“I have no idea what you two are doing here but thanks for your help,” Miller said. “You stopped him getting away.”
“Glad to be of assistance,” Tom responded smiling.
With hindsight Miller couldn’t believe how close Simpson had come to escaping. What the hell had made him get off the train? Perhaps having the train delayed set an alarm bell ringing. Whatever the reason, Miller recognized he should have been watching more closely. There would be no disguising that fact in his report. Questions would be asked but Miller wasn’t unduly bothered. Retirement was just around the corner. And nothing could take away the sense of satisfaction he was feeling. He was quite certain Brian Potter would be waiting to greet Simpson in the afterlife.
Miller laughed, “You are both deadly with a cup of coffee.”
“Years of training,” Tom retorted.
“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Melanie stressed, “but I am getting fed up of meeting you.”
Miller smiled. “I don’t blame you.”
“You know I used to think England was a far safer place to live compared with back home. Every time I see Gwyneth, she goes on about what a great place London is to bring up a family. It hasn’t seemed so great the last week!”
“I know what you mean,” Miller concurred. The last week had indeed been mad. Fortunately it wasn’t atypical. He liked Melanie Adams he decided and Ashdown was okay also. He had shown a lot of courage more than once. He wondered if they would make it long term as a couple. He hoped so.
He would have to get one of her films out on DVD. They weren’t the sort of thing he normally watched but he reckoned Mary would enjoy it and he was definitely curious now he knew her, to see her acting.
“Can I get you some more coffee,” Miller offered.
“Actually,” Tom cut in, “I don’t know about anyone else but I need something a lot stronger then coffee!”
“I’m sorry,” Miller apologized. “But you will have to make do with coffee for the time being. I need to get statements from both of you. It’s going to be another long night.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Tom was both excited and nervous about the day ahead. He had been looking forward to it for over a month and as it came closer so his excitement had built. But now as the plane landed in Miami, he was also extremely nervous. The flight had gone well and he had enjoyed his first experience of flying first class.
He had almost forgotten he was on a plane, as he sipped champagne and enjoyed great food, while the cabin crew attended to his every wish. He had spotted one of his favourite female singers sitting across the aisle and they had exchanged pleasantries. She was doing some serious damage to the free champagne but he was taking it far easier. He didn’t want to arrive with a hangover. He had a big weekend ahead of him. He laughed at the absurdity that he now found it almost routine to be meeting a famous singer. His life had certainly changed dramatically since meeting Melanie.
This was his first visit to anywhere in the USA except Las Vegas and then he had spent most of his time in a huge hotel playing poker, with little time for sightseeing. As he left the aircraft cabin and stood at the top of the aircraft steps, he was hit by the warm temperature of the air. It felt almost tropical and the brilliant sunshine made him blink to adjust to the brightness. It was February and he had left behind a cold and miserable UK. There had been a scary few days leading up to his departure when snow had disrupted flights, leading to many cancellations and threatening to spoil his trip but thankfully he had taken off on time.
Tom went through passport control and collected his one large bag, purchased new for the occasion. The whole process took nearly an hour and then he was walking out of arrivals. He glanced around trying to spot his lift, which he had been assured would be waiting to collect him and there was his name being held aloft on a board.
He waved at the man and walked towards him. The driver was wearing a grey suite and a peaked cap. He looked every bit the chauffeur. He asked if it had been a good flight and Tom happily accepted his offer to take charge of the large suitcase. He followed the driver to the car park as he pulled the case behind him. The driver asked if it was his first visit and was generally amenable.
“Are you on holiday or business, Sir,” the driver asked pleasantly.
“Definitely holiday. I’m here to see the Super Bowl.”
“You got tickets?” the driver enquired not hiding the surprise in his voice. “They’re like gold dust.”
“I have,” Tom answered. “A very good American friend of mine is taking me.”
They spoke a little more about the upcoming game during the drive to the hotel. The driver didn’t hide his jealousy when Tom admitted it would be the first ever game he had seen.
“Who you gonna be supporting?” the driver asked.
“The Steelers. My friend is a huge fan and she got me the tickets.”
“Well enjoy it. It don’t get much better than a Super Bowl.”
They stopped outside the St Regis hotel and a bell boy came to take his bag. The taxi had been prepaid and the driver waved away the suggestion of a tip as Tom reached for his wallet.
Tom was shown to his room. It had a balcony and a view out to sea. It reminded him of Melanie’s suite at the Imperial, where they had first met properly. What if he had done the sensible thing and taken the train back to Brighton and never bothered to hang around in that coffee shop, hoping she would return his call? He doubted he would
