‘That sounds like a great idea. Cheers!’ They clinked glasses again and then Jack leant forward, brushing a loose curl from her face as he leant knowingly toward her. For a split second she thought he was going to kiss her, but the moment was broken as a large guffaw from Spence caused Jack to sit back in his chair awkwardly.
Embarrassed, Maya started chatting away about anything and everything, painfully aware that she was rambling on and punctuating the awkwardness with a nervous snorting laugh. With only a quarter of his pint left, Jack excused himself, announcing that he would nip to the toilet before they left for the restaurant. Maya busied herself with her phone again, her back still to the bar, so there was no reason to engage with Spence again. She swallowed the last of her wine as Jack returned to the table, stuffing something into his pocket.
‘Are you ready?’ He smiled sweetly as he held out his hand.
‘Yeah, sure.’ She smiled back, feeling more composed. She took his hand and they headed towards the door.
‘Hey mate,’ called Spence just as they were about to leave. Both Jack and Maya turned to look at him. Jack had a bemused look on his face whereas Maya was fizzing with frustration. What did he want now?
‘Yeah?’
‘Just checking you got the condom machine working. It’s been sticking a bit lately. I wanted to make sure you’d not lost any money.’
‘Erm, no. It’s fine. Thanks,’ Jack mumbled.
‘Good luck with – how did you put it – riding her like her motorbike?’
As the door of The Eagle pub banged shut, Maya could hear Spencer James’s guffaw following them out on the street.
‘Care to explain,’ she said tersely. DI Mitton’s warning echoed in her mind.
‘Hey, you were the one who said we should make a night of it,’ he replied defensively.
‘I meant this,’ she gestured wildly towards the pub, ‘a few drinks and a meal. Not bumping uglies with someone I’ve only known for nine hours.’ Maya snatched the packet of fruit-flavoured condoms protruding from his trouser pocket and flung it at him.
‘Maya,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t be like that. You can’t blame me. You must know how beautiful you are…’ He leant towards her and began to run a hand through her hair. She pulled away. She hated it when people touched her hair uninvited. She winced with pain when she realised his watch had caught.
‘Ow! Oh, for fuck’s sake, Jack.’ She pulled at her curls, determined to detach herself from him, ripping out several hairs as she stepped back.
‘Oh, shit. I really am genuinely sorry.’ He fumbled as he plucked the ripped-out hairs from his watch strap. ‘Let me make it up to you. What would you say to going for another drink and starting again?’
‘That I’d really rather not. That truth be known, if your penis was as big as your ego then maybe you’d have something going for you. As it is, you’re not even that good-looking and you’ve got all the charisma and appeal of a turd that won’t flush.’
Turning on her heel, Maya stormed home, leaving him floundering and speechless on the pavement.
22
Days after Maya’s television debut courtesy of Dave Wainwright, DI Redford called an urgent meeting with Alison Mitton. As one of the lead officers involved in Operation Chrysalis, DC Stevenson was already seated in Redford’s office. It was the first time she had seen him look his age. He was red-eyed and pale. DI Mitton announced her arrival by knocking on Redford’s door.
‘Alison, come in. Take a seat.’
She acknowledged Stevenson with a smile. ‘What’s so urgent, Phil? I was due at the morning meeting to discuss the progress of the McCluskey stabbing.’ Alison’s face was a mask of concern. Not only did Stevenson look like shit, but Redford didn’t look his usual composed and immaculate self either. His tie was crooked, and he looked generally flustered.
‘It’s related to the stabbing. It involves Operation Chrysalis. Things have gone tits up while you’ve been on rest days.’
‘With regards to what?’
‘You mean with regards to whom. Aiden Donnelly was released yesterday.’
Alison’s mouth dropped open; shaking her head and blinking quickly, she sat back into the chair. ‘How the fuck did that happen?’
‘Sean, do you want to explain? I’m still trying to get my head around it.’
‘Yes, boss.’ Stevenson leant forward on his forearms looking incredibly subdued.
‘Remember Ryan Johnson, ma’am? He provided us with information about Nowak and Donnelly, claiming they’d put pressure on him to store firearms for them? Well, not only has he retracted this statement, but he has also admitted that the firearm and ammunition seized from the raid at The Farmhouse belonged to him. He’s made a statement claiming that he planted them there deliberately to set Donnelly up.’
‘What? No chance. No fucking chance. He’s lying,’ Alison blustered. ‘They’ve got to him and are pressurising him into saying all this shit.’
‘Exactly,’ said Redford. ‘Carry on, Sean.’
‘After the raid, we got authority to fast-track the firearms and the ammunition for examination. Forensically, we have nothing to link that firearm to any other incidents. Not only that, no forensic evidence has come back to Donnelly or Nowak, but Johnson’s fingerprints were found all over the packaging.’
‘Okay, so the firearm is a new acquisition. Obtaining guns is what they do. Donnelly and Nowak are too forensically aware to leave their prints anywhere. Johnson’s fingerprints are bound to be on the packaging because he told us they’d made him store it.’ She was indignant with frustration.
‘We know, Alison, we know. As usual it’s out of our hands. Donnelly’s brief presented the CPS with this latest evidence. They reviewed it and subsequently issued a Notice of Discontinuance. The CPS contacted us about it while
