Dangerous in Love - Dangerous Davies 02 (11 page)

'Pluto,' she pointed out. 'Blotto is what you are.' Suddenly, she said, 'It's my son's birthday today. I telephoned him.'

Davies glanced at her and saw her eyes were glistening. 'Oh,' he said. 'It makes you sad. I'm sorry about that.'

'Next year, end of next year maybe, I'm going to have him back. His father won't let him come now. But I'll see him some day. It's three years since I was with him.'

'Don't cry,' said Davies, clumsily putting his arm about her. 'I'll show you our new cells.'

'He hardly ever saw his father,' she complained, putting her face against his shoulder. 'It wasn't fair. That man was months, years away, and never setting eyes on his little kid. One day, you've got to believe this, Dangerous, one day the priest came to the door and I said 'Hello, Father' and
..
. and my little boy went crazy because he thought it was
his
father.'

'That's a bad mistake,' agreed Davies with sombre wisdom. 'No wonder you got a divorce.'

'I didn't. We're still married. Like you are.'

She hung on to his arm and blinked her eyes towards the stars. 'Never mind,' she said almost to herself. It sounded as if she had said it many times before.

It was midnight when they reached the police station. The night sergeant had just come on duty and was unpacking his lunch from a fine old wooden case. It had brass corners, a brass lock and a polished handle with brass fittings. In regular rows around its sides, small bright screws glimmered deeply, like bulkhead lights.

'Nice piece of furniture, Lew
’
said Davies. Jemma ran her finger over the line of inset screws. The sergeant looked momentarily pleased and wished them good evening.

'My old dad made that, donkey's years ago
’
he said, patting the box. There was distant Welsh in his voice. 'He was a cabinet-maker. I wish I'd been now.'

'Got you on the red-eye trick again, have they?' said Davies. 'They've lumbered me with most of Christmas too. They reckon I haven't got anywhere better to go.'

'Exactly,' emphasized the sergeant, pointing his finger at them. 'Just because I'm Lewis Emmanuel, they put me down as Jewish, so I don't qualify for Christmas off. Every year it's the same. I keep telling them I'm bloody
Welsh.'

'Rotten luck,' said Davies sympathetically. 'We haven't got any prisoners, have we? Not staying?'

'No residents, Dangerous. Few drunks but they've been bailed. All quiet otherwise, thank God.'

'I'll just check the CID room,' said Davies, moving away from the front desk. Jemma went with him. 'See if there's any messages. I'm only stand-by tonight.'

'Right you are, Dangerous
’
said Sergeant Emmanuel, continuing the exploration of his box.

They walked along the corridor and into the CID office. Jemma's nose wrinkled. 'Doesn't anyone come and clean up in here?' she asked.

'Well, they do
’
answered Davies doubtfully. 'But it only gets filthy again. It's the cells that are the posh part of this building. They've all been refurbished. All mod cons.'

'Show me
’
she suggested suddenly. 'You promised you would
’

He looked up in surprise. 'Oh, right you are, then
’
He took a bunch of keys from the wall. They're really homely. Better than
my
home.'

She held his elbow and they walked to the rear of the building down a resounding flight of steps and through a corridor. Davies pressed a light switch, illuminating a row of six barred cells. 'Warmest place in the nick
’
he said.

'What's through that door?'

'Maximum security
’
he told her with a hint of pride. 'For real baddies.' He began opening the locks. They've only just finished them.'

He motioned her into a thickly padded interior. There were two cells, each with a bed, a chair fixed to the floor and a basin. To his surprise, Jemma sat on the bed.

'Pretty comfortable,' she said quietly, looking up into his face. Davies swallowed so violently he almost choked. 'We
...
we aim to please,' he said.

'So do I
’
said Jemma. She took his hand and coaxed him down beside her.

'This is likely to be the most private place we'll ever find, Dangerous,' she said seriously. She pulled his bemused face towards her. He was so mesmerized he forgot to kiss her. She kissed him. She had lovely lips and he could feel the gap in her teeth. His uncertain hands eventually located her breasts. Her coat was wide open and he stroked them as they stood out under her dress. Jemma half pulled away and looked beyond him. 'The door,' she said. Dragging herself clear of him, she walked the three paces to the main door of the Security Wing. At her touch it swung closed with a soft clang.

'Now we're locked in,' mentioned Davies from the bed.

'We've got the keys,' she murmured, walking back towards him.

'It doesn't open from the inside
’
he pointed out. 'It would be silly if it did, wouldn't it.'

She turned to face him with a frank grin. 'So we're stuck
’
she said mischievously.

'Stuck until Sergeant Emmanuel does his rounds, or wonders where we've gone. He probably thinks we've gone out the back way.' He spoke, even then, without realizing the possibilities. 'There's a red light outside the door
’
he continued. 'If we press the switch it will go on. But it's still got to be seen. They didn't fit anything noisy in case the villains in here disturbed the honest peace of the police station.'

He stood and made towards a switch high on the wall. His raised hand was almost there when her long brown fingers fell calmly across his wrist. Davies regarded her with near-alarm. 'Not yet, Dangerous
’
she suggested. 'We're okay here for a while. It's quiet and warm.' She sat on the bed and patted it. 'And this is quite comfortable.'

'We look after our villains very well
...
in the circumstances
..
.' His voice tailed off. He stood stupidly while she took off her coat. 'That's better,' she said, examining one of the big buttons. 'It really is close.'

Davies did not believe what was about to happen. He half moved forward to help her with the coat, then halted. Still without looking at him, she began to undo the square buttons of her dress, moving upwards from the hem. It fell open like gradually parting curtains. Davies remained transfixed. His eyes alone moved, blinking twice. She stopped at the waist and looked up at him. The opening slipped to its widest extent, the side of the dress falling away, revealing the dark lengths of her stockinged legs and, like the sail of a small oncoming ship, a triangle of white between them.

'Let me help you,' blurted Davies, stumbling on to his knees, striking them on the concrete floor. He swallowed his cry as she seized his head with both hands and fiercely once more brought their mouths together. Half suffocating, Davies clawed his way forward, forcing his knees up from the floor and almost bulldozing her back on to the low, top-security cell bed. He clambered above her, heels kicking. Again they kissed frantically. His head hit the wall at the back of the bunk.

'Wait, take it easy,' she pleaded. 'Down, Dangerous, down.'

Perspiring, Davies lowered himself away from her. 'Sorry
’
he mumbled. His knees hurt. 'I got carried away.'

'So you did,' she replied sweetly. She leaned over and kissed him at random on the face. 'Me too.' She sat up. 'Let's take it easy. Forget the wrestling. Nobody is hurrying us. Maybe we'll stay here until Boxing Day.'

'You're quite right
’
said Davies, smiling broadly through his sweat. 'What shall we do next?'

'Well, I think you ought to take some of your clothes off. That overcoat reeks of The Babe In Arms.'

She regarded him teasingly. 'You take some off, and then I'll take some more off, and then it's your turn, and so on. But nobody touches anybody until we're finished, naked. All right?'

'I'll try my best,' promised Davies. He rolled off his overcoat and then his jacket and pullover. Sitting in his braces, he studied her challengingly.

'My turn,' she agreed. Her hands returned to her dress buttons, and without rush she undid them to the neck. Davies stood, then sat down heavily on the prisoner's chair. 'More?' she inquired.

'A bit more,' he suggested croakily.

'Okay,' she agreed. With a delicious flick of her dark body, she wriggled out of the dress. It fell to the bed, leaving her naked shoulders glimmering in the lamplight. Her eyes moved up to him. 'Your deal,' she invited.

Instead of unlooping his braces, Davies undid each button separately, causing the elastic to fly dashingly over his shoulders, striking the wall behind. Now he became uncertain. She merely nodded for him to continue. He unzipped his fly at the third attempt, and began to peel back his heavy trousers. Then he changed direction and took off his boots.

'Your deal now,' he muttered.

Without leaning down, she kicked off her shoes.

'Go ahead,' she said.

Closing his eyes, his face colouring, Dangerous pulled down his trousers, revealing his white, woollen long Johns. Jemma fell at once into hilarity. 'Oh, Dangerous!' she laughed. 'Look at you! I've never
...'

'They go on in October when the clocks go back,' said Davies doggedly. 'And they stay on until March when the clocks go on again.'

'Not
..
. not the same pair?' She was looking over her hands.

'No, not the same pair,' he said, hurt. 'I've got four pairs.' She still couldn't stop. 'Listen,' he said in an upset voice. 'I didn't expect all this
...
I'd have worn my Union Jack jockstrap.'

'No, no. I'm sorry,' she pleaded. Wiping her eyes, she stood and in her stockinged feet stepped towards him. He remained in the chair. She pressed his face to her naked stomach. Then she bent at the knees so that his trembling nose travelled up to the folds of her breasts. Her hands moved down and she pulled the heavy long Johns from him. His hands slid around her waist and then down over her buttocks, pulling her pants with them. 'You don't wear a lot considering the weather,' he said.

'Enough,' she mumbled. Her fingers were on his thighs now, stroking them. Davies began to groan. He rose from the hard chair and pushed her, gently this time, towards the bed. After several bungled attempts to undo her bra, he took his hands away and she did it for him. Her glimmering breasts lolled forward. He kissed them.

They stretched out to enjoy each other. She urged him to take his time and he did. When they were lying quietly afterwards, her head in the crook of his arm, he said, looking at the ceiling: 'This is HM Government Property, you know.'

'Is it?' she mumbled dozily.
‘I
take it what I've just had was yours.'

There was no more conversation. Davies remained happily awake, but Jemma quickly slept. After a while he began to think about Sergeant Emmanuel's brass-bound box.

9

'Rhubarb - ' said Davies, making it sound like a long word. The remark was the first for some time above the lonely noise of the cutlery. Dinner at 'Bali Hi', Furtman Gardens, was often a muted feast.' - is at its best, I always think, at this time of year.'

Mrs Fulljames's mantled eyes came up from her plate. The eyes of Doris, his estranged wife, followed obediently. The schoolteacher, Minnie Banks, examined her rhubarb as if something had eluded her. Mod ate another spoonful of his.

Davies regarded in turn each half-person exposed above the table. 'A touch of frost, a bit of sooty London rain and a few slugs,' he continued, 'and what do you get - perfection.' He examined the length of rhubarb on his spoon, its strands hanging like the lifeboat davits of an abandoned ship.

'It's a shame it has to be cooked in such long dishes,' put in Mr Smeeton, the Home Entertainer. He guffawed silently above his pudding. Mod examined him with loathing.

'And the custard
’
continued Davies, rolling a yellow avalanche from his spoon. 'Thick and glorious.'

'I hope you mean what you're saying, Mr Davies,' muttered the landlady. 'Anybody who's not satisfied can move on at a week's notice.'

Davies appeared slowly shocked.
^W
I was most sincere, Mrs Fulljames
’
he said.

'He
should
like the custard
’
chortled Mr Smeeton. 'He's a policeman. He takes people into custard-y!' He almost choked on that one. Mod said: 'Good God.'

Davies finished his rhubarb and wiped his mouth on his handkerchief, a Christmas present from the cleaning lady at the police station. Leaning over the table he said: 'I bet you've wowed a few over Christmas and New Year, Mr Smeeton.'

'Thirteen separate functions, ten for the old folks,' replied the entertainer with brisk pleasure.