Cold in the Earth by Aline Templeton Read Free Book Online

challenging gaze squarely. ‘Yes, of course.’
    ‘We were about to detain a suspect. I told her to give the caution and she had three attempts at it and then I had to prompt her. Maybe we should use her all the time – they’d all be so helpless with laughter we could throw away the handcuffs.’
    ‘Do I take it you felt she’d made you look in some sense ridiculous?’
    ‘Too bloody right I did.’
    ‘Watch your tone, Sergeant.’ Fleming spoke sharply, concerned at his belligerent attitude. ‘You felt, did you, that the constructive thing to do about a professional failing on the part of a new recruit was to frighten her into hysterics? That this would make it more likely that she would be able to cope next time?’
    ‘No, but it certainly showed the bastard we were arresting who was boss.’
    Fleming said nothing. Loudly. The pause lengthened uncomfortably until at last he burst out, ‘Oh, I suppose you’re going to say it was inappropriate and unprofessional behaviour. I suppose I should have said it didn’t matter and patted the little dear on the head – oh no, of course not, I’d have been reported for sexual harassment instead, wouldn’t I?’
    ‘Yes, you certainly would. And you don’t seem to realise how lucky you are that no formal complaint of bullying and harassment has been lodged.’
    ‘Then what the hell is all this about?’ He was on his feet, his face suffused with dark colour, his eyes wild and his huge fists tightly clenched. ‘If I’m just here to jump through hoops—’
    ‘Stop right there, Sergeant. That’s an order. And stand to attention.’ Fleming jumped up and came round the desk to within a foot of him. She was not that much shorter than he was; she held his gaze relentlessly, hoping that he couldn’t hear the pounding of her heart. The silent struggle continued for a few seconds, then like an animal subdued he dropped his head. A moment later he straightened up, hands by his side, feet together, as the tide of angry colour ebbed from his face.
    ‘Sorry, ma’am,’ he mumbled.
    ‘Oh yes, I should think you are. And it’s just a question of how much sorrier I’m going to make you.’ She went back round the desk, glad to sit down before her shaking knees betrayed her.
    He stood in front of her, rigidly at attention, his eyes fixed somewhere above her head. She sighed. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, Conrad, sit down and stop being such a fool. You’re a good detective but you’ve just demonstrated a lack of control which would make you a total liability.’
    He almost collapsed into the chair, as if someone had hit him behind the knees. He was sweating; he was taking out a handkerchief to mop his brow as she went on, ‘That, plus the business with Johnston – I have to ask how long it’s going to be before you lose it completely and take someone out. What on earth is going on?’
    ‘Sorry,’ he said again, still speaking thickly. ‘Personal problems. I shouldn’t have let them get on top of me like that. It won’t happen again.’
    This wasn’t the moment to point out that this was what he’d said last time. ‘Do you feel like telling me about them?’ Fleming said gently.
    Mason bit at his lip, his head again bowed. He looked up at her fleetingly, then down again, as if trying to make up his mind. Then he started: his mother – she was so demanding, claiming he neglected her but it was only because he was going on training courses and anyway he’d a right to live his own life after all, hadn’t he, and most men wouldn’t put up with it . . .
    Eventually he trailed into silence. Fleming hesitated, weighing her words, then said, ‘Tell me to mind my own business if you like, but why don’t you get a place of your own?’
    ‘It’s – well, it would be difficult.’ But he was recovering visibly, as if what he had said had released some almost unbearable tension. He shrugged and smiled. ‘I certainly couldn’t afford the Jag on what they pay me at the