'Leave it.' He ran a finger over his smarting face and looked at the blood.
'Top cop, are you?'
'Not really.'
'Got to be Jake Carpenter's bird, hasn't she, the blonde? Wasn't he on trial?'
He confirmed it with a murmur.
'Guilty, then?'
'As hell.'
'She's marked you. You could do her for assault.'
'No chance.' He'd been onto a loser the moment she attacked. Really, he had only himself to blame, leaving the court unaccompanied like that. If he nicked her, she'd use it as a publicity stunt, a chance to go over the trial again. And her counsel would plead extenuating circumstances and she'd get off with a caution.
'So where shall I put you down?'
They were heading south, towards the river. He was in no shape now to join the celebration in the pub.
'Bath. I'm going home.'
2
'You'll tell me if it hurts, won't you?' Stephanie Diamond was dabbing her husband's scratched face with TCP. 'Is that painful?'
Without thinking, he started to shake his head, and felt the full pressure of the swab. 'Jee-eez!'
She drew it away. 'Sorry, love.'
'My fault.' Mortified for being such a wimp, he said, 'Iodine's the stuff that hurts. They always used that when I was a kid. Wicked. Why, I couldn't tell you.'
Steph waited, swab in hand. She was still in her work clothes, a white jumper with a magnolia design on the front and a close-fitting black skirt. She moved closer again and rested her free hand on his shoulder. 'These are deep. She must be a vicious woman.'
'Just angry.'
'She's marked you with all four fingernails. Do you think I should take a photo?'
'Whatever for?'
'Evidence.'
He grinned. 'Like when someone runs into the car, you mean?' Patiently, he explained that he wouldn't be charging the woman, and why.
Steph, with her strong sense of right and wrong, didn't appreciate the explanation. 'She shouldn't get away with it.'
He was basking in her concern, even though it had to be cooled. 'She believed he was innocent. I expect he told her he was fitted up and she believed him.'
'That doesn't excuse it.'
'It means she acted out of genuine outrage, not just spite.'
Steph sighed. 'Well, the scratches are genuine enough. They're going to be on your face for some time. What are you going to tell people - that I did it?'
He smiled at the idea, and felt his cheek sting when the muscles stretched. 'Would you rather I said it was one of my many mistresses?'
'Do you want a scar on the other cheek? I could match them up, no problem.'
'Okay. I'll think of something better.'
'I could mask it with a concealer-stick if you like.'
'A what?'
'Make-up.'
'I don't think make-up would play too well at the nick.'
Later the same evening, after supper, the rich aroma of beef casserole lingered. Diamond, in his favourite armchair, warmed by the cat at full stretch across his lap, was thinking life was improving. Then Steph asked, 'What exactly did he do?'
'Who?'
'Jake Carpenter. All you've told me is that he's a well-known criminal.'
'And he is.'
'But you haven't said anything about the case.'
'True.' He made it obvious he didn't intend saying much.
'Is it as bad as that? You don't usually shield me from the facts.'
