Dying Bad (33 page)

Sarah gave a tired smile. ‘I think you'll find that only happens in fiction, Caroline.'

‘Davy.' It was Harries' turn to get the full beam treatment. ‘How you doing?'

Baker was half out of his seat. ‘My shout, lad.'

He nodded at King, gave Sarah a warm smile. ‘No thanks, sir. I'm on taxi duty. I've only dropped by to pick up the boss.'

And the boss had a bottle of Chablis chilling in the fridge. Plus a case of champagne from a still mortified Nat Hardy. He'd dropped it off at the nick two days ago, note attached telling Sarah he'd joined the AA. She assumed he didn't mean the breakdown service. Caroline cut a speculative glance between Sarah and Harries. ‘Where are you two lovebirds off to then?' The hand pressed to her mouth didn't quite hide the innocent smirk. ‘Whoops. Sorry. Just slipped out.'

‘No worries. Facts were never your strong point.' The wink took the edge off her jibe. They'd never be besties, but recent events meant they'd reached a sort of understanding. Harries held Sarah's coat. Returning his smile, she reached her arms into the sleeves. ‘I'll look out for the book, Caroline. Has it got a name yet?'

‘I've got a good one, Kingie. How's about . . . Ram to the Slaughter?' Talk about tasteless. Blank faces greeted the unbelievably piss-poor offering. The chief raised both palms, even managed to look a little sheepish. ‘Sorry guys – bad gag.'

‘Close, Mr B.' With an innocent twinkle in her eye, Caroline tilted her glass towards him. ‘I'm calling it
Bad Men.
'