Fic: Death Stalks SW10 2/3
Apr. 16th, 2008 08:59 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
mylodonYou know the scene. Author Archie. First Hargreaves book. Another excerpt.
“You look as if you could do with a drink.” Inspector Hargreaves had finished in the court – Woodward had been found guilty and sent back to prison to await sentencing and now Alex could have a day or two to recuperate. The weekend loomed large and it was a welcome thought that he didn’t need to spend it worrying that somehow the man might escape on a technicality or woo the jury into thinking him innocent.
“I wouldn’t mind.” Vince Worsley ran his hands through his hair; he’d been in court to hear the defendant give evidence – much against his lawyer’s wishes, but Woodward had been determined to have his day in court and it had greatly strengthened the case for the prosecution. He’d as good as admitted his guilt without using the actual words and the fact that he had targeted a third victim – and that victim was Worsley – had come as a huge shock to both Vince and Alex. Hargreaves had sat through many a harrowing case in his time, but when Woodward had implied that he had Worsley in his sights, he’d felt physically sick.
They found a decent bar – far enough away from the court not to risk running into too many lawyers. By the time they were onto a second glass of wine they were on first name terms, Alex wanting not to hear the words ‘Inspector’ or ‘Mr Hargreaves’ again for a while. By the time they’d decided to take the District Line west and find a curry house they were laughing and joking like two old friends, which is how Alex thought of Vince anyway; as if he’d known him all his life, even though he hardly knew him at all.
By the time they’d pushed away the plates of chicken tikka masala and ordered coffee, Hargreaves had made his mind up to ask the other man to meet him for lunch. Or something, but he was pre-empted.
“Time for a night cap? You know my place is only around the corner.” Vince’s eyes were like a puppy’s, full of appeal, and even if Alex had wanted to say no – which he didn’t – he wouldn’t have had the heart. They decided on coffee as they walked the quarter if a mile or so to the flat; it was turning cold and they were perished by the time they’d got in. Hargreaves listened to the sound from the kitchen that spoke of cups and cafetieres. Parking himself by the lounge window, he watched the first drops of rain outlined against the street lights and heard the faint rattling of the old sash windows as the wind picked up.
“It’s starting to blow out there,” Worsley laid the cups on the little table and came over to look out at the evening. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the night turned filthy.”
If there was a double entendre in the remark, Alex couldn’t be certain. He could feel Vince’s breath against his neck, the distance between them a couple of inches; he leaned back so that his head touched Worsley’s face. The movement was rewarded by a tiny kiss to the nape of his neck and by a muscular pair of arms wrapping themselves around his stomach.
“They must have a hell of a gym down at MI5,” Hargreaves gently rubbed the arms that held him. “You’ve got more muscle on here than Henry Cooper in his prime.”
“Well, I don’t spend my whole life hunched over a hot desk full of gadgetry. Fat lot of use I’d be making something to use in the field if I wasn’t fit enough to try it out.” Vince began to giggle. “You’re not very good at the old chat up lines, are you? Henry Cooper – you could have at least compared me to Jamie Bamber.”
Alex had no idea who this Bamber man was but he wasn’t going to admit it. Yet. “I’ll have you know Our ‘Enry was my first pin up. I can’t think of a higher compliment.” They were both laughing now, cuddling and giggling and tickling. It was not the great romantic scene that Alex had envisaged but it didn’t matter. He was pretty certain that Vince Worsley was the one and they’d better get used to being like an old married couple because that’s what he wanted them to be.
“You look as if you could do with a drink.” Inspector Hargreaves had finished in the court – Woodward had been found guilty and sent back to prison to await sentencing and now Alex could have a day or two to recuperate. The weekend loomed large and it was a welcome thought that he didn’t need to spend it worrying that somehow the man might escape on a technicality or woo the jury into thinking him innocent.
“I wouldn’t mind.” Vince Worsley ran his hands through his hair; he’d been in court to hear the defendant give evidence – much against his lawyer’s wishes, but Woodward had been determined to have his day in court and it had greatly strengthened the case for the prosecution. He’d as good as admitted his guilt without using the actual words and the fact that he had targeted a third victim – and that victim was Worsley – had come as a huge shock to both Vince and Alex. Hargreaves had sat through many a harrowing case in his time, but when Woodward had implied that he had Worsley in his sights, he’d felt physically sick.
They found a decent bar – far enough away from the court not to risk running into too many lawyers. By the time they were onto a second glass of wine they were on first name terms, Alex wanting not to hear the words ‘Inspector’ or ‘Mr Hargreaves’ again for a while. By the time they’d decided to take the District Line west and find a curry house they were laughing and joking like two old friends, which is how Alex thought of Vince anyway; as if he’d known him all his life, even though he hardly knew him at all.
By the time they’d pushed away the plates of chicken tikka masala and ordered coffee, Hargreaves had made his mind up to ask the other man to meet him for lunch. Or something, but he was pre-empted.
“Time for a night cap? You know my place is only around the corner.” Vince’s eyes were like a puppy’s, full of appeal, and even if Alex had wanted to say no – which he didn’t – he wouldn’t have had the heart. They decided on coffee as they walked the quarter if a mile or so to the flat; it was turning cold and they were perished by the time they’d got in. Hargreaves listened to the sound from the kitchen that spoke of cups and cafetieres. Parking himself by the lounge window, he watched the first drops of rain outlined against the street lights and heard the faint rattling of the old sash windows as the wind picked up.
“It’s starting to blow out there,” Worsley laid the cups on the little table and came over to look out at the evening. “I wouldn’t be surprised if the night turned filthy.”
If there was a double entendre in the remark, Alex couldn’t be certain. He could feel Vince’s breath against his neck, the distance between them a couple of inches; he leaned back so that his head touched Worsley’s face. The movement was rewarded by a tiny kiss to the nape of his neck and by a muscular pair of arms wrapping themselves around his stomach.
“They must have a hell of a gym down at MI5,” Hargreaves gently rubbed the arms that held him. “You’ve got more muscle on here than Henry Cooper in his prime.”
“Well, I don’t spend my whole life hunched over a hot desk full of gadgetry. Fat lot of use I’d be making something to use in the field if I wasn’t fit enough to try it out.” Vince began to giggle. “You’re not very good at the old chat up lines, are you? Henry Cooper – you could have at least compared me to Jamie Bamber.”
Alex had no idea who this Bamber man was but he wasn’t going to admit it. Yet. “I’ll have you know Our ‘Enry was my first pin up. I can’t think of a higher compliment.” They were both laughing now, cuddling and giggling and tickling. It was not the great romantic scene that Alex had envisaged but it didn’t matter. He was pretty certain that Vince Worsley was the one and they’d better get used to being like an old married couple because that’s what he wanted them to be.
