Flynn scowled at Henry, but instantly changed his expression to pleasant when Alison looked at him. ‘I’m just here helping out a poorly mate,’ he said, then frowned. ‘So… you two?’ He pointed at them, his finger rocking back and forth.
Alison’s face softened proudly. ‘Yes — us two.’
Flynn wasn’t the best of men to read lovey-dovey body language, but he couldn’t help it in this instance as it was clear that Henry and Alison were very much an item. What he didn’t understand was why they were so brazenly public about it. Flynn thought Henry was married.
‘Oh, right, nice one,’ he said quickly. To Henry he said, ‘What happened to you since I last saw you?’
‘Bumped into a door,’ Henry said shortly, no desire to enter into a discussion with Flynn about anything.
‘No he didn’t,’ Alison said, knowing full well the two men did not rub along nicely. ‘He’s been assaulted.’
‘Well, fancy that.’ Flynn stifled a laugh. ‘Can’t imagine anyone wanting to hit you.’
Henry held Flynn with a one-eyed stare, then said to Alison, ‘Time we were going.’
‘How long are you here for, Steve?’ Alison asked, ignoring him.
‘Not sure. Not long.’
‘If you get the chance, come out to the Owl. Have a meal and a drink and I’ll put you up for the night. All the bedrooms have been refurbished now. They’re really nice.’
‘And the bloodstains wiped up?’
A shadow crossed Alison’s face at the memories evoked by the remark. ‘Yes, they’ve gone,’ she said darkly, then bucked up. ‘Done wonders for trade, actually. Appeals to people’s dark side, I guess. Seeing where murders took place. Anyway… it’d be nice to have a catch-up.’ She placed a kiss on Flynn’s cheek and Flynn saw Henry’s bristling reaction to it, like a male lion being challenged by an upstart. So Flynn returned it with a kiss of his own and gave Henry a smug sideways grin.
Then, to add insult to injury, he said to Alison, ‘I’ll definitely come.’ He gave a quick wave, but Henry stopped him from going.
‘Quick word.’ He edged Flynn out of Alison’s earshot.
‘Is this a warning to steer clear of her?’
‘Not necessary… that woman you dragged out of the water?’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘Did you take anything from her?’
Flynn’s face hardened instantly, offended. ‘What are you suggesting?’
‘Did you take any property from her? I’m asking. I’m doing my job — remember?’
Open-mouthed, Flynn said, ‘Do you want the other side of your face to match up?’
‘Just answer the question… did you take anything from her?’
‘How dare you ask me that, Henry? Fuck off!’ He spun away and stalked through the sliding door of the main hospital entrance, furious that Henry had the nerve to ask the question.
Henry watched his back and muttered, ‘He doth protest too much.’
SIX
By the time Flynn re-entered earth’s atmosphere, having been flung fuming and furious into orbit by the insinuation of Henry Christie’s question, he had driven the Smart Car all the way back to Glasson Dock. He’d parked outside the chandlery and was halfway through a bar meal at the Victoria, which was accompanied by a very chilled pint of Stella Artois and a Glenfiddich chaser.
The food was good, simple and filling. The lager was excellent, the whisky tremendous… the ideal combination to re-enter from the stratosphere without completely burning up.
It was only as he cleared his plate, sat back and started to sip his second pint and chaser did his emotional temperature start to fall.
Such was the effect Henry Christie had on him. Although Flynn had initially laid most of the blame on Henry for hastening his departure from the force and he had learned the truth of the matter later — that Henry had actually covered up a lot of the incriminating stuff he’d unearthed about Flynn — the damage to their relationship was pretty much done. They just didn’t like each other, never would.
The two men had come into contact a few times in recent years, in situations not compatible with endearing themselves to one another. It didn’t help that when they’d met up in Kendleton, Flynn had thought he’d had a chance at getting something together with Alison. Circumstances and geography dictated otherwise — not least that Alison did not fancy him — but to find Henry walking hand-in-hand with her, like two lurv-struck teenagers, really piqued him. That Henry knew he fancied his chances with Alison and was probably now having a ‘right good chuckle’ to himself, also made him seethe.
He sipped his beer and as he thought about things, he realized his problem went far beyond simple jealousy.
Yes, he was envious of Henry, but what really irked him was his own inability to find and keep someone for himself.
He had been in love once recently, the only time since his acrimonious divorce some years earlier. But it had ended in tragedy and he had been unable to pick up the pieces since.
Now he was starting to get worried about facing a future alone.
The big, rough, tough man of action wanted a serious relationship.
‘Diddums,’ he thought to himself.
What falling in love had taught him — after vowing never to do so after his divorce — was that it was wonderful, confusing, compelling — and something he needed. He thought he could handle being alone, indeed had done so for a few years, but now the prospect of hitting sixty and single frightened the crap out of him, more than swimming with a hammerhead shark.
Sixty was a long way away, but time flew, and you got old before you knew it.
‘Bastard,’ he hissed quietly into his beer. ‘How did he get someone like her? Wonder what his wife thinks about it?’
The beer went to his lips and half of it slid down his throat.
He glanced around the pub, which was moderately busy. A few couples and a few single oldish men propping up the bar. Flynn’s eyes paused on the couples, before tearing away and returning to the drink in front of him. He finished it in one fell swoop, then the chaser.
Actually, he reasoned, life wasn’t that bad. He enjoyed his life in Puerto Rico in Gran Canaria, had made some good friends, had regular sex with a few ‘no strings attached’ ladies, and had a great job he hoped he would do for the rest of his life. Skippering a sport-fishing boat was an awesome way to make a living and his plan was — eventually — to buy his own boat.
Lots of blokes would leap at the chance of leading his life.
Suddenly he felt better after his inner pep-talk.
He stood up, went to the bar, bought a couple of bottles of beer and went out into the night, which was cold and dark.
‘Boss, I thought you’d want to know — it’s definitely Sunderland’s wife,’ Ralph Barlow said. ‘Jennifer.’
Henry was sitting in the warm lounge of the owner’s living accommodation at the back of the Tawny Owl. On the journey across from Lancaster in Alison’s car, he’d got a call from Barlow but the signal had gone before they could talk — not uncommon out in the sticks — and he hadn’t been able to return it. He had called Barlow using the landline in the pub.
‘Thanks for that,’ Henry said.
‘He was pretty cut up about it. It must have hit him.’
‘Genuine?’ Henry asked.
‘Think so.’
‘What about a statement and interview?’
‘I’ve left it loose. Some time tomorrow.’
‘Might as well get the PM done first anyway. See if anything comes of that.’
‘Yeah, I thought that.’
‘Did you mention the robbery thing, the armed guys?’
‘You said not to.’
‘Yeah, I did, didn’t I?’
There was a slight pause as Henry’s brain ticked over whilst he mentally rechecked his list. Had everything been covered? Could everyone sleep tight tonight?
‘Boss?’
‘Just cogitating… anything on the two robbers yet?’
‘Not as such… but there could be some CCTV footage from the hospital cameras.’
‘Leave it for now, we’ll have a look tomorrow.’