Page 9 of Between the Lies

‘Why aren’t you at work?’ Robert asked to draw Joshua’s attention back to him. His pal wore a black T-shirt and trousers with his cop boots.

Joshua consulted the massive black watch on his wrist. ‘It’s half eight in the morning. I just got off shift expecting you’d be making breakfast. But…’ He sniffed the air. ‘Shite, ye reek. It’s a wonder no one’s phoned in to report a dead body in here. You haven’t bothered showering in how long now?’

Not waiting for an answer, Joshua walked into the kitchen. ‘You haven’t even made coffee yet.’ The fridge opened, followed by several cabinet doors. Then the sound of wood smacking against wood filled the air – cabinets closing. ‘You have no food.’

Robert’s stomach growled, as if agreeing with Joshua’s statement. Robert rubbed a hand over it, unsure when he’d last eaten. He certainly hadn’t made himself a coffee in the last few weeks either.

Joshua stalked back out, a cloth bag in hand. ‘Come on – let’s get the messages.’

‘I have work.’

‘Do you remember spitting into Dickheadson’s face, then trying to deck him? That man’s a sadistic bastard. He’s going to make your job hell. And I’m sure Cheryl’s heard by now. If she walks in here and sees you like this, she’ll have my hide.’

His spat with Dickheadson was a blur. Robert only knew he’d accomplished one thing that evening – his letter of recommendation would now read ‘do not hire this man’. But he didn’t want to talk about it, so he said, ‘Scared of Cheryl, are we?’

‘Piss off! I’ve been looking out for your sorry arse for a fortnight now. She’s been nipping at me to come babysit you. I’ve given you space – a man cannae always cry over a pint of ice cream – but honest to God, if she finds out all you’ve eaten are the frozen leftovers she’s been sending you, you know she’ll blow up this fucking building.’

Robert waited for a beat, then Joshua heard his own words and grimaced. ‘Sorry. I didnae mean to say that. But you know what I meant. Cheryl’s like Mary Poppins mixed with that lot fromSupernaturalandMean Girls.’

That Robert agreed with. Cheryl Spiers was their pal but also the detective inspector who believed herself to be their elder sister of sorts – i.e. their bully.

Joshua sighed. ‘Go take a shower and then a nap. I’ll get some eggs and milk.’

‘Who are you? My ma?’ Robert asked.

Joshua rolled his eyes. ‘I’m trying to help.’

‘I’m not some charity case.’ Robert stuck his hands into his pockets.

‘Look, Robert…’ Joshua leaned in, so close Robert could see his pores. ‘You’ve lost your wife. It’s been three months. I understand you need time to recover. Need time to heal. We’re here for you.’

But that didn’t change the reality. Anne was just one of many women who went missing in the UK every year. The women neither he nor his colleagues could protect from predators. And then their grieving families had to deal with pricks like Dickheadson who swiped their file away to the ‘it-was-an-accident’ or cold-case pile.

Joshua placed a hand on Robert’s shoulder. ‘You need sleep. Listen to me. Cheryl’s at work, so she won’t be here anytime?—’

The buzzer sounded, signalling someone was downstairs wanting to come in. Robert usually ignored the buzzing – Joshua had a key, and no one else visited him.

The buzzer sounded again – this time it was one long stream of ‘pay attention to me!’

Robert and Joshua both looked at each other and groaned, ‘Cheryl.’

Robert hurried to the telecom and pressed the button to let Cheryl in. Joshua ran up to the windows and pulled the curtains open.

‘Open the window!’ Robert barked at Joshua as he hurried to his desk and flicked off the lamp. He was gathering up all the scattered papers when a knock sounded at his door.

Had she jogged up the stairs?

Joshua pulled the door open and called out a greeting.

‘There you are.’ Cheryl – her straight brown hair swinging in a high ponytail – rushed inside, arms loaded with containers. ‘I tried calling Josh, but he didn’t pick up. I made some lasagna and scones. Plus—’ Her sharp eyes – cop eyes – narrowed. She hadn’t made it to the rank of detective inspector without her sharp senses. Now she scrutinised Robert, plus his house, and read all his secrets.

Joshua took a step towards the door.

‘Stop right there.’ She pointed at Joshua then stalked towards the desk Robert stood at, dropped the containers of food, and snatched the papers he held. ‘What’s this?’

Robert didn’t answer, knowing it was a rhetorical question.

She flipped through the papers then, still clutching them, walked through to the kitchen. Again, cabinet doors slammed. ‘Joshua MacLeod, why is the pantry empty?’

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