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Witch(23)

By:Tim O'Rourke


“No, that’s okay,” I sighed, feeling relieved that he was a fellow officer and not anyone connected to the dead members of that family.

“Look, do you want to come in for a minute?” I said, not wanting to stand outside in the street in case any of the townsfolk wanted to enquire how I was doing now that the news was out.

“A cup of tea would be great,” Vincent smiled, rubbing his hands together as if he were cold.

“I didn’t say anything about tea,” I half-smiled back at him and opened the door.

I took off my coat and dropped it onto the sofa with the newspaper. I would read it once Vincent had gone. Taking my iPod, I slotted it into the dock and switched it on.

“How about playing Ho Hey by The Lumineers,” Vincent said, glancing about the living room. “I love that song.”

“How do you know I have that track?” I asked.

“I had a peek to see what kinda music you liked listening to,” he smiled.

I glared back at him.

“Sorry,” he shrugged with another innocent-looking smile playing on his lips.

Despite feeling a bit put out that he had been nosing through my iPod, I put on the track he had suggested. The music started to play and I turned to discover Vincent had picked up a photograph which was in a frame on top of the TV.

“She’s hot,” he said, looking down at the picture in his hands.

“Do you mind?” I said, snatching the picture from him and placing it back on top of the TV. “That happens to be my mother.”

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t realise.”

“You really are a nosey sod, aren’t you,” I said, hands on my hips.

“Goes with the job, doesn’t it?” he said, dropping down onto the sofa, making himself comfortable.

I stood glaring down at him.

He looked up at me, and guessing that he’d pissed me off, he got up again and said, “I’m sorry. I’ll be on my way.”

I watched him head for the door and I felt a little guilty. He was obviously new to the job and perhaps he was just trying to be friendly. He had brought my iPod back after all.

“Do you want that cup of tea or not?” I said.

“White with two sugars,” he said with a grin stretched across his rugged face. He flopped back down onto the sofa again.

“You just make yourself comfortable,” I sighed and went to the kitchen.

I switched on the kettle and prepared the tea. As I worked, I called out to him and said, “Who told you to bring my iPod over?”

“One of the older guys,” I heard him say from the living room. “I think his name was Mac. Apparently, the skipper asked him to bring it over, but Mac got called out on some job, so he asked me to drop it off here on my way home. He told me not to tell the skipper I’d brought it over.”

I knew at once why Mac hadn’t wanted my father to know he had got the newbie to bring my iPod over, as I wasn’t meant to be having any contact with anyone at work until talk about the accident had died down.

“You won’t say anything to the skipper, will you?” he said from the other room. “I don’t want to get anyone into trouble during my first few days on the job.”

Guessing my father would give Mac a hard time, I said, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell my dad that you popped by.”

“Your dad!” Vincent suddenly gasped. I looked up to see him peering around the frame of the kitchen door at me. “Your dad is the sergeant?”

With disbelief, I looked at the cigarette which was dangling from the corner of his mouth.

“Yes, he’s my father,” I said, crossing the kitchen and snatching the half-smoked cigarette from between Vincent’s lips. “Do you mind?” I scowled at him, pitching the cigarette out in the sink. “I didn’t say you could smoke in here.”

“Sorry,” Vincent shrugged as if unable to see why it was such a big deal. “I didn’t think having a smoke would get your knickers in a twist.”

“You’re a cocky sod, aren’t you?” I snapped at him.

Ignoring me, he looked at the tea I had just poured and said, “Don’t suppose you’ve got any biscuits to go with that? Jammy Dodgers –

I love Jammy Dodgers.”

“You want Jammy Dodgers, go and freaking buy some,” I said, thrusting the cup of tea into his hands. “There’s a shop just down the road.”

Brushing past him, I went back into the living room. Vincent followed.

“So you’re the officer in the paper,” Vincent said, then made an annoying slurping sound as he drank the tea.

“Yes,” I said.

Vincent reached down and plucked up the newspaper. “You’re much prettier in real life,” he said thoughtfully.