‘Of course. If I remember correctly, I argued against including it.’
‘You did. You said the first two were down to us, whereas the third was out of our hands. That luck should never be considered alongside what we brought to the table.’
‘And I still believe that to be true.’ Bishop sniffed and stood upright. ‘I won’t sit by and wait for fortune to decide our case.’
Bliss wagged a finger at him. ‘And like I said back then: you’re missing the point. You don’t wait for a lucky break; you work twice as hard to force it out into the open. Afterwards you can look back and admire all the hard work that went into a successful investigation, but in my experience you should never rule out a stroke of good fortune turning things your way when you least expect it.’
Thirty-Three
The team had commandeered a section of the canteen and were sitting together enjoying their lunch. Ansari and Hunt both ate food they had brought in from home, while the others each tucked into an all-day full English. Fuel was important; Bliss always recommended to others that they take regular pit-stops, while forgetting to do so himself more often than not. Investigations had a habit of stopping all the clocks for him, turning his world inside out to the point where he’d barely know what day it was, let alone what time.
Having the unit together without the need to discuss ongoing caseloads was good for morale, and Bliss was pleased to see DS Bishop continuing the tradition. After-work drinks were a great way of blowing off steam, but people had home lives to get on with, too. Food and drink mixed with laughter midway through a shift was fast becoming the only point in the working day they all looked forward to.
Inevitably, the conversation turned once again to Belmarsh and the various merits or otherwise of the semi-naked Bliss and Chandler. The pair swapped insults, but when she claimed to still be as ‘fit as fuck’, Bliss had reluctantly agreed. ‘She’d make the Thorpe Wood swimsuit calendar if we did one,’ he announced to the table in general, with an appreciative nod. ‘I mean, she’s no Christina Hendrix, but she has nothing to be ashamed of.’
Chandler gave a mock shudder. ‘Ooh, such glowing compliments. Be still my beating heart.’
‘Give me another crack at that in a year and I won’t have to suck my gut in,’ Bliss said, laughing. ‘I’m going to start helping Barry Griffin with his boxing coaching – hopefully we’ll get a bunch of kids in shape and give them some direction and self-respect. I realised I needed to do that myself if I wasn’t going to come off as a complete berk. That’s why I had that workout yesterday, only it almost killed me. Every muscle in my body ached like a bugger this morning. It took me ten minutes to get out of bed.’
‘Growing old is a bastard,’ Bishop said. ‘But it beats the alternative.’
There was no arguing with that. Meanwhile, Chandler was grinning at Bliss. Finally she said, ‘Poor you, with your man ache. But to prove my heart isn’t as hard as you suggested earlier, I’m going to do you a favour. A friend of mine is a physio who also gives deep tissue massages for a living. Thirty minutes with her and you’ll feel right as rain. If you like, I’ll give her a bell to see if she can slot you in later. She does lots of sporty types when they have muscle issues.’
Bliss thought about it. He hadn’t had a massage since his fighting days, but he could still remember how loose he’d felt afterwards, the tension kneaded out of his muscles by strong fingers. He agreed and nodded his thanks.
The conversation turned to a recent TV series featuring UK police; as usual, the team picked holes in the procedures that had been portrayed. Just as Bliss finished eating and had shoved his plate to one side, his personal phone rang. He took the call outside on the stairway.
‘Good to hear from you, Teddy,’ he said. ‘How are you doing?’ He still felt guilty over the beating Barr had received from Neil Watson, and had been wondering how to help the man out.
‘Better than I ought to be. Either I recover more quickly than I thought I did, or Watson’s punches and kicks were less brutal than they felt at the time. Anyway, no real damage done. Superficial cuts and bruises. I’m out and recuperating.’
‘That’s good to hear. Makes me feel a bit better.’
‘Yeah, you and me both. But it’s not why I’m calling. I thought I’d let you know that your man is currently having a drink with a lowlife by the name of George Moss.’
This took Bliss by surprise, and he was immediately concerned. ‘You’re still on Watson? Bloody hell, Teddy. I didn’t expect you to carry on following him, mate.’
‘Oh, this is for me, Jimmy. Before, it was business and I was on the clock. Now it’s personal.’
‘You watch yourself. One more hiding like that and you might not walk away from it.’
‘I was careless before. I’m on my game this time. So, Moss… what d’you reckon?’
‘I reckon I’m interested. He’s the piece of filth who gave Watson his alibi for the night that poor kid took his final beating.’
‘That’s the fella. You have to wonder why they’re meeting at this precise moment.’
Bliss gave it a moment to consider the implication. ‘Could be nothing more than a friendly drink – they are mates, after all. On the other hand, Watson might be feeling the pressure and warning his pal.’
‘You’ve not spoken to Moss yet, have you, Jimmy?’
‘I’ve not had that pleasure. No fixed abode, last I checked, so I couldn’t track him down.’
‘You in a position to take a break? If you get down here sharpish we could take one each when they leave.’
Bliss thought about it. He badly
