Page 8 of One Left Alive
He let out a small laugh. ‘Were you a pathologist as well as a paramedic before you joined the police?’
‘No, actually, I worked at the outdoor education centre at Lakeside.’ Morgan wanted the ground to swallow her whole, but she wasn’t going to stop asking questions because of a little teasing.
‘Well in that case we’ll leave cause of death to the experts, shall we? Her post-mortem is scheduled first thing in the morning. Hopefully by then we’ll have located her family and broken the sad news to them. I think Saul has taken the girls away. Whether it’s to visit family or friends that’s anybody’s guess. If not, you have my permission to go back and search the house again to see if you can find anything that might pertain to where they are. Is that okay with you?’
Morgan wanted to die, right now. She didn’t know if he was being sarcastic or genuinely nice. She got the impression it was the former. Nodding, she stood up. ‘Thank you.’
She left and went to the report writing room, where she logged on to the computer and began to update the log and fill out the forms she needed to, taking her time so she’d have to spend less time at the pub.
Four
The Black Dog was almost full; it was standing room only there were that many off-duty coppers milling around waiting to toast Mitch. Dan was at the bar ordering his fourth pint of lager. He carried it back to the table he was sitting at and squeezed into the tight space. It was loud and everyone was well on their way to being drunk. The door opened and in walked Morgan. He grinned and waved at her. She looked like a fish out of water, but she also looked cute. He hadn’t seen her out of uniform before. She was dressed from head to toe in black; the little shorts she was wearing over a pair of fishnet tights showed off the tattoos on her thighs and not for the first time he wished he could take a closer look at them. Her copper-coloured hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun and she had two perfect flicks of eyeliner. Not that he was an expert in make-up, but his last girlfriend used to spend more time trying to get her eyeliner right than anything else.
When Morgan finally got a large glass of white wine she walked over to where they were sitting. He squeezed up and patted the tiny space beside him. He was ready to be nice to her, give her a bit of a break since she’d had a rough day, but he saw the look which flashed across her eyes and a glint of anger sparked inside him. It was a look that said ‘Christ, is that the best I can hope for’ and it really upset him.
She squashed in next to him, their thighs touching. He didn’t speak to her. Instead he carried on telling some loud story about a job he’d gone to yesterday. Morgan sipped her wine, listening. He knew she was here because she felt she had to be; she wanted to fit in. She smiled and made polite conversation when directly asked a question. Half an hour later, when she hadn’t spoken a word to him, he brought the conversation around to this afternoon.
‘Hey, did you realise our little goth here, Morgan, was a super detective.’
He felt her squirm next to him; still, he carried on, encouraged by the laughter that filled the room.
‘Yep, been on the job five minutes and she was only telling that miserable git Ben Matthews how to do his job. Next, she’ll be telling the DCI how to run a case. It was hilarious, you should have seen his face.’
Morgan smiled at the jokes he was making about her and lifted the wine glass to her lips, downing the rest of it in one gulp. Neither she nor Dan noticed Ben walk into the bar. He was ordering a double JD and Coke for Mitch while listening to Dan’s little tale. The barman passed Ben the drink and he pushed it in Mitch’s direction, who saluted his thanks. Then Ben turned around. Dan was still loudly telling everyone about Morgan, who looked as if she was going to burst into tears. There was a bit of a scuffle as she pushed herself up and squeezed past the table full of men who were laughing loudly at her expense. She walked towards the door and Dan shouted after her.
‘Come back, Morgan, I’m only joking, you need to lighten up.’
She didn’t look over her shoulder; instead, she kept her head high as she pushed her way through the doors and into the car park.
Dan stood up, regretting being quite so mean to her in front of everyone. The grin which had filled his face turned into a thin line when he realised that Ben had heard the whole thing.
Ben strode towards him and knocked the table with his knee, sending drinks toppling to a chorus of loud shouts.
He pointed his finger at Dan’s chest. ‘Morgan was obviously too polite to say anything, but I’m not. You are a complete wanker.’ Ben, who towered over Dan, glared at him.
‘It’s just a bit of banter, nothing to get upset about.’
‘Banter my arse, you’re an idiot and you’d better apologise to her tomorrow or I’ll be filing a grievance on her behalf against you for bullying.’
The barman came rushing over. ‘Now then, lads, calm it down.’
Ben turned and left. Dan laughed, trying not to show how shaken he was. Ben was a much bigger guy than him; this could have ended up a lot worse.
Jonny, who was sitting next to him, ruffled his hair with his hand.
‘You could have lost your shiny, white front teeth then, Danny lad. Ben is a bit of an animal when he lets loose. Better watch your step around him, either that or apologise to them both.’
He shrugged. ‘No way, it was just a joke. If she’s so uptight she can’t take a bit of a laugh and he’s so quick to defend her, let them stew. I’m not apologising, pair of losers.’
Jonny laughed. ‘Your funeral, mate, Ben has friends in high places. It was funny though.’ He raised his glass to Dan, then downed the rest of his pint and stood up. ‘I have to go; my wife is on nights. See you tomorrow.’
Dan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He was wondering if he should also call it a night or whether to drown his sorrows, along with his stupidity. He had nothing and no one to go home to. He decided to order another pint and drink himself senseless.
Five
Morgan stood on the pavement, wondering whether to call a taxi or walk back to her flat. It was a good ten-minute walk and the boots she was wearing weren’t the comfiest. She set off walking along the main road. It was late but surprisingly quiet for a Friday night.
‘Morgan.’
