Dead Tomorrow

raised her palms upwards and wiggled her fingers, indicating more was required.
    ‘And to the ends of any other universe that we might discover.’
    ‘Better still!’ She kissed him again.
    Then he stopped, feeling a sudden chill, wishing he had not started on that analogy. Sandy had been a fan of the Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy . He remembered her favourite being the second book in the series, called The Restaurant at the End of the Universe . Why the hell did her shadow have to keep falling over everything, darkening his happiest moments? It sometimes felt as if he was being stalked by a ghost.
    ‘You OK?’ Cleo said.
    ‘Very OK!’
    ‘Yousort of disappeared for a second.’
    ‘I was overwhelmed by your beauty.’
    She grinned again. ‘You’re such a good liar, aren’t you, Grace?’
    Grinning back, he said, ‘I wasn’t lying!’
    ‘You spend half your time interviewing criminals who are lying convincingly. Don’t tell me that hasn’t rubbed off on you!’
    He held her shoulders, firmly but gently, and stared into her eyes. ‘I would never lie to you,’ he said. ‘I would never want to lie to you.’
    ‘I feel the same way about you,’ she replied.
    They stood in comfortable silence for some moments. The kettle rumbled to the boil, then clicked off. Distracted for an instant, Roy looked past her, at an L-shaped row of chairs beside the cluttered desk. At the table in the corner, on which sat a small Christmas tree, covered in glitter and shiny balls. At the walls, which were even more cluttered than the desk, with framed certificates, a calendar, a photograph of Brighton Pier at sunset and a row of clipboards on hooks, containing details of all their current, hapless residents in the fridges. And at the Argus newspaper lying on a chair.
    Kevin Spinella’s piece on the finding of Unknown Male appeared on page five. It was a small column, pretty much reporting the facts as Grace had relayed them, with Grace’s appeal to the public. To his relief, Spinella had kept to his agreement not to mention anything about organs.
    There was a shrill ring at the door.
    Cleo glanced up at the CCTV monitor on the wall and said, ‘Your chum’s just arrived.’
    Grace turned to the screen and saw Glenn Branson’s face. He was not looking a particularly happy bunny.
    ‘I’llgo,’ he said.
    He walked down the short corridor, past the changing room, and pulled open the door. He was shocked by the sight that greeted him. He’d rarely seen Glenn looking anything other than immaculate. Now the Detective Sergeant stood in front of him, in the rain, looking a complete wreck. His tan shoes were sodden, his white shirt was spotted with dark marks, his silk tie was covered in blotches, and awry, and his cream mac was a patchwork of brown stains the colour of rust and oil, and what looked like shiny fish scales.
    ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Grace asked. ‘Kickboxing in an abattoir? Or mud-wrestling in a fish market?’
    ‘Very funny, old-timer. Next time you send me on a cruise, I’ll book the tickets myself.’
    Grace stepped back to let him in.
    ‘Nadiuska here yet?’ Branson asked.
    ‘She just phoned. She’s ten minutes away. I thought you said you were going home to change.’
    ‘Yeah, well, I did, didn’t I? Got back to your place and there were two sodding letters waiting for me.’
    ‘Feel free about redirecting your post there.’
    Branson looked at his friend, unsure for a moment whether he was being sarcastic or genuine. He could not tell and decided not to push his luck. ‘One was from Ari’s solicitor, all pompous, right? Telling me that she’s been instructed by Ari, who is commencing divorce proceedings, and that I should get myself a solicitor, like I just rode into town in the back of a lorry and don’t know anything about the law.’
    Grace shut the door behind him. ‘Sounds to me like you need to get one, PDQ.’
    ‘I’mahead of you. I got one already.’
    ‘Act for a lot of tramps, does he?’
    ‘Actually, it’s a she.’
    ‘Very wise. They can be a lot more brutal than men.’
    Glenn swayed suddenly and put his arm out on the wall to steady himself. For a moment Grace wondered if he was drunk.
    ‘The ground’s still swaying. I’ve been back on dry land for more than two hours and it’s still moving under me!’
    ‘So, your ancestors on the slave ship? Nautical life didn’t rub off on you? Not in your genes, then?’
    ‘Who told you about that slave ship