to make sure he got it right. “Deborah.” The young man grinned again. Except he wasn’t all that young anymore, not as old as her – or as old as she felt certainly – but old enough. Hairline receding, putting a bit of weight on, though it suited him. “Heading towards the big three-oh!” as Clark put it.
“Sod off! You wait till you’re past the big four-oh, mate,” she said with a snort.
“No! You don’t look a day over—”
Deborah pointed at him with her fork. “Choose your next words very carefully.”
Clark laughed himself. “You don’t look any different, honest.”
“Well played,” she told him.
“So, how’re you doing, bos… Deborah?”
“You’ll get there in the end, Clark. I also answer to Deb or Debs.”
“If you’re Deborah, then I’m definitely Robert, or Robbie – whichever you prefer.”
“Okay, Robbie… I like that name. Though I tell you, it’ll take some getting used to.”
“You’ll get there in the end,” he said with another chuckle.
She realised he was still waiting for an answer to his question. How was she doing? And she told him about her life now, about how the kids kept her busy. About her writing.
“No way, that’s you?” Clark whistled. “The girlfriend loves those books! Wait till I tell her I know you.”
Deborah held up a hand. “It’s kind of a secret, Robbie. For now, anyway.”
“Right, gotcha. I can keep a secret, I’ll just be vague about it.”
Then she realised what he’d just said. “Wait, girlfriend?” Not that she’d thought anything of all this: the coffee; the curry. Just old friends having a natter, no more to it than her and Rosy; the fact that when she’d last seen him he’d looked about twelve helped. Maybe that’s why the girlfriend thing had surprised her so much.
“Yeah, Helen. Haven’t known her all that long, but, well, she’s something pretty special, I reckon.”
“That’s… Robbie, that’s so nice. I’m really pleased for you. But, just a tip that’ll help moving forwards, whether she likes my books or not, I probably wouldn’t be telling her you were out on a date with an older woman.”
He looked shocked at that, panicked even, and she couldn’t help roaring with laughter – and not long after that, he was too. It was nice, felt like the first normal thing to happen to her in days. She didn’t even mind when he brought up the inevitable subject of why she was here, not that he hadn’t guessed already. He was CID, was bound to know about Felicity, about the new Gemini killer. “I mean, I just assumed when I saw you fraternizing with the enemy,” he said.
“Oh, is that what I was doing?”
Clark gave a small titter. “I’m just joking; he’s all right is Glover. But some of the others aren’t too happy about the way him and his mob just butted their way in. They do that a lot apparently.”
“Hmm, can’t say I’m too impressed myself,” she admitted.
He gave a shrug. “Whatever works, I guess. And they do have an excellent track record for putting the bad guys away. Hopefully that’s what’ll happen here. Especially now you’re on board, too.”
Deborah held up her hands. “Whoa, I’m just an observer. Rosy seems to think it’ll help, my being here. I’m not so sure.”
“It’ll definitely help, gu— Debs.” He went quiet for a moment or two, looking down at the remains of his tikka. “Do you ever think about it? You know, being down in those cells?” Clark looked up then. It was the most serious she’d seen him all evening.
“I try not to. That’s what I say to people, anyway. But yeah, of course I do.”
Her dining partner nodded. “I still miss him. Peel.”
“Yeah, you’re bound to. You guys were really close.”
Another nod. This was why it felt so right to be out with Clark, with Robbie – why she’d said yes in the first place. Not just to hack Rosy off, and she still didn’t really know why she’d done that. Hadn’t been her fault Glover had called her… that name. Hadn’t been his really, and she felt guilty about the way she’d handled it – would say sorry herself to both of them tomorrow. No, the real reason she was here having this meal was they’d shared something that nobody else on earth could possibly understand. They’d been there in those underground cells, had witnessed the end of The Gemini. And the more time she spent here, the more time around people like Rosy and Clark, the more she was starting to remember.
They’d saved each other. The only ones who had walked away from that confrontation. Some people hadn’t been as ‘lucky’. Jack, Peel. An officer with his whole life ahead of him, he’d probably be right up there with Clark by now, a DS too. She’d been the one who’d roped them into this, ordered them down there as backup. It was her fault when all was said and done, just another thing to feel guilty about.
“That bastard Mason,” Robbie said shaking his head, naming the real person who was to blame.
“Yeah, I know,” said Deborah and reached over for his hand. Held it for a few moments before saying, “Definitely don’t tell Helen about this.” They both laughed again and she squeezed his hand tighter.
After arguing about who was paying for the bill, and agreeing to split it, they’d found themselves outside and she’d found herself saying: “I don’t know if I said this to you back then, but thank you, Robbie.”
“What for?”
“Well, for my life. My boys’ lives. If it hadn’t been for you—”
“I did nothing but get my arse handed to me,” he said sadly. “You’re the real hero.”
“Naw,” she replied. “That was Jack.” She’d cried then, and Clark had held her, and she’d put her head on his shoulder. But strangely she felt better afterwards.
Then he’d given her a lift back, as promised.
Back to another place she’d known in a different life. Back to The Imperial Hotel. It still looked pretty much the same from the outside: tall, with an air of majesty. Standing firm against the elements, against time. But inside she noted, as Clark carried her case in for her – always polite, ever the gentleman – through the pillars and revolving door, the hotel had had work. Didn’t she remember something about it being taken over by a major chain? Not a lot that could be done structurally, but a lick of paint and new furniture had worked wonders for the place. Spruced up, Wendy Harrison would have called it.
“Thanks Robbie,” she’d said again to him in the foyer, “for everything.”
“My pleasure.”
Deborah had given him another peck on the cheek, watching him turn a deep shade of red once again before saying goodnight. Then she’d wandered over to the reception desk and rung the bell. A man who looked sort of familiar, and more than a bit worse for wear like he hadn’t slept in months, appeared through the door behind the desk. His name-badge bore the legend ‘RALPH’.
“Hello, and welcome to The Imperial,” he said, in a kind of kill me now voice. The kind of voice that said he’d worked here a long time and it had taken its toll. He made a half-hearted attempt at smiling, but looked thoroughly miserable. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Hi, yes. I’ve got a room booked under the name Harrison.”
The man consulted the computer on the side of the desk. “Harrison… Harrison… Here we are.” Was it her imagination or were his words slowing down even more, as he became increasingly bored repeating actions he’d probably done a million times? “You requested a specific room.”
“That’s right. 307, if it’s available.”
Ralph nodded, and even that was in slow motion. “It is. Do you know how long you’ll be staying with us, Miss Harrison?”
“I-I’m playing it by ear,” she told him, then went into her handbag and fished out her purse for the credit card he’d requested. She was disappointed when he handed over a card in return, rather than the actual keys this place used to use.
“Do enjoy your stay,” Ralph told her as she turned towards the lifts; thankfully enclosed rather than glass.
She doubted that very much. As she was about to walk off, she spun back around, the lifts having reminded her of something. “Er, Ralph?”
“Yes?” he replied.
“How long have you worked here?”
He gaped, obviously not used to guests taking such an interest. Then he gave her a look that said ‘too bloody long’, as she’d suspected. “Why do you…?”
Deborah jabbed a finger over towards the empty lifts. “There used to be someone who worked here, worked on the lifts. Albert.” She remembered that man fondly, a man who’d helped Jack – even driven him to save a life when The Gemini had targeted a priest, so Jack had told her afterwards. Lovely fella, but he’d had to have been in his seventies or eighties even back then.
Ralph smiled again, only this time it was warmer, more genuine. “That’s right. Albert. It was a sad day when he went.” The second time she’d heard that in as many hours.
“He… he passed away then?” she asked, fearing the worst.
“Oh no,” said Ralph with a shake of the head. “He’s… he’s not dead. Just retired. Alive and well, last I heard.”
Deborah let out the breath she’d been holding. Along with Clark’s promotion, that was another piece of good news. Probably the only good news there’d been in the last week. “Excellent, thanks.”
“Pops in occasionally,” Ralph went on. “I think he misses it. Between you and me, they got rid of his post so he didn’t have a choice in things, otherwise he’d probably still be around.” He said that last bit like he couldn’t really understand why you would be if you had a choice in the matter, but then added: “This place was his life.”
“Yeah,” said Deborah, looking up and around in the foyer. She knew exactly how the old man felt. She hadn’t spent as much time here as Albert – or even Ralph, though he probably hadn’t wished to – but her entire life had changed because of the night she’d spent in The Imperial.
The night she’d spent in the very room she was heading to, 307.
And it was funny, because as soon as she walked in she’d felt it – in spite of the fact the room had changed more than a little, too. Even as she’d unpacked, got ready for bed, she’d felt closer to Jack than she had in so long. Hadn’t seen him, but as she’d climbed into bed finally, she’d almost felt him beside her. Could imagine his arms around her, especially as she recalled that time they’d spent in this space together. The time they’d created James and Jack.
She’d slept more soundly last night than she had in a good while as well, even dreaming about being with Jack, making love again, holding him. Being held. She’d woken early but rested, and the first thing she’d done was ring her mum, checking to see if everything was okay – because it had been a bit late by the time she arrived here.
