A loud bang startled him up again. Only he didn’t jump up in bed this time, just rolled over. Why couldn’t people let him sleep?
It was— he blinked at the sunlight streaming in through the windows. Morning already. So he had slept between the horrendous dream and this.
The sound of a fist slamming against something solid reached his ears again. Someone was at the door. Most likely his only single annoying pal who thought of herself as an older sister/mother. The combination of which spelt smother.
‘Fuck off, Cheryl.’
But sleeping here in the bedroom, his voice wouldn’t travel through two closed doors.
He spread his arms wide, groaned. Hell it was freezing.
In the first week of February, the Scottish weather had enough frost in it to stomp off a naked dick.
Joshua scrubbed at his eyes then examined his body. Apparently his member didn’t care about the cold. All was good in Joshua-land. Except maybe forced celibacy.
He groaned again, then rolled over to sit up.
On the floor, he saw the remainders of last night – his gym clothes scattered all over the floor.
Aye, his life was nothing dramatic. After a phenomenally quick divorce, he hadn’t met anyone. Being a cop and a detective sergeant with a shiny new warrant card meant he couldn’t drink his sorrows nor find a random person to spend the night with.
He couldn’t afford to mess up any more than he had.
So he’d found a better stress reliever: exercise.
At least instead of a beer belly, lifting weights had given him a six pack. Which would remain hidden under his detective suit.
The bang sounded again.
Joshua rubbed his eyes, then picked up the smartwatch he’d dropped on the floor last night. 7:30am. Aye, he had to be at work by 9am.
He pushed off the bed, his muscles protesting. It was just the side effect of exorcising your demons.
Joshua picked up his exercise shorts, but when the stench of dried sweat on dip-n-dry clothes hit his nostrils, he dropped the thing.
He should have a clean pair of trousers somewhere.
‘Joshua MacLeod. Open up or I’m coming in.’
Cheryl was the leech that never left you which meant she had seen him half naked. But damn if she’d see him in his birthday suit.
Joshua pulled out a black trouser from the back of his wardrobe and stuffed his legs in. The thing belonged to his old self, the one who didn’t even have a gym membership.
The trouser hung low on his hips, barely held up in place. It would have to do.
Joshua pushed through his bedroom door, when the snap of a lock sounded and the front door burst open.
DI Cheryl Spiers strode in with her pressed blue suit and tightly pulled back hair. Her ponytail swung behind her, eyes sharp when they found him. ‘Sesh! At least wear a shirt. It stinks in here.’
When a man walked in behind her, Joshua blinked. He had expected Cheryl to be alone. And if she did turn up with a guy, he hadn’t pictured it to be a rounded, grey-haired man with wrinkles on his frown lines.
A shirt smacked him in the face. It had to be the one he’d discarded a few nights ago after another intense gym session, because it reeked.
Joshua shoved his head through the shirt in time to catch the other man frown.
‘Who are you?’
Cheryl tilted her head. ‘That’s DCI Payne.’
This man?
DCI Payne smirked as if amused by the exchange, then stuck his hand out. ‘Nice to meet you, Sergeant. I suppose you’re newer than the ink on your warrant card.’
Joshua cleared his throat. No, he wasn’t the eejit who didn’t knew his own DCI. In fact, they’re division had just gone through an overhaul after what the previous DCI ‘Dickheadson’ had done. And Joshua was still getting used to the bosses they had replaced. Not that a DS came face to face with his DCI that often.
‘Hello, sir.’ Joshua shook the man’s hand. ‘Er… I could offer you coffee, but—’
‘I’m sure the milk’s curdled.’ Cheryl interrupted. ‘Why don’t you sit? I’ll see what I can whip up.’
Joshua narrowed his eyes but did as he was told. Gesturing for the DCI to take a seat, Joshua pulled a used pant from the floor and shoved it behind a cushion. Guess his house needed a clean up.
He’d reworn the hell out of his clothes too, judging by how Payne opened a window.
The man sat down at the edge of the sofa as if worried something would stain his trousers.
Joshua rested on the pillows, studying his DCI. ‘If I may be direct… are you paying all the detectives under you a visit? Sir.’
Payne grinned. ‘I can see why DI Spiers keeps you around.’
Cheryl arrived and thrust a mug into Joshua’s hands. ‘Black coffee. There was only one useable mug.’
So saying she pulled up a chair, picked up the gym bag on it, and dumped the thing on the floor before sitting down. ‘Joshua.’
At her grim face and lack of more rebukes, Joshua narrowed his eyes. Something was up. ‘What’s happened?’ Had they made a mistake in making him the Sergeant? Had he failed his tests?
Cheryl leaned her elbows on her knees in the universal gesture of, ‘We need to talk about stuff that’ll make you bawl your eyes out.’
‘Spill it.’ Joshua hissed. He was in no mood for polite refusals.
‘When was the last time you spoke to your mother?’
Joshua blinked. His mother? ‘What’s she got to do with my exams? Just tell me. Has there been a mistake?’
Payne grunted. ‘Sergeant, we aren’t here about your exams. Your place as a member of the CID is well deserved. We want to know when you last spoke to your mother.’
Joshua frowned, then scratched his head. ‘Er… Yesterday morning. She asked me to drop by for dinner today. Why? Did she set the neighbour’s Christmas decorations on fire? I told her they’d take it down by mid-March like every year.’
‘Joshua.’ Cheryl stood up from the chair and took a seat next to him. ‘I’m sorry to tell you this but… But… we found her this morning.’
Maybe it was the deep sleep he’d just woken up from, or the immediate denial that he didn’t piece it together right then. After all, he had learned this technique as par for the course, something he’d had to use even as a uniform wearing constable.
Cheryl took his hand in hers. ‘I’m sorry, Joshua, Mrs MacLeod is dead.’
Sale
