James Sabine has been on the phone by making friends with the rest of the department. Or rather I have been made friends with. No effort has been required on my part. Various bods have just come up to me and introduced themselves. All rather jolly. And they seem to be really nice. Why I have got stuck with the Mr Grumpy out of all the Mr Men available I will never know.
I am happily swivelling in my swivel chair while James Sabine continues his phone conversation when a backside parks itself on my desk and a voice says, 'Hi, I'm Callum. You must be Holly.' He grins cheekily at me.
I grin back at him. Sometimes there is just something about people that makes you know you are going to like them. And I am going to like Callum.
'You know my name?' I say in surprise.
'The whole department has been talking about nothing else. It's caused quite a stir! The Chief and Robin have given us all a long lecture about this project.' He looks extremely grave.
'What about him? I don't think they lectured him.' 'Don't mind James.' He gestures with his head towards James Sabine. 'He's just being a grouchy bugger.' I grin widely at this.
'It's because he's getting married next month,' Callum says cheerfully and draws his finger across his throat, just as a ball of paper hits him squarely on the back of the head. 'Which newspaper do you work for?' 'The
Gazette
.'
Callum lowers his voice to an exaggerated whisper and leans towards me. 'He doesn't really like reporters, you know.'
I lean forward and whisper back, 'I know. Any suggestions?'
'Get on the nearest plane with me to Greece?' I eye James Sabine. 'Tempting, but unfortunately not possible.'
'Oh well, I'll ask you again in a week's time. You'll probably jump at the chance.' He gets up and says, 'Have a good day, Holly, see you later.'
As soon as James puts the phone down he gets up.
'Come on, we have to go. There's been a drug dieft at the local hospital.'
Oooooh. My first piece of action. Detective Sergeant Sabine is already walking off as I scramble after him.
We descend into the bowels of the building. Well, I say 'us'. James Sabine is marching a good ten steps ahead of me and I'm scrabbling after him like a disabled spider. Pesky black boots. Just as I think we're going to the canteen again in some bizarre quirk of fate, we take a quick left and emerge into what is an underground car park. James marches over to a little booth, claims some keys off the man inside and then walks over to a discreet grey saloon car. He has already started the engine and fastened his seatbelt as I climb into the passenger side.
'You're going to have to move faster than that, Ms Colshannon, if you don't want to miss anything. I will have no hesitation in leaving without you.'
'I wasn't aware I was missing anything and it's Miss Colshannon. I am not ashamed to be single,' I reply haughtily.
He raises his eyebrows and says, 'Ah,' in a tone that suggests my statement explains it all. I hunch my shoulders huffily, furious with myself for walking straight into that one. 'May I suggest a more appropriate form of footwear?' he says, looking at my beautiful, to-die-for but admittedly high black boots.
'I will make a point of digging out my trainers as soon as I get through my door this evening,' I say through gritted teeth.
The car emerges from the subterranean car park and into bright sunshine. I give Tristan a mournful look as we pass him in his space on the way out.
I look determinedly out of the window until it occurs to me that that's exactly what the marrow wants. So I get out my notebook, clear my throat pointedly, try to ensure my tone is at least civil and ask, 'So, what do detectives do? I mean specifically.'
'Anything, from rape to burglary to murder. Anything that needs detecting, as opposed to something uniform can take care of.'
'Uniform?'
'Yeah, the boys in blue, Miss Colshannon. As opposed to this.' He points down to his trousers. He is wearing a pair of beige chinos. My eyes rove
I am happily swivelling in my swivel chair while James Sabine continues his phone conversation when a backside parks itself on my desk and a voice says, 'Hi, I'm Callum. You must be Holly.' He grins cheekily at me.
I grin back at him. Sometimes there is just something about people that makes you know you are going to like them. And I am going to like Callum.
'You know my name?' I say in surprise.
'The whole department has been talking about nothing else. It's caused quite a stir! The Chief and Robin have given us all a long lecture about this project.' He looks extremely grave.
'What about him? I don't think they lectured him.' 'Don't mind James.' He gestures with his head towards James Sabine. 'He's just being a grouchy bugger.' I grin widely at this.
'It's because he's getting married next month,' Callum says cheerfully and draws his finger across his throat, just as a ball of paper hits him squarely on the back of the head. 'Which newspaper do you work for?' 'The
Gazette
.'
Callum lowers his voice to an exaggerated whisper and leans towards me. 'He doesn't really like reporters, you know.'
I lean forward and whisper back, 'I know. Any suggestions?'
'Get on the nearest plane with me to Greece?' I eye James Sabine. 'Tempting, but unfortunately not possible.'
'Oh well, I'll ask you again in a week's time. You'll probably jump at the chance.' He gets up and says, 'Have a good day, Holly, see you later.'
As soon as James puts the phone down he gets up.
'Come on, we have to go. There's been a drug dieft at the local hospital.'
Oooooh. My first piece of action. Detective Sergeant Sabine is already walking off as I scramble after him.
We descend into the bowels of the building. Well, I say 'us'. James Sabine is marching a good ten steps ahead of me and I'm scrabbling after him like a disabled spider. Pesky black boots. Just as I think we're going to the canteen again in some bizarre quirk of fate, we take a quick left and emerge into what is an underground car park. James marches over to a little booth, claims some keys off the man inside and then walks over to a discreet grey saloon car. He has already started the engine and fastened his seatbelt as I climb into the passenger side.
'You're going to have to move faster than that, Ms Colshannon, if you don't want to miss anything. I will have no hesitation in leaving without you.'
'I wasn't aware I was missing anything and it's Miss Colshannon. I am not ashamed to be single,' I reply haughtily.
He raises his eyebrows and says, 'Ah,' in a tone that suggests my statement explains it all. I hunch my shoulders huffily, furious with myself for walking straight into that one. 'May I suggest a more appropriate form of footwear?' he says, looking at my beautiful, to-die-for but admittedly high black boots.
'I will make a point of digging out my trainers as soon as I get through my door this evening,' I say through gritted teeth.
The car emerges from the subterranean car park and into bright sunshine. I give Tristan a mournful look as we pass him in his space on the way out.
I look determinedly out of the window until it occurs to me that that's exactly what the marrow wants. So I get out my notebook, clear my throat pointedly, try to ensure my tone is at least civil and ask, 'So, what do detectives do? I mean specifically.'
'Anything, from rape to burglary to murder. Anything that needs detecting, as opposed to something uniform can take care of.'
'Uniform?'
'Yeah, the boys in blue, Miss Colshannon. As opposed to this.' He points down to his trousers. He is wearing a pair of beige chinos. My eyes rove
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