Cambridge Blue - Alison Bruce [48]
‘Is that good, or bad?’ he asked.
‘Completely shit.’
‘Oh.’ He took a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry, but it’s not deliberate.’
She pressed one eyelid closed with her right thumb, determined to poke away anything resembling another tear. Her voice had an edge to it now. ‘Even if you were trying to do it, you probably couldn’t, so there’s no point feeling sorry, is there?’
He was lost now. No point saying no, just to be agreeable, but he could also see that asking her to explain what she meant wasn’t going to help either. He raised both hands from his sides and then dropped them again, a kind of pointless penguin-thinking-about-flying type gesture. ‘OK, then.’ He stood still for an awkward moment, then tried for a belated but dignified exit. ‘I’ll leave you to it.’
She nodded and he turned away, but her voice followed him and caught him when he’d barely taken his third step. ‘When I see you . . . around, I mean . . . you make me feel uncomfortable,’ she said.
He turned to look at her. ‘Sorry.’
‘It’s not your fault, but I thought you should know.’ She bit her bottom lip, then she added, ‘Sorry.’ too.
‘OK,’ he mumbled, then inexplicably, and without any trace of sarcasm, added, ‘Thanks.’ He felt pretty dumb.
He took the stairs to the third floor to wait for Marks, wondering as he climbed the steps when Mel had noticed his interest. How long had she been aware that he watched her arriving at work and leaving in the evening? And did she know he’d been disappointed when she started wearing an engagement ring?
Her boyfriend was called Toby Doyle, and he had two speeding convictions and one caution for being involved in a late-night disturbance. Apart from that, he’d never been in trouble, but his father and older brothers were well known for lashing out. Goodhew thought she deserved someone better, but kept telling himself it was none of his business. But he still watched the way she walked, loved the sound of her laugh, and made flimsy excuses to come and stand at her desk with his small talk.
He wondered when exactly he’d become that creepy guy from the third floor. As the whole picture sank in, pretty dumb escalated to really, really dumb. People never saw you in the same way as you saw yourself; he’d never seen himself as stalker material, but now he knew.
Up on the third, Kincaide was already seated at one of the desks, and spoke before Goodhew had even registered his presence. ‘You’re in early.’
‘So are you,’ he replied, and was pleased to have someone to take his thoughts away from his encounter with Mel. ‘What’s dragged you out of bed at this hour?’
Kincaide rolled his eyes. ‘Don’t ask.’
He wondered if that meant trouble at home but, considering Kin-caide’s well-known reticence where his marriage was concerned, he didn’t ask. Goodhew reminded himself of what was higher on the agenda.
‘Actually,’ he began, ‘I’ve been meaning to have a word.’
‘Oh?’
Goodhew hesitated and the words suddenly clogged inside his brain. In the end he just held out his hand, and said, ‘I’m pleased we’re working together.’
Kincaide shrugged. ‘Sure. Me too.’
‘I just wanted you to know.’
‘Good.’ Kincaide’s handshake was brief and hard, but he smiled. ‘So why are you here so soon?’
‘Oh, I need to see Marks. Think I might get a bollocking.’ He then explained his visits to Bryn O’Brien and Richard Moran.
Kincaide tried to look as if giving a positive response, but couldn’t quite pull it off without wincing. ‘I’d just tell him about this O’Brien guy – maybe you’ll get Brownie points for finding him – then shut up about the Morans and hope they don’t mention it either.’
Goodhew shook his head. ‘No, I’ll just get it over with. Like some coffee?’
‘No, thanks.’ Kincaide pointed over behind Goodhew. ‘Marks just walked past.’
Goodhew reached Marks’ office doorway before the inspector had even reached his chair. He sat down, but didn’t invite Goodhew to do the same.
‘If you have a minute, sir, I’d like a word.’
‘I’m sure you would.’ Marks tilted his head