The Dead Dog Day (23 page)

He looked at his Breitling. Five o'clock. Might be a good time to ring Cora. He hit her speed dial number and she picked up almost immediately.

‘Hi! I was just thinking about you! What are you up to this chilly evening?'

‘Not a lot at the moment – Hugo's just rung though, bit of a boy's night out later so I thought I might go along. You?'

‘Oh, working – the usual! Up in Manchester, rubbish story … hang on – what? Now?'

He could hear an urgent voice in the background. A moment later she was back.

‘Oh, Benj, so sorry, I can't talk to you now, got to go and shoot an interview before the bloke gets on a plane. Look – have a great night, I'll talk to you tomorrow, OK? Love you.'

‘Love you too.' But she'd already hung up. Benjamin sighed. She was always so busy and distracted during the week. One of the things that he loved most about Cora was that she had a career so similar to his, which meant she understood his lifestyle so well … but it
would
be nice to see her a bit more often.

He went to the kitchen, made an espresso in the thousand-pound Gaggia machine he'd bought himself last Christmas, and drank it slowly, thinking about the boy's night out he'd gone on last week. As usual, women had approached him constantly through the evening – beautiful, sexy women, women he'd have taken home in a heartbeat in the days pre-Cora. And yes, he'd been tempted, a little – he was only human after all – but all he'd done this time was have a little flirt and a chat, before sending them on their way. And that was part of his job really, he mused – keeping the public happy was what a TV presenter was supposed to do.

‘Any future dealings with other women will be purely platonic,' he announced proudly to the Gaggia, which spurted a little frothy milk at him in reply.

‘I'm a one-woman man now.'

He wandered slowly around his apartment, straightening cushions and moving a vase a fraction to the left so it lined up perfectly with the ‘Hot Hunk of the Year' award he'd been presented with by a showbiz magazine a few months back. It was beautiful here, and he loved it, but it suddenly felt rather empty.

‘A woman's touch, that's what it needs. Somebody here when I get home, somebody to sleep with every night, wake up with every day,' he said softly. He pulled out his phone again and flicked through his photos to a shot of Cora. He'd taken it at the weekend just after she'd woken up. She was sitting up in bed, hair dishevelled, no make-up, clutching the duvet to her chest and grinning cheekily at him. She looked gorgeous. He smiled at her image for a moment then pulled himself together.

‘Christ, man, get a grip!' he shouted out loud, and laughing, headed for the wardrobe to find something to wear. He was finding himself reaching a whole new level of soppiness here – a boys' night out was probably just what he needed.

He opened the wardrobe and started flicking through his vast shirt collection, then paused as something on the closet floor caught his eye. He bent to pick it up. It was his passport. Weird, he thought. How did that get there? He travelled so much that he was absolutely religious about keeping his documents together for easy access when he needed them, automatically putting them in his box on the shelf behind the clothes rail every time he came back from a trip. He looked up at the shelf. The box was there, but it was slightly ajar, papers protruding from the opening. Benjamin frowned. He was almost certain he hadn't left it like that – he was tidy to the point of obsession. He felt a sudden little flicker of unease. Could somebody have been in here?

He walked quickly through the apartment again, scanning every room for anything else that might be out of place, but all seemed fine. Back in the bedroom, he sat down on the edge of the bed and thought for a moment. His cleaner was the only one with a key – well, apart from Cora of course, he'd given her one after their second or third date, happy for her to let herself in if he was ever delayed on a shoot. But he knew she'd never been here without his knowledge, and would certainly never go through his stuff, and the cleaner had always been under strict instructions never to open drawers or cupboards. He stared hard at the passport he was still clutching in his hand, then stood up and returned it to its box, closing the lid firmly. He was imagining it, he told himself. He'd obviously just been a bit careless when he was unpacking last time. Nothing to worry about. Being in love was obviously affecting him in more ways than one. And grinning again at the thought of his lovely new girlfriend, he finally selected a shirt and headed off for his boys' night out.

34

Friday 2
^nd
February

‘What the hell is wrong with her now?'

Cora nudged Sam and nodded across the newsroom to where Alice was huddled in a corner, dabbing her eyes with a tissue.

‘Honestly, what's wrong with everybody at the moment – if it's not Scott on the road, it's Alice in here!'

‘Oh – man trouble this time I think. She was seeing somebody for a while and he's dumped her. Don't blame him really, do you?'

‘No – I suppose not,' said Cora, but she instantly felt a little bit guilty. She knew how dreadful it was to be dumped. She watched Alice for a moment, and felt a pang of sympathy. Then she glimpsed the clock on the wall opposite and stood up.

‘Right, I'm off. Got a lovely girlie weekend planned with Nicole and Rosie, none of which I'll enjoy if I don't get home and get some sleep!'

‘Benjamin away again?'

‘Yep – flies off tonight for a few days canyoning in the Caribbean – Dominica, I think. I'm not even sure what canyoning is.'

‘Sounds very manly, whatever it is. Lucky git, it'll be hot there at this time of year too – he hasn't got a bad job, your boyfriend, has he?'

‘I know.' Cora sighed. ‘Wish I had a job like that. Froze my ass off out there this morning.'

She picked up her blue cashmere scarf from where she'd dumped it on Sam's desk earlier and started winding it round her neck, then paused as Alice approached, still sniffing.

‘Er – Sam? Is it OK if I leave now – I've finished everything I need to do and I'm, well, not feeling that great to be honest.'

‘That's – that's fine, Alice. You go,' said Sam, sounding slightly surprised. Cora looked on, amazed. Never before in all the time she'd worked with Alice could she recall her speaking to anyone with anything even verging on politeness. Had she had a personality transplant, or was she just so upset that she'd forgotten to be nasty? Cora took a deep breath and decided to say something.

‘Sorry to hear about what happened – with your boyfriend, Alice. I know what it's like, it's horrible.'

Alice looked sharply at Cora for a moment and then her eyes welled up again.

‘Thanks. Thanks Cora. It is, it's horrible. Men are horrible.'

‘Not all of them, Alice. Don't give them up entirely, eh?' Cora smiled and awkwardly patted the newsreader on the arm.

Alice gave her a watery smile. ‘I'll think about it. See you, Cora.'

And she turned and walked away. Sam, open-mouthed, nudged Cora so violently she nearly fell over.

‘What the buggering buggery happened there? She was … she was actually
civil
. Who is that, and what has she done with Alice Lomas?'

Cora shook her head, bemused. ‘Bizarre. Maybe she's actually human after all, underneath all that hair and boobs and bitchiness? Shame we don't see it more often really – I actually sort of warmed to her there for a second, she looked so – so sort of vulnerable, didn't she?'

‘Vulnerable my arse. The girl's a cow. Just after sympathy, I reckon. She'll be back to bitch mode by Monday, mark my words.' Sam decisively typed the last few words of the email she'd been writing and hit send.

‘You're probably right. OK – that's it, I'm out of here, definitely this time. Have a fab weekend.'

Cora bent and gave her friend a swift hug, then headed for the lifts, suddenly aware her tummy was rumbling. It was nearly 10 a.m. – past lunchtime really, she thought, seeing as she'd been up since four. She pushed her way through the revolving door at the front of TV Centre and hesitated. Left to the car park or right to the café?

A minute later she was pushing open the door of Media Café, the delectable aroma of strong coffee hitting her nostrils as she weaved her way between the closely packed tables to the counter. It was busy as always, windows steamed up as dozens of telly types and tourists sought refuge from the morning chill. Cora ordered a hot chocolate and a fat, moist slice of Dorset apple cake, then cast her gaze around looking for a spare table. She spotted one tucked away in the corner and, balancing her tray carefully, headed towards it. She was about to put her tray down when she heard her name.

‘Cora? I thought it was you!'

‘Oh – DCI Brad … I mean Adam … hello. Sorry, I didn't see you there.'

In an alcove at the back of the room, Adam Bradberry was sitting across the table from a small boy.

‘Come and join us? There's plenty of room.'

‘Er – yes, OK, why not?'

Awkwardly side-stepping a large man in a dusty raincoat, Cora shuffled her way over, dumped her food on the table, and sat down next to the child.

The little boy smiled shyly at her. ‘Hello. I'm Harry.'

‘Hello, Harry. I'm Cora. Very nice to meet you.' She looked at Adam and smiled.

Adam beamed at his son. ‘Cora's on the telly, Harry. And Daddy's been working with her a bit.'

Harry nodded solemnly then turned his attention to the enormous Danish pastry on his plate. Adam turned to Cora, who was slightly nervously sipping her drink. Why was she nervous? She had a boyfriend now, other men shouldn't have any effect on her at all. He was gorgeous though. Those eyes …

‘So – busy?' He interrupted her reverie.

‘Erm – yes, as always. So glad it's Friday – just needed a bit of sustenance before the long drive home. I live in Gloucestershire – lots of driving.'

‘Ah, I didn't realise that. Nice part of the world though?'

‘Yes, it's wonderful, I love it.' Cora broke off a small piece of cake and nibbled it. Yum. She was starving.

‘So …' She swallowed. ‘Day off for you? No breakthroughs in a certain high profile murder case?'

Adam sighed and shook his head. ‘Nope. One or two potential suspects still around but nothing concrete.'

He took a mouthful of black coffee. ‘And to answer your other question, yes, I actually have a day off, and on a Friday too, wonders will never cease. Harry's with me for a few days, which is brilliant, isn't it, mate?'

He patted his son's hand, and the little boy grinned up at him, green eyes crinkling, his entire lower face covered with sticky pastry. He took another huge bite and turned back to the Superman comic that was spread out in front of him.

‘He's very cute,' Cora said genuinely. She might not want children of her own, but she could still spot a good one.

‘Thanks – I think so. You got any plans to have any – with, er, Benjamin?'

Cora almost choked on her cake. She gulped down a mouthful of hot chocolate and coughed.

‘Gosh, well, first, it's a bit soon – we've only been seeing each other for a few weeks. And second – well, I actually don't want kids. Never have.'

Adam nodded, but looked slightly taken aback.

‘I like them though,' Cora added hastily. ‘Just don't want my own.' She smiled at Harry, who had stopped reading and was looking up at her intently.

‘They can be little monsters at times, to be fair. Although I wouldn't be without this particular little monster.' Adam ruffled Harry's hair, and he grimaced and buried himself in his comic again.

‘He does seem very good. Not every child of his age would behave this well in a café,' Cora commented.

‘Yep, he's alright is my Harry.' He leaned forward suddenly on the table, and the light scent of a delicious-smelling aftershave wafted across at Cora, making her stomach lurch slightly. For goodness' sake, she thought. You have a gorgeous boyfriend. Calm down. She took another bite of cake, trying not to stare at the policeman's amazing eyes.

‘So – tell me some telly tales, take my mind off work,' he said.

Cora laughed. ‘OK … let me think. Well, there was a time I nearly needed police help actually. Do you remember last summer when loads of rivers and canals all over the country were covered with duckweed – that thick green slimy stuff?'

‘Think so, yes. There was a bit of an epidemic, wasn't there?'

She nodded. ‘Well, all the news shows were covering it, with reporters just wandering along river banks and pointing at it. But of course Jeanette being Jeanette, that wasn't good enough. She made me
get in
to the vile stuff …'

Adam spluttered into his coffee. ‘Get
in
to the water? Wasn't that dangerous?'

‘Well, yes, as it turns out. I had a dry suit – two sizes two big, but that's beside the point – but no health and safety considerations at all. I didn't even know how deep the water was. So, as instructed, I hop in – it was revolting – and there's only a stupid shopping trolley in the bottom of the canal, and of course me being me I get my foot caught in it, and there I am, stuck fast.'

Adam was laughing out loud now, and Harry had completely abandoned his reading and was grinning with delight.

‘What happened next?' he asked excitedly.

‘Yes, what happened?' Adam urged. Two pairs of amused emerald eyes were glued to her.

‘Well – luckily for me, the cameraman had brought diving gear in case he needed any underwater shots. So he went down and freed me – took a good half an hour though. And all the time I'm trying to tread water in this disgusting green slime, with all the early morning joggers and dog walkers laughing at me …'