Hope to Die

When Ev gets back to the station almost everyone’s gone for the day. Bradley Carter’s still at his desk scanning CCTV footage, but other than that the office is empty. No Fawley, no Quinn, no Gis.

Bugger it, she thinks, I’m just going to call it quits on time for once. She dumps her paperwork on her desk and heads for the Ladies, only to half collide with Chloe Sargent coming out. She has trainers on and sports gear under her padded jacket.

‘Hi,’ she says, smiling, ‘I was wondering if you were coming back.’

Ev pulls a face. ‘I don’t know why I did. But I’m not going to hang around.’

‘Off out?’ asks Chloe.

‘No, just a hot date with Hector. My cat,’ she finishes quickly, seeing Chloe raise an eyebrow. ‘He’s marginally less trouble than a bloke. But only marginally.’

Chloe laughs. ‘I bet.’

‘What about you – gym?’

‘Ah, no,’ she says, gesturing at the racquet bag which Ev hadn’t spotted till now. ‘I’m playing tennis tonight. Better to take out my frustrations hitting a ball than anything – or anyone – else.’

She slides her eyes in Carter’s direction and they exchange a knowing smile.

‘So you play indoors? I mean – it’s dark already –’

‘Have to,’ says Chloe, ‘with this game.’

She sees Ev looking confused. ‘Sorry, I should have said – it’s real tennis.’

Ev’s eyes widen. ‘Blimey, I had no idea you could play that here.’

‘Yeah, I’m really lucky – there’s a court on Merton Street. I’ve been learning for about a year. It takes some getting used to – like a cross between ordinary tennis and squash.’ She hesitates. ‘Why don’t you come? It’s quite fun to watch, and we can walk to it easily from here.’

Ev’s turn to hesitate; she’d been wondering whether to go up to the JR to see Somer tonight, but you can hardly call that ‘fun’. She’s not even sure she’s doing any good – or if Somer actually wants people turning up and forcing her to make conversation.

‘We could have a drink at the Bear after?’ ventures Chloe. ‘Or Quod if you want to go fancy.’

Ev laughs. ‘Now you’re talking.’

* * *

When Ev gets to the office the following morning she’s one of the last there. She doesn’t usually go out on work nights and she’s paying for it now, but she had a bloody good time and she’s glad she went. The tennis was like nothing she’s ever seen before and, frankly, not for the faint-hearted. Chloe’s playing partner was a tall, striking-looking New Zealander with the face of a seraph and the devil of a backhand – the heavy little ball was flying everywhere, pinging off every hard surface, and (as Ev found out to her cost) sending it careering straight into the spectators’ gallery turned out to be one of the easier ways to rack up points, which made her wish she’d brought her riot shield. She got hopelessly lost trying to work out the rules, and had no idea who won in the end (Sarah, as it happens, though apparently it was close), but it didn’t matter, and afterwards the three of them went for fish and chips and a bottle of Prosecco, and all in all it was the best time Ev has had in ages.

Chloe’s already at her desk, and gives her a broad smile as Ev dumps her bag and starts to take off her coat. ‘OK?’

Ev grins. ‘Nothing a black coffee and a couple of paracetamol couldn’t fix.’

‘Has Hector forgiven you?’

Ev’s grin widens. ‘He’s reporting me to the RSPCA as we speak, but then again, he does that on a daily basis. In fact, pretty much every time I fail to give him prawns.’

Chloe laughs. ‘I’m coming back as a cat – no, correction, I’m coming back as your cat.’

Carter looks up and makes a face. ‘Christ, you haven’t got a cat, have you? I can’t stand the bloody things. They just look down their noses at me and scarper if I go anywhere near them.’

Ev suppresses a smile and turns to Chloe, dropping her voice so only she can hear. ‘Hate to tell you this, Bradley my old mate, but it isn’t just the cats.’

* * *

Adam Fawley

26 October

09.37

There was a broken-down lorry on Headington Road and tailbacks all the way back to the A40 roundabout, so I’m already in a less than perfect mood by the time I get in, and finding Bradley Carter waiting at my door with his laptop in one hand, looking for all the world like school prefect, doesn’t exactly improve my humour. Whatever it is, he should be taking it to Quinn or Gis, not me.

‘Oh, sir, there you are –’

‘What is it, Carter?’

‘I think I’ve found something, sir – something that could be important –’

‘Have you spoken to DS Quinn about it? He’s the Receiving DS.’

He hesitates, slides a glance down the corridor. ‘Yes, I know, but I’m not sure where he is –’

That’s a lie for a start – I just saw Quinn myself, heading towards the Gents.

Carter’s gone red now. He might as well have an arrow over his head saying ‘Busted’. But I suppose I should be encouraging him if he’s taking the initiative. And if he’s finding it bumpy getting on with Quinn, I shouldn’t be surprised: they’re both far too pushy – and too alike – to rub along easily.

I shunt open the door and wave him in. ‘OK, let’s hear it.’