When The Party Died by A.G. Barnett

Author:A.G. Barnett [Barnett, A.G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Oddmoor Press
Published: 2018-07-12T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 19

“For goodness sake, can you just stop fussing, Sam!” Laura flicked him away with her hand as he tried to lift the pan of porridge from the stove for her.

“I’m just trying to help,” Brock answered defensively.

“Well, maybe you should have thought of that during the last twelve years we’ve been together?” she said laughing.

“Ouch,” Brock said, feigning hurt feelings, his hand over his heart.

“So why won’t you talk to me about this promotion?” she asked when he was sat back at the kitchen table and stroking Indy’s ears. The dog pushing his head into Brock’s hand, his eyes closed.

“Not much to talk about. They’ve asked me to apply, I’m thinking about it.”

“You know, most people would be over the moon if they were offered a promotion like that.”

“Yes, but most people are idiots,” Brock answered gruffly.

Laura turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” he muttered back.

When he had arrived back from the manor house yesterday evening, the initial glow of being a soon-to-be father wearing off, he had moaned.

Moaned about the group of idle rich who were currently in residence there, moaned about the constable who had driven him home and how poor his driving had been, and had even moaned that Indy had taken his slipper off to his bed and drooled on it.

Laura had then in no uncertain terms told him that he needed to cut out this doom and gloom or they were going to end up with a child as grumpy as he was.

Sam Brock had taken this news to heart and was now determined to become an altogether sunnier figure. He realised he had slipped already.

“I don’t just want to sit behind a desk,” he said sighing. Meetings, red tape, looking over reports of other people doing real police work. It’s just not me.”

“Well then, it sounds like you’ve made your mind up to me,” Laura said, turning and placing two bowls of porridge on the table.

“But things are different now,” Brock said quietly, poking at the bowl in front of him with a spoon.

“You mean because of the lime?”

Brock looked up in confusion. “The lime?”

“I’ve got this new app on my phone which tells you the baby’s size each week. Right now it’s the size of a lime.”

Brock stood up, walked over to the fridge, and pulled lime from the shelf on the door.

“Bloody hell,” he said holding it up.

“Anyway, why would that make you want to take the job? I know we’re not rolling in it, but we’re ok for money, aren’t we?”

“It’s not that,” Brock said, putting the lime back and returning to his seat.

Laura stared at him as he finally took a spoonful of porridge. “The cursed detective,” she said quietly. The spoon paused on route to his mouth, but he didn’t look up. “That’s it isn’t it?” she continued. “You’re worried about being involved in cases. You think you should take the job because you’ll be safer.”

Brock looked up at her and gave a weak smile. “You can see right through me, can’t you? A man afraid to do his job.

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