Read Online No Mark Upon Her by Deborah Crombie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Deborah Crombie
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comfortable-looking mismatched furniture. There was no television in sight, and the pub was pleasantly busy for a weekday lunchtime.
He breathed a quiet sigh of relief, pleased with his choice. When they’d picked a table near the garden windows—Doug carefully avoiding the snogging sofa—and Melody was examining the menu on the blackboard above the fireplace, he studied her. Now that she’d taken off her coat, he tried to work out what seemed different about her since he had last seen her.
She’d abandoned her usual severely tailored suit, for one thing, and wore casual trousers with a cherry-colored cardigan that set off her dark hair and pale skin. Her hair looked a bit less sleekly tamed as well, but perhaps that was just the wind, or his imagination.
“Very gastro pub,” Melody said, but she seemed pleased. “And I’ve just realized I’m starving. I think I’ll have a burger. And after that, if I’ve the room, the Eton Mess.”
“That’s a summer pudding,” he said.
“Nevertheless, it’s on the menu, and I want it. I thought you were indulging me.”
“So I am.” Unable to concentrate on the menu, Doug opted for a ploughman’s. When he’d ordered the meals and half pints for them both at the bar, he carried the beer back to the table carefully, trying not to slosh it.
“Cheers.” Melody lifted her glass, and he clinked his against it. “To your new house.”
“And your new job.” He touched his glass to hers once more, then sipped. “So how is the job?”
“I’ve missed Gemma. But when the posting for Project Sapphire came up, it sounded interesting, and I’ve loved it.”
Just the idea of interviewing victims of sexual assault made Doug feel uncomfortable. “Isn’t it hard, talking to women about what’s happened to them?”
“Not only women,” she corrected. “Men, too, although it happens less often, and they’re more reluctant to file a report.” She paused, sipping a little more of her beer as the barmaid brought their cutlery, then continued, “And yes, of course it’s hard. But the fact that they’ve come forward is progress. And besides, I’m mostly working cold cases. I try to find matches between newly reported assaults and unsolved cases. When we get a result, it’s brilliant. We may be able to put away a guy who’s been preying on women for years.”
Their food arrived, and as Melody ate bites of her oozing hamburger with surprising delicacy, Doug wished he’d ordered something a bit less crumbly than the ploughman’s. The Cheddar and Stilton were delicious, the bread crusty and warm, but every time he took a bite he showered himself with crumbs.
Making a futile attempt to brush off his tie, he looked up and saw a glint of amusement in Melody’s eyes. Instead of bristling, he smiled back. “Can’t take me anywhere. Not that I expect to be going anywhere much,” he added, sobering. “They’re sticking me on Superintendent Slater’s team while Duncan’s on leave.”
“You don’t fancy him?”
“He doesn’t fancy Duncan, nor me by association. He’s a by-the-book kind of guy.”
“And you’re not?” Melody looked surprised.
“No, I’m bloody well not,” he said, instantly defensive.
She put down her knife and fork and frowned at him. “Doug, I’ve never seen such a stickler for the rules as you. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s part of what makes you good at your job.”
“That’s easy for you to say.” His tone was accusing, but he couldn’t call it back.
“I don’t make a habit of breaking rules,” she said sharply. “And when I have, I’ve regretted it. You know that.” The camaraderie between them had vanished like smoke. “And as for Duncan,” she added, “he may bend little rules now and again, but he doesn’t break the big ones.”
“So how do you know where to draw the line?” Doug asked, wanting to reestablish the connection he had so clumsily broken. “I’m not trying to take the mickey
He breathed a quiet sigh of relief, pleased with his choice. When they’d picked a table near the garden windows—Doug carefully avoiding the snogging sofa—and Melody was examining the menu on the blackboard above the fireplace, he studied her. Now that she’d taken off her coat, he tried to work out what seemed different about her since he had last seen her.
She’d abandoned her usual severely tailored suit, for one thing, and wore casual trousers with a cherry-colored cardigan that set off her dark hair and pale skin. Her hair looked a bit less sleekly tamed as well, but perhaps that was just the wind, or his imagination.
“Very gastro pub,” Melody said, but she seemed pleased. “And I’ve just realized I’m starving. I think I’ll have a burger. And after that, if I’ve the room, the Eton Mess.”
“That’s a summer pudding,” he said.
“Nevertheless, it’s on the menu, and I want it. I thought you were indulging me.”
“So I am.” Unable to concentrate on the menu, Doug opted for a ploughman’s. When he’d ordered the meals and half pints for them both at the bar, he carried the beer back to the table carefully, trying not to slosh it.
“Cheers.” Melody lifted her glass, and he clinked his against it. “To your new house.”
“And your new job.” He touched his glass to hers once more, then sipped. “So how is the job?”
“I’ve missed Gemma. But when the posting for Project Sapphire came up, it sounded interesting, and I’ve loved it.”
Just the idea of interviewing victims of sexual assault made Doug feel uncomfortable. “Isn’t it hard, talking to women about what’s happened to them?”
“Not only women,” she corrected. “Men, too, although it happens less often, and they’re more reluctant to file a report.” She paused, sipping a little more of her beer as the barmaid brought their cutlery, then continued, “And yes, of course it’s hard. But the fact that they’ve come forward is progress. And besides, I’m mostly working cold cases. I try to find matches between newly reported assaults and unsolved cases. When we get a result, it’s brilliant. We may be able to put away a guy who’s been preying on women for years.”
Their food arrived, and as Melody ate bites of her oozing hamburger with surprising delicacy, Doug wished he’d ordered something a bit less crumbly than the ploughman’s. The Cheddar and Stilton were delicious, the bread crusty and warm, but every time he took a bite he showered himself with crumbs.
Making a futile attempt to brush off his tie, he looked up and saw a glint of amusement in Melody’s eyes. Instead of bristling, he smiled back. “Can’t take me anywhere. Not that I expect to be going anywhere much,” he added, sobering. “They’re sticking me on Superintendent Slater’s team while Duncan’s on leave.”
“You don’t fancy him?”
“He doesn’t fancy Duncan, nor me by association. He’s a by-the-book kind of guy.”
“And you’re not?” Melody looked surprised.
“No, I’m bloody well not,” he said, instantly defensive.
She put down her knife and fork and frowned at him. “Doug, I’ve never seen such a stickler for the rules as you. There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s part of what makes you good at your job.”
“That’s easy for you to say.” His tone was accusing, but he couldn’t call it back.
“I don’t make a habit of breaking rules,” she said sharply. “And when I have, I’ve regretted it. You know that.” The camaraderie between them had vanished like smoke. “And as for Duncan,” she added, “he may bend little rules now and again, but he doesn’t break the big ones.”
“So how do you know where to draw the line?” Doug asked, wanting to reestablish the connection he had so clumsily broken. “I’m not trying to take the mickey
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