To do what I want to do properly will take a lot of writing, so to keep the post a reasonable length this chapter is in two parts.
No answers and no Señor.
Chapter Thirty (part one)
Normally my alarm goes off at 6am, but the past couple of days had worn me out and either I forgot to set it or I slept straight through it, whichever, it was 8.30am when I finally roused myself to face the day. I padded into the kitchen to make coffee then sat in my pyjamas watching a morning chat show.. don’t judge me. Some opera group or other were being interviewed by a fawning female presenter, their smiles looked like someone had super glued them onto their faces. Poor sods.
One of them made a joke about being single and the presenter’s eyes lit up “Oooh so am I” she gushed.. the guy looked like he wished he’d kept his mouth shut.
My thoughts wandered from the TV show to the case. How could I find out exactly what, if anything, apart from photographs Tamara had on Seb without revealing my identity? I’d been lucky that night at McClain’s office, it had been complete mayhem and that was the only reason she hadn’t gotten a good look at me. My mobile phone beeped, interrupting my thoughts with a text message.
Long time no see handsome, how are you?
Now talk about fate. I smiled and hit the reply button. A short conversation followed and arrangements were made to meet up at 9.30am . I swallowed my coffee and padded into the bathroom. Better shave I thought, can’t go meeting a lady looking like this.. or maybe she likes stubble.. maybe she’s not that much of lady. You can always hope. I decided to make my mind up about both whilst I showered.
Inspector Simon Cowell
He’d spent the night at his desk again, his wife had long since given up any hope of him returning home every night after a days work like everyone else’s husband seemed to. Their version of domestic bliss stemmed from the fact that they never saw each other for weeks. The kids had also given up any hope of their father attending sports days or parents evening. Some of their friends thought that the couple had split up. Sometimes the kids wished they would.
Once upon a time his wife a thought he was having an affair, she’d followed him around for a whole fortnight, almost driving herself mad in the process. All she found – to her relief – was that the other woman in their marriage was his job. So she’d stuck a smile on her face, ignored the pointed remarks about his continuing absence, got herself a part time job and started to live some sort of life that didn’t involve him. It wasn’t easy but life never was.
He was awoken by the phone ringing, he stared at it , willing whoever it was to go away and let him wake up a little and maybe even get a coffee inside him before he’d allow them to ring back. Needless to say they didn’t.
“Cowell” he grunted. As soon as the caller said who they were and why they were calling he was all ears. When the conversation was over, he began thinking about how he should act on what he’d just been told. If he turned up on his own and it all went wrong, he could end up in all sorts of trouble but since this was all off the record he couldn’t take anyone from the station with him. Then an idea struck him. He could ask his wife to go with him. A female touch would definitely be an advantage she knew how to keep her mouth shut. Before he could change his mind he picked up the phone and dialled home.
She’d expected to be staying the night with him but at 2am he’d told her politely she had to leave. He’d propelled her out of the door with a “see you tomorrow” and closed it behind her. She was more than a little put out but he hadn’t been in the mood for argument or persuasion so she did as she was told. Making sure the coast was clear she set off back to her own room.
An hour or so later Urs was regretting his decision to make her leave. Sleep was evading him, every time he closed his eyes images of flutes, Smurfs, and those photographs danced around in his head.
Everything was going to hell in a handcart and there was nothing he could do to stop it.
He thumped his pillow in frustration and tried again to get comfortable to no avail. I should have just given them the bloody flute when they asked for it, at least then one of the problems would have been solved. He’d contact Miller tomorrow – or today whichever – and tell him to come get it.
That settled he started to doze off.
It didn’t last more than a couple of hours though before a nagging voice in his head began again “What about the photographs?”
“Seb’s the nearest thing to a friend you have”
“You could let The Señor handle it…”
He growled at the little voice and it shut up. He looked at the clock, 5.00am. Maybe he should go down to the gym. Maybe a workout would help clear his mind and a solution would present itself.
He swung out of bed and got dressed.
He got out of bed and made his way downstairs without putting the light on, he didn’t want to disturb his wife. She looked so peaceful and it was the first proper night sleep she’d had for such a long time. Unlike him. He couldn’t sleep at all, he was too angry.
Tamara Tamara Tamara her name went round and round his head in a never ending circle. Why. What could she possibly want from him? Apart from the money.. No way was this just about the money. There had to be more.. but what?
They’d had a fling before he met Raquel but he’d neither seen nor spoken to her that much since, especially now he and Raquel were married. He wasn’t interested in having an affair with her, he was more than happy with his wife.
Maybe a glass of something would help settle his mind and his temper. He shivered, realising he’d left his dressing gown upstairs. Ah well he smiled no one will see, all the curtains are drawn. He’d get his drink and go back to the warm bed.
Raquel had begged him to let Urs deal with the situation out but no way was he going to do that. All he’d asked Urs to do was find out who was responsible, he had never had any intention of letting anyone else deal with it after that.
His original plan had been to hire The Señor to take care of whoever was behind this little plot, but now he wasn’t sure.
Perhaps if he and I pay her a visit he mused, scare her enough to hand over the photos and anything else she may have and leave town forever. He considered paying her off but there was no guarantee she wouldn’t come back for more money.
He still had The Señor’s number. He’d call him at a more reasonable hour, when he would be unlikely to be sleeping or whatever it was he did at night. Seb didn’t really want to know the answer to that.
He jumped as a warm pair of hands ran across his shoulders and down his back. He set the drink down before he dropped it. Suddenly all his problems melted away. God he loved his wife.