Common Murder. V. McDermid L.
You said you’d get her for me.’
Lindsay picked up the child and hugged her. ‘She’s just coming, I promise.’ Before she could put Cara down, the child called, ‘Mummy!’ and struggled out of Lindsay’s arms. Cara hurtled down the corridor and into the arms of Deborah who was walking towards them with Judith. Eventually, Deborah disentangled herself from Cara and came over to Lindsay. Wordlessly, they hugged each other.
Lindsay felt the old electricity surge through her, and pulled back from the embrace. She held Deborah at arms’ length. ‘Hi,’ she said.
Deborah smiled. ‘I didn’t plan a reunion like this,’ she said ruefully.
‘We’ll do the champagne and roses some other time,’ Lindsay replied.
‘Champagne and roses? My God, you’ve come up in the world. It used to be a half of bitter and a packet of hedgehog-flavoured crisps!’
They laughed as Judith, who had been keeping a discreet distance, approached and said, ‘Thanks for all your help, Lindsay. Now you’ll just have to pray Deborah doesn’t jump bail!’
‘No chance,’ said Deborah. ‘I wouldn’t dare. Lindsay’s motto used to be ‘don’t mess with the messer’, and I don’t expect that’s changed.
Lindsay smiled. ‘I’ve got even tougher,’ she said. ‘Come on, I’ll drop you off at the camp on my way back to London.’
They said goodbye to Judith and headed for the car park. Deborah said nonchalantly to Lindsay. ‘You can’t stay, then?’
Lindsay shook her head. ‘Sorry There’s nothing I’d rather do, but I’ve got to get back to London. I’m on the night shift tonight.’
‘You’ll come back soon, though, won’t you, Lin?’
Lindsay nodded. ‘Of course. Anyway, I’m not going just yet. I expect I can fit in a quick cup of coffee back at the van.’
They pushed through the doors of the courthouse and nearly crashed into two men standing immediately outside. The taller of the two had curly greying hair but his obvious good looks were ruined by a swollen and bruised nose and dark smudges beneath his eyes. He looked astonished to see Deborah, then said viciously, ‘So you’re breaking your bail conditions already, Miss Patterson. I could have you arrested for this, you know. And you wouldn’t get bail a second time.’
Furious, Lindsay pushed forward as Deborah picked up her daughter protectively. ‘Who the hell do you think you are?’ she demanded angrily.
‘Ask your friend,’ he sneered. ‘I’m not a vindictive man,’ he added. ‘I won’t report you to the police this time. When the Crown Court sentences you to prison, that will be enough to satisfy me.’
He shouldered his way between them, followed by the other man, who had the grace to look embarrassed.
Deborah stared after him. ‘In case you hadn’t guessed,’ she said, ‘that was Rupert Crabtree.’
Lindsay nodded. ‘I figured as much.’
‘One of these days,’ Deborah growled, ‘someone is going to put a stop to that bastard.’
3
The alarm clock went off at a quarter to six. Lindsay rolled on to her side, grunting ‘Drop dead, you bastard,’ at the voice-activated alarm Cordelia had bought her to replace the Mickey Mouse job she’d had since university. She curled into a ball and considered going back to sleep. The early Saturday morning start to her weekend at the peace camp that had seemed such a good idea the night before now felt very unappealing.
But as she hovered on the verge of dozing off, she was twitched into sudden wakefulness as Cordelia’s finger ends lightly traced a wavy line up her side. Cordelia snuggled into her and kissed the nape of her neck gently. Lindsay murmured her pleasure, and the kisses quickly turned into nibbles. Lindsay felt her flesh go to goose pimples; thoroughly aroused she twisted round and kissed her lover fiercely. Cordelia pulled away and said innocently, ‘I thought you had trouble waking up in the morning?’
‘If they could find an alarm clock that did what you do to me, there would be no problem,’ Lindsay growled softly as she started to stroke Cordelia’s nipples. Her right hand moved tentatively between Cordelia’s legs.
Cordelia clamped her thighs together, pinning Lindsay’s hand in place. ‘I’ve started so I’ll finish,’ she murmured, moving her own fingers unerringly to the warm, wet centre of Lindsay’s pleasure.
The feeling of relaxation that flooded through Lindsay afterwards was shattered by the alarm clock again. ‘Oh God,’ she groaned. ‘Is that the time?’
‘What’s your hurry?’ Cordelia asked softly.
‘I promised I’d be at Brownlow really early. There’s a big action planned for today,’ Lindsay replied sleepily.
‘Oh, for Christ’s sake, is that all you think about these days,’ Cordelia complained, pulling away from Lindsay. ‘I’m going for a bloody shower.’ She bounced out of bed before Lindsay could stop her.
‘I wasn’t finished with you,’ Lindsay called after her plaintively.
‘I’ll wait till your mind’s on what you’re doing, if it’s all the same to you,’ came the reply.
It was just after seven when Lindsay parked alongside the scruffy plastic benders. She had tried to make her peace with Cordelia, but it had been fruitless. Now Cordelia was on her way to spend the weekend with her parents, and Lindsay was keeping the promise she’d made to Deborah three weeks before. She parked her MG between a small but powerful Japanese motor bike and a 2CV plastered with anti-nuclear stickers. If they ever stopped making 2CVs, she mused, the anti-nuclear sticker makers would go out of business. She cut her engine and sat in silence for a moment.
It was a cool and misty March morning, and Lindsay marvelled at the quiet stillness that surrounded the encampment. The only sign of life was a thin trickle of smoke coming from the far side of the rough circle of branches and plastic. She got out of the car and strolled over to Deborah’s van. The curtains were drawn, but when Lindsay tried the door, she found it unlocked. In the gloom, she made out Deborah’s sleeping figure. Lindsay moved inside gingerly and crouched beside her. She kissed her ear gently and nearly fell over as Deborah instantly woke, eyes wide, starting up from the bed. ‘Jesus, you gave me a shock,’ she exploded softly.
‘A pleasant one, I hope.’
‘I can’t think of a nicer one,’ said Deborah, sitting up. She pulled Lindsay close and hugged her. ‘Put the kettle on, there’s a love,’ she said, climbing out of bed. She disappeared into the shower and toilet cubicle in the corner of the van, leaving Lindsay to deal with the gas rings.
Lindsay thought gratefully how easy it was to be with Deborah. There was never any fuss, never any pressure. It was always the same since they had first been together. They slipped so easily into a comfortable routine, as if the time between their meetings had been a matter of hours rather than months or weeks. Lindsay always felt at home with Deborah, whether it was in a Fordham courtroom or a camper van.
Deborah reappeared, washed and dressed, towelling her wavy brown shoulder-length hair vigorously. She threw the towel aside and settled down with a mug of coffee. She glanced at Lindsay, her blue eyes sparkling wickedly.
‘You picked the right weekend to be here,’ she remarked.
Lindsay leaned back in her seat. ‘Why so?’ she asked, ‘Jane told me it was just a routine blockade of the main gate.’
‘We’re going in. Through the wire. We think it should be possible to get to the bunkers if we go in between gates three and four. The security’s not that wonderful over there. I suppose any five-mile perimeter has to have its weak spots. The only exposed bit is the ten yards between the edge of the wood and the fence. So there will be a diversion at the