* * *
Love flung open his door.
A whoosh of cold air filled the car causing Stuart to groan. ‘Oh, thank you very much, Love, just as I’d finally got this thing warmed up.’
Love grinned. ‘Sorry about that.’ He nodded to Stuart’s scarf. ‘If ever you get time to make another perhaps you could knit one for my mother.’
Love was well aware of Stuart’s creative hobby.
Stuart found it calming, he was good at it, it helped him to think, and he was man enough not to care what others thought.
‘With pleasure but with our workload it will probably be ready in time for next Christmas as opposed to this one,’ he said, and smiled. ‘Just get enough wool in and I’ll make a start on it when I can.’
‘Brilliant, mate.’ He snapped on his seat belt, he pushed the gear into reverse, took the handbrake off, hit the accelerator and drove out of the space. He turned sharply, pushed the gear into first, cruised out of the car park and on to Landor Road.
Stuart looked on as a motorbike pulled out in front causing Love to slam his foot down hard on the brake. He waited for the retort but it didn’t happen. He glanced at Love. ‘I take it the meeting with Julie Cooper was a successful one?’
Love grinned as he pushed the gear into first. ‘Actually,’ he said, glancing in his rear-view mirror, ‘it was a washout.’
‘Then why the good mood?’
‘Something I thought to be a certain situation turned out not to be the case at all.’
‘Are you purposely talking in riddles or am I supposed to guess to what you are referring exactly?’
‘Well, in a nutshell…’
‘Nutshells are good, give me the nutshell version.’
‘I thought Julie was dating Sullivan but it turns out she’s not.’
Stuart watched the cars slow down as they pulled up at a set of traffic lights. Not so busy at this time, early Sunday afternoon, although it would pick up again later. He was glad to be going home and staying in for the evening. It had been a busy week and his shoulder was throbbing.
‘You honestly thought Julie Cooper was going out with James Sullivan?’
Love stole a quick glance at Stuart. ‘Yeah, why?’
‘Love, your gut is way off where Julie Cooper is concerned.’
‘Really?’
‘What do you mean “really”! Of course it is, for goodness sake, he’s not her type.’
The traffic lights turned green, already in first, Love let off the clutch touched the accelerator and the car nudged forward. ‘Then what is her type?’ Half afraid to hear the answer.
‘You are,’ Stuart said before adding, ‘you wanker!’
Twenty minutes later, Love was turning right into Notting Hill Gate right again into Palace Gardens Terrace and right into West Mall.
He drove to the end turning left into Rabbit Row and a moment later came to a stop half on the road and half on the pavement just before Stuart’s house and garage. He pushed the gear into neutral, yanked on the handbrake and turned the key. The car settled around them.
‘Are you coming in?’ Stuart asked.
Love shook his head. ‘No, mate, not this time.’ He leant over towards Stuart, opened the glovebox and pulled out a plastic evidence bag and a pair of plastic gloves. ‘Here,’ he said. ‘We’ll need these.’
‘Are you sure?’
Love glanced at Stuart. ‘About this?’ He held up the bag and gloves.
Stuart smiled. ‘No, about coming in, Emma would love to see you.’
‘Yeah, and me her but not today, let’s get this case wrapped up, you go inside and relax and I can go home and do the same with the puppies.’ He grinned. ‘Or at least as much as one can with three newborn puppies and a stubborn mother.’
They opened their doors and got out of the car at the same time. Stuart fished in his front pocket of his jeans for his keys. He went through them until he came to the key for the garage. He pushed it in the lock, turned the handle, the door opened. He flicked on the light switch. He looked at Love. ‘I’m afraid I can’t do much searching with one arm.’
Love looked at the little car. He walked round to the back. ‘No sweat, mate, let’s try the trunk first.’
‘The boot? Certainly, but any particular reason?’
‘Yeah, it’s a smaller space than inside the car…’
‘So if it’s not in there we haven’t wasted too much time looking,’ Stuart said.
‘Exactly,’ Love said, and smiled.
Stuart edged his way round the car until he was standing next to Love. He leant forward turned the handle and the boot sprung open. Meanwhile, Love was peeling on his surgical gloves. He peered into the interior. Inside was a blanket, a pair of Wellington boots belonging to Shannon, a plastic can for petrol, some oil but no WWII Luftwaffe flick knife.
‘Have a feel just inside round the corners,’ Stuart said.
Love bent down, felt along the rim, pressing gently when suddenly he pulled back. ‘I think we’ve got something.’
He reached in carefully and a moment later was holding the wooden-handled knife in his fingers. They both stared at it. Love fished out the bag from his pocket, tried to shake it open, couldn’t manage it, Stuart grabbed it with his good hand, opened it, and Love dropped the knife inside, zipped the bag shut.
‘Right,’ Stuart said. ‘I’ll put this under lock and key and first thing tomorrow morning I’ll drop it off with Fitch.’
‘Last bit of evidence,’ Love said.
Stuart looked down at the knife in his hand. ‘Last piece of the missing jigsaw.’ A car shot by outside, the soft thump of its stereo diminishing as it screeched to a halt before continuing on its way only to be swallowed up in the London traffic. ‘I’ll get the interview transcribed and that’ll be that.’
Love smiled. ‘Case closed, mate.’
Stuart nodded, and said, ‘Case closed, partner.’
Stuart edged his way past the Mini and on to the road outside. Love followed, peeling of his gloves. Stuart reached with his good arm, turned off the light, closed the door, locked it. He looked over at Love.
‘Give Julie and pups a big hug.’
Love grinned. ‘That I will.’
Stuart flicked his hair out of his eye, the model detective. ‘See you tomorrow,’ he said. ‘And don’t worry about Julie, the two-legged kind, I mean.’
Love grinned, turned on his heel and began to walk back to his car. ‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said. ‘Whatever will be, I know!’ He pulled open his door and climbed in. Whatever, he pondered, whatever that will be.
He turned the key, pushed the gear into first, looked over his right shoulder, pulled off the pavement with a clunk, and was gone.