Death in the Sunshine (Retired Detectives Club, #1)(44)

‘Exactly what sort?’ says Philip.

Tell them enough truth to be plausible, Moira tells herself, but not too much. She clenches her jaw. Who is she trying to kid? Telling them anything is a risk. She has to keep details to a bare minimum. ‘I was a DCI. Undercover.’

Rick’s pointing at her, smiling. ‘I knew it. You had to have something going on. Your instincts are way too good for a first-timer.’

‘I thought so too,’ says Philip. His tone is curt. He’s obviously pissed off. ‘Shame you didn’t think to tell us before, it would have stopped me looking like a fool every time I explained things for you.’

I doubt knowing I was a DCI would have stopped you, thinks Moira.

‘Why didn’t you mention it when we were talking earlier?’ says Lizzie. She sounds hurt and Moira can see the distrust is back in her eyes.

Damn. Moira gives Lizzie an apologetic look. ‘I’m sorry. When I first came here I was trying to assimilate to retirement. It was strange not to be on the job any more and I found it easier if I didn’t talk about it.’

‘But you could have told me today,’ says Lizzie, frowning. ‘We were talking about retirement and everything. I don’t get why you’d hide it from—’

‘Look, I was going to tell you earlier, but Philip and Rick got back before I could and then—’

‘It’s not really that big of a deal,’ Rick says, grinning and giving Moira a light, friendly punch on the shoulder. ‘Four retired law enforcers uniting to crack this case. Who’d have thought it? We should call ourselves the retired detectives club.’

‘Not all of us were detectives,’ says Lizzie. ‘And it is a big deal to me.’

‘Why does it matter? You know now,’ says Rick amicably. ‘It can be real hard making the switch from the job into retirement. Moira’s not the first ex-cop I’ve met who’s had a hard time talking about the life.’

Lizzie shrugs.

Moira knows she’s going to have to put some time into getting Lizzie back onside. The trust they’d built earlier on their visit to the Manatee Park crime scene has been eroded by the revelation of her old job.

Philip looks from Lizzie to Rick and then to Moira. Clears his throat. ‘Well, I guess it’s good to have you on the team, Detective Chief Inspector.’

‘Thanks,’ says Moira, but Philip’s forced smile isn’t fooling her and there’s an undercurrent of irritation to his jovial tone. His nose is badly out of joint over her being ex-police, but that’s just too bad. There’s nothing she can do now.

Rick rubs his palms together. ‘Time for us to all work a little differently then, given we’ve got so much expertise in the group. We need to make sure we’re playing to each other’s strengths.’

‘Agreed,’ says Moira. She gestures towards the patio door. ‘And I guess that means we can all write on the murder board.’

Philip passes the spatula he’s holding from hand to hand, looking uncomfortable. ‘Well, usually I’d assign duties according to rank and—’

‘This isn’t our job. We don’t need formal structures,’ says Lizzie firmly. She’s looking at Philip and has angled her body away from Moira, deliberately avoiding eye contact. ‘We can find a way of working together that works for all of us.’

‘True, true,’ says Philip. He’s still frowning, but he nods and turns back to attend to the steaks. As he flips them he says, ‘We’re all equals.’

Moira’s glad to hear it, but she doesn’t quite believe him. She’s pretty sure he’d rather they agreed he was in charge, and she expects that there’ll be trouble ahead – they’re bound to clash over actions to take, evidence to follow up on, but she’s happy to go along with things for now. She doesn’t have the energy for a fight tonight. So she turns her attention back to Rick’s original question. Looks over and catches his eye. ‘The guy’s hoodie was a dark colour, dark grey I think, but it could have been navy. It was hard to tell at that distance and with the sun in my eyes.’

‘Worth including that,’ he says, gesturing to the list on the glass doors.

‘Totally.’ She adds ‘dark grey/navy’ next to the word ‘Hoodie’ on the board. Then puts the marker pen back on the table and takes a seat next to Rick.

Philip serves the steaks.

Lizzie gives them fresh drinks. ‘Dig in,’ she says.

The food is good, and Moira’s feeling ravenous now that it’s sitting right in front of her. She’s cutting a piece of steak when Philip starts with the questions.

‘Where was your base, when you were on the job?’ asks Philip, as he stuffs a chunk of steak covered in sauce into his mouth.

‘London,’ says Moira.

‘Whereabouts?’ he asks, still chewing.

Moira’s doesn’t like it when people talk with their mouth full, and she’s not keen on these questions either. She can’t go into detail, but she doesn’t want Philip to think she’s being evasive so she keeps her answers vague. ‘North of the river.’

‘Yes, yes,’ Philip says. ‘That’s old Jack Mortimer’s neck of the woods, isn’t it?’

‘He wasn’t my gaffer, but I knew of him. Great character.’