Chapter Text
Almost three months after they solved the Sandbrook case, CS Jenkinson called detectives Hardy and Miller into her office to give them a special assignment.
‘I need you to go undercover,’ she told them. ‘We suspect a man called Peter Stoke is staying at a resort in Budmouth. High level dealer, leader of a fairly big ring, elusive, difficult to catch. We need you to get a trace on him, find out anything you can about his activities and where he’s planning on going next, as well as who he's speaking to and who he’s dealing with. We may be able to collapse the ring from the top down if we get enough evidence.’
Ellie had not done undercover work before. There wasn’t much call for it in a tiny Dorset town where everyone knew your name. The prospect excited her.
Until she heard the caveat.
‘So the two of you have to pretend to be married!’ Dirty Brian crowed when he saw them come out of Jenkinson’s office. He had heard Ellie’s loud protestations quite clearly through the thin walls. ‘Well. That shouldn’t be too much of stretch for you, should it?’
A few of the officers tittered. Ellie flung a thunderous look at him. ‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’
Brian backpedalled quickly. ‘Nothing. I just mean – well, after the work you two did on Sandbrook…’
Ellie narrowed her eyes. Brian began to sweat. Some of the officers were laughing through their hands, but they stopped abruptly when Ellie glared. Muttering something, she turned and stalked from the room. Hardy followed doubtfully at her heel.
‘Good luck,’ Brian called after him.
He did not reply.
*
I cannot believe this, Ellie thought.
It was high summer in the luxurious seaside town of Budmouth and the streets were thronging with people. Families and couples surged to and fro and banners fluttered overhead. Through this crowd, she and Hardy moved, just one more pair of anonymous holidaymakers.
‘Will you stop fiddling with that,’ Ellie snapped.
‘Sorry,’ Hardy grunted. He let his hand fall from the gold ring on his finger. ‘It’s been so long since I wore one.’
‘Me too, but you don’t see me scratching at it like a madman.’
The ring on her own finger was silver. A large diamond – presumably fake, but real enough in appearance – was set into it, framed by a number of smaller jewels. She picked at it with her thumb, then shook her hand and tried to ignore it.
They made their way to the imposing, multi-storey resort where Stoke was meant to be staying. Ellie was pulling a large wheeled suitcase behind her, and it clacked stridently on the cobblestones. It got stuck on the kerbstone when she crossed the road, and when Hardy tried to help her lift it onto the footpath she snapped so viciously at him that he took half a step backwards and several people glanced at them.
Looking thunderous, Ellie grasped the suitcase with both hands and hauled it onto the footpath before continuing on.
‘You seem a little tense,’ he dared to comment.
‘Of course I’m tense. Jenkinson’s doing this to punish me. I know it.’
With some pragmatism, Hardy replied, ‘she’s doing it because we’re the best people for the job.’
‘What does that mean?’ Ellie demanded, pausing.
‘We’re the most experienced detectives she’s got,’ Hardy amended.
The answer satisfied her, but it was plain she was still stewing over something.
‘Hardly experienced,’ she muttered at last. ‘I’ve never been undercover before.’
‘But I have,’ Hardy said. ‘You’ll be fine.’ He could see she was still unhappy, so he added, ‘we’re working a case now, Miller. Just shut everything else out.’
‘Not Miller.’ She squared her shoulders. ‘It’s Sue Fawley, remember?’
‘And her husband, Jude Fawley,’ Hardy replied smoothly.
He extended his arm to her. Ellie hesitantly took it. Her hand rested on his forearm and the fake ring gleamed.
‘Bit weird, isn’t it?’ Ellie murmured. They were very close to the hotel entrance now.
He did not reply. He was hard beneath her fingers, and she could feel sinew and muscle straining under her grip. She knew he was nervous, but his face was an emotionless mask. If he could shut it out, so could she.
After all, he was right. They were working a case. Odd as the situation was, it was nothing but professional. She would be fine. She wouldn’t lose her cool.
‘You’re putting us where?’ Ellie demanded loudly of the receptionist.
Hardy suppressed a groan. Plainly Ellie had already forgotten the first rule of undercover work, which was not to draw undue attention to oneself.
The receptionist blinked. ‘The – the Honeymoon Suite, ma’am,’ she replied. ‘You requested it when you booked it.’
She turned the monitor around and showed her the booking details. Hardy put his hand on her shoulder.
‘It’s the right room, love,’ he told her, squeezing.
Ellie twitched. ‘Yes, I suppose I was mistaken,’ she said, grinding her teeth together. ‘But – erm…’ she lowered her voice and leaned forward. ‘Is there any way that we could get two beds in that room?’
‘In the Honeymoon Suite?’
‘Sue, darling,’ Hardy said warningly.
‘It’s just that – he’s a dreadful kicker,’ she persisted, ‘and if we share a bed I’ll be black and blue in the morning. You know how it is with husbands and their night terrors.’
She effected a fake laugh to try and offset the oddness of her request, but it only made things worse. The receptionist looked equally baffled and concerned. Hardy gave her shoulder another squeeze and she gave up.
‘Never mind, it’s fine. Honeymoon Suite it is.’ She snatched the swipecard from the receptionist.
The receptionist rattled off some information for them. ‘Breakfast is served from eight to ten-thirty daily,’ she told them. ‘The pool, gym and other amenities are open from five-thirty am to midnight. Room service is twenty-four hours.’
‘Did I read somewhere that there’ll be a ball in a few days?’ Hardy asked casually.
‘Correct. Every Saturday night in Summer we conduct our famous ballroom dinners. There’ll be cocktails served and dancing afterwards. All hotel guests are invited. But there is a dress code.’ She looked meaningfully at Ellie’s rather lacklustre outfit.
‘Count us in,’ Hardy replied. ‘Been a long time since we went dancing, hasn’t it, love?’
Ellie scowled. ‘You’ve never taken me dancing.’
‘Oh, it hasn’t been that long.’
Under the receptionist’s quizzical eye, Hardy and Ellie headed towards the lift. Hardy put his arm around her shoulder for good measure. The lift descended, and they disappeared inside it.
As soon as the doors closed, Ellie threw him off violently.
‘What the hell was that?’ they demanded simultaneously. They faced off, fuming, then Hardy spoke over her:
‘We’ve not been here two minutes and you’ve already come close to blowing our cover!’
‘Well – well what’s all that?’ she protested. ‘All those – hands! And calling me love!’
‘We’re married,’ he reminded her drily. ‘I won’t touch you again if you ask me not to, but if you want this to work you will need to put some effort in.’
Ellie sensed she was on the losing side of the argument. She grew quiet.
‘I’m sorry this is awkward,’ Hardy said. ‘But we’re working right now, and we need to do this right. The sooner we find him, the sooner we’ll be out, so just put up with it until then.’
She frowned. She disliked the way he was speaking to her. It reminded her of when they’d first started working together, when he had been all experience and she had been all innocence. She liked to think they were equals now, and he certainly treated her as such, but now that they were thrown back into a situation where he had all the experience and she had none, those old tensions were coming back.
Well. She’d show him. She refused to act like some wide-eyed, naïve, inexperienced junior cop. She’d show him just how deep undercover she could go.
The lift dinged and the doors opened smoothly onto the highest floor. Ellie and Hardy came to their room and opened it with the electronic door key.
They entered the Honeymoon Suite to be greeted by an enormous King Size bed. The door swung shut behind them and they stared at it for a moment.
‘I’ll sleep on the floor,’ Hardy grunted.
‘Oh, don’t be stupid,’ Ellie snapped. ‘You can use the couch.’
She pointed at a tiny, uncomfortable couch that did not appear to be designed for practical use. Hardy looked morosely at it.
Ellie looked past the bed to the windows beyond. ‘Blimey, this is a big hotel room!’ she said. ‘And look at that view! You can see everything in Budmouth from here.’
She pressed herself eagerly against the glass.
‘Jenkinson said that Stoke always gets the biggest rooms when he stays here,’ Hardy mused as he unzipped the suitcase. ‘If he’s anywhere, he’ll be on this floor.’
Ellie turned around. ‘He could even be behind these walls,’ she said. She rapped lightly on them. ‘Do you think they’re soundproof?’
He went red. ‘It’s the Honeymoon Suite,’ he muttered.
It took her a moment to catch his meaning, then her own cheeks deepened in shade. ‘Oh – right,’ she said, emitting a high-pitched laugh. ‘Oh – I – I just thought that – you know, we might be able to listen in on him, but… I guess, we can’t hear him, and he can’t hear us. Or anything we do. Or don’t do. Good thing.’
Her cheeks still flushed, she retreated to the bathroom, as she often did in times of stress. ‘Bloody hell,’ she said as she entered.
Hardy joined her. The bathroom was white and sparkling and expansive. A huge, luxurious spa took up half the space.
‘I know we’re working,’ Ellie said, ‘but I am using that spa.’ She looked around the sumptuous hotel room with a sense of despair. ‘This is the fanciest hotel I’ve ever been in and I’m stuck with you.’
‘Thanks very much.’
‘You know what I mean.’
Hardy finished unpacking their things. ‘We should go for a walk around the town. Try to get our bearings a bit more and scope out possible places Stoke would go. After that, we’ll come back to the hotel and look around the amenities.’ He threw a bright sundress at Ellie. ‘Put that on,’ he said. ‘It’ll help us blend in with the Budmouth crowd.’
Ellie unfolded the dress and her heart sank. ‘I swear Jenkinson is doing this on purpose,’ she muttered as she went into the bathroom to get changed.
*
I’ve been alone too long, Ellie thought.
She was promenading down the main street of Budmouth arm in arm with Alec Hardy, accoutred in a flouncy sundress that made her look like a wedding cake. A large camera hung on a strap around her neck. Her beau was kitted out in loafers, shorts, a polo shirt, and had a sweater tied around his neck.
They looked ridiculous.
And it was strangely enjoyable.
She never lost sight of their objective, of course, and the two of them were always scanning their surroundings and meticulously filing away details they could use, but their efforts to appear as an ordinary couple left room for playfulness. The camera was prepped in case they saw Stoke or any of his associates, but while they were lacking a target, she amused herself by taking pictures of Hardy when he was neither ready nor willing. They were pretending to be tourists, after all. It was natural for a wife to take embarrassing pictures of her husband in front of harbours and monuments.
In turn, Hardy was obliged to be playful and affectionate. As they walked around Budmouth, he insisted on locking arms with her or holding her hand. When they stood together on the historic bridge overlooking the river, taking in the view, his arm settled absently on her waist. Sitting in a café, he thought nothing of reaching across to brush a crumb from her mouth. He never kissed her – not that she hoped he would – but otherwise he was easy and familiar with her, adopting the mannerisms of an affectionate but absent-minded husband with alarming alacrity.
If she was being completely honest, she'd been afraid of this. Because being with him like this was... affecting her.
They wandered through the square, where an impressive rose garden took pride of place amongst the public amenities and a war memorial. They came to an archway covered in climbing pink roses. Upon seeing Ellie glance wistfully at a bloom high above her head, Hardy reached up and bent the stem to her face. She inhaled the aroma, then with a mischievous grin Hardy shoved her and she faceplanted the rose.
‘You bastard!’ she said incredulously. She chased him through the park, sneezing pollen everywhere. When she caught him, he was laughing.
Oh yes, she'd been afraid of this.
There had always been such a physical gulf, such a distance between them. No matter how close they got emotionally, they never really touched. The most intimate thing they’d ever done was shake hands. But it was safer that way, really. Safer for him to be her grumpy boss, or just some guy she worked with. Because...
Hardy unexpectedly slipped his arm around her waist. He leaned into her and his lips brushed the curve of her ear. She shuddered all over, her eyes wide.
'I think I just saw Stoke,' he whispered. 'He went into that building. Stay close to me.'
Having snapped into detective mode, Hardy hunted ahead with a keen eye. After a few minutes, he ascertained the lead was a dead-end and he reverted back to affectionate husband. His ability to switch from one to the other was unnerving, and it left Ellie feeling stupid and embarrassed over the effect his touch had on her.
This is just a job, she reminded herself sternly. It's not real. The love, the affection, the playfulness - none of it's real.
To Hardy, this was all business. He touched her, but it was because he was doing a job. He was loving, but only to solve the case. And here she was, stewing in pheromones, honest-to-God quivering at the slightest brush of his fingers.
She wasn’t sure who she hated more – herself or Hardy.
Mostly, she blamed Jenkinson, and cursed the CS’s name to hell and back.
After spending the day getting their bearings in Budmouth, Hardy felt satisfied that they knew the area well enough. They rehearsed the different street names to each other then, hand-in-hand, he conducted her back to the hotel.
They ended up next to the outdoor pool. It was Hardy’s opinion that on such a fine day, Stoke might come here. If that were the case, it would be the perfect opportunity to look through unattended personal belongings or snap a photo.
‘It’s a slim chance, but worth taking,’ he said mildly.
They claimed some deck chairs and Ellie stripped off. She had shrewdly packed a black one-piece suit that covered her middle. As a supposedly childless woman, a glimpse of her caesarean scar was likely to raise eyebrows.
She slopped some sunscreen on. ‘Here, darling, let me get your back,’ she heard a voice say behind her, then suddenly Hardy was rubbing sunscreen across the exposed skin of her neck and shoulderblades.
‘Thank you,’ she said, falsely bright. Quietly, she ground her teeth together. Part of her wanted to kill him; another, traitorous part imagined what it would feel like if those strong, masculine hands were massaging other parts of her.
No. No, no, no, she told herself. I refuse to think about that.
He finished her off. Then he removed his shirt and tossed it aside, revealing a hairy brown torso, elegantly muscled and covered with a multitude of scars, the product of a lifetime as a police officer. Ellie’s cheeks grew hot.
Nope. No, definitely not thinking about it.
Hardy’s fear of the water prevented him from swimming. He slung himself across a deck chair and started reading a book. It would take a careful observer indeed to notice that his eyes were focused on a point just above the book, and that he was carefully skimming his surroundings instead.
For form’s sake, Ellie got into the water. She did a few laps up and down, then grew still and floated serenely for a while, her eyes closed.
She knew this was a job, and she was under no delusion that this was serious business, but… it was nice. The last time she’d been on holiday was over a year ago, when she’d gone to Florida with her boys and… her husband. It made her morose to think of Florida, and it was even more pathetic to think that this was the nicest thing that had happened to her since then. She couldn’t help wishing that her boys were here too. They’d love walking around the town and splashing with her in the pool while Alec –
Her eyes snapped open and she sputtered water. Since when had Hardy been a part of her fantasies? Was she seriously imagining how nice it would be if her boys were here with her and Hardy?
Oh God, she'd been afraid of this...
Coughing, she waded upright and glanced over at the man in question. He had evidently been trying to get her attention for some time, for he was looking intently at her, and when she made eye contact he motioned her over.
Composing herself, Ellie slicked back her wet hair and climbed the steps out of the pool. Hardy watched her carefully and handed her a towel when she grew close.
‘I need you to stay here for a minute,’ he muttered. ‘I think I might have a lead.’
‘What lead?’
‘Can I get you anything to drink?’ he asked loudly, standing.
He prompted her subtly. ‘Oh – ta. A juice,’ she replied.
‘Be right back,’ he said.
There was a small hotel bar set up near the outdoor pool. He disappeared out of view for a while. Ellie towelled her hair dry, then lay the towel on the deck chair and stretched out. She closed her eyes.
A shadow fell over her and she opened them again. Hardy was staring at her, two drinks clutched in his hand. She saw him swallow slightly, then he straightened his shoulders and handed one of the drinks to her. He scooted onto the edge of the deck chair with her, and their bare skin brushed.
‘I was talking to the bartender,’ he said quietly as he took a sip, ‘managed to get him talking about some of his regulars. He mentioned a man fitting Stoke’s description.’
‘And?’
‘He’s gone out today, but he comes here early most afternoons. Often brings different guests with him. Sometimes they go up to his hotel room together.’ As he settled further into the chair his skin pressed more closely to hers. He took a deep draught. ‘This young man appeared to be under the impression that Stoke was hiring escorts. He found it quite amusing.’
‘But we know they’re probably clients,’ Ellie murmured. She was still cool and damp from the water. His skin was so hot in comparison, like bronze metal warmed by the sun.
‘Yeah.’
He lingered for a second longer, then smoothly withdrew to his own chair. ‘I think we should have an early night,’ he declared. ‘We had such a long trip this morning – we’ll need to rest up for a big day tomorrow.’
Ellie agreed demurely.
About half an hour later they headed back up to their hotel room. Hardy lazily draped his arm over her shoulder and carried her bag for her. Once they were inside, he snapped into detective mode and unceremoniously dropped both her and the bag so that she stumbled slightly.
‘Right. We know almost for certain that Stoke’s on this floor. The peephole of our room has a view of the elevator. I say we stake it out and wait for Stoke to come past. We'll get a good view of him and whomever he might have with him. We’ll also know for sure which room is his.’
‘Does this mean it’s just a matter of playing the waiting game?’ Ellie asked as Hardy picked up the high stool from the kitchenette area and placed it by the door.
‘Yep.’
He seated himself on the stool. It was just tall enough to allow him to comfortably sit and look through the peephole.
‘So you’re gonna stay there all night?’ Ellie asked.
‘If that’s what it takes.’
He continued to stare through the peephole. He was completely rigid, already absorbed in his task. Ellie shrugged and quickly got changed into pyjamas, a hotel dressing gown and slippers. She got the matching robe for Hardy and handed it to him.
‘What’s this?’ he asked.
‘If you’re going to be sitting there all night, you might as well get comfy.’
He looked dubious.
‘Come on.’ She dumped them in his lap. ‘Those tiny shorts can’t be good for your circulation.’
‘They’re not,’ he sighed, accepting defeat. He took the robe and slippers and Miller took his place on the chair. She looked out through the peephole and saw nothing but carpet and elevator doors.
Hardy began to get changed behind her. She stared determinedly straight ahead. ‘I have no idea why they packed those clothes for us,’ she said loudly. ‘We looked ridiculous.’
‘We looked like everyone else here,’ he said mildly.
‘Everyone at the station knows I hate dresses,’ she went on. ‘I swear they packed that monstrosity to spite me.’
‘You won’t like what they’ve packed for the ballroom dinner, then,’ he cautioned.
‘Christ, I don’t even want to think about that. Maybe Stoke won't go,' she said hopefully. 'We don't know for certain he will.'
'Given his profile, he's likely to,' Hardy replied. 'He loves showing off his wealth at public events. He'd never miss a chance to wear his best suit and dine on the best food. And that's good news for us. His guard will be down. We’ll get something solid on him for sure.’
He appeared beside her with a sigh, clad in the fluffy robe and with the slippers on. ‘Better?’ she asked, sliding off the seat.
He grunted. ‘I’d feel better in my suit.’
He would have looked more comfortable in his suit, too, Ellie thought. His rigid, upright sentry position clashed with the casual attire.
She left Hardy to it and called her boys. Tom answered and excitedly asked her how the mission was going. She had to remind him that she wasn’t a spy, then after chatting with him about school for a while she asked to speak to Fred.
‘Oy! Hardy!’ Ellie yelled.
He grunted.
‘Fred says hello!’
‘Hi Fred.’
‘Uncle Alec says hello back,’ Ellie told Fred, to the boy’s delight.
She ended the phone call by reiterating how much she loved both of them, then said goodbye. This done, she made another important phone call.
‘Yeah. Yeah, with extra cheese. And for dessert, I want the sticky date pudding and the mousse. And…’
‘What are you up to?’ Hardy demanded, still glued to his seat.
‘I’m ordering room service,’ Ellie yelled. ‘Will you eat one dessert or two?’
‘None.’
‘Make it three,’ Ellie said into the phone. ‘I’ll get the mud cake as well. Yeah. That’s all. Okay, see you soon. Bye.’
She hung up and wandered over to Hardy, looking satisfied.
‘Room service?’ he asked dryly.
‘Well, we don’t know how long we’re going to be stuck here,’ she pointed out. ‘I’m not going hungry when chocolate mud cake is only a phone call away. Besides, the police are paying for all this.’
‘We’re not supposed to use the money on superfluities.’
‘Dinner isn’t a “superfluity,”’ she said, making quotation marks in the air.
‘No, but three desserts is.'
‘Those arseholes made me wear a dress and shack up with you. They're paying for it one way or another.'
The corner of Hardy’s mouth twitched and she swore she saw the beginnings of a smile.
‘But the real reason I ordered room service,’ she went on casually, ‘is because if we’ve got dishes, we can use that as an excuse to open the door and “accidentally” bump into Stoke when we see him come out of the elevator.’
That got his attention. He threw a quick glance at her. ‘You think we should make contact?'
‘Stalking from a distance is all well and good, but if you want to get information out of someone, the best way is to talk to them. If we befriend him, talk to him as one wealthy couple to another wealthy man, we'll be able to learn a lot more. It won't be as weird if we accidentally bump into him at breakfast or by the pool. Talking, making friends… I think it will work a lot better than creeping at a distance.’
‘I think you’re right,’ he said after a while. ‘Good idea, Miller.'
She beamed.
Room service arrived not long after. The waiter delivered the trays, then wheeled the trolley back out.
‘Having an early night I see,’ he commented.
‘Well, we had such a big day,’ Ellie said, waving her hand. ‘We thought it’d be best to stay in.’
‘Well, when you’re staying in the Honeymoon Suite, why even bother leaving?’ the waiter winked cheekily.
‘Oh, believe me, if it were up to me, he wouldn’t see daylight for the next week,’ Ellie said, slapping Hardy’s arse enthusiastically. He jumped.
‘If I were in his shoes, you wouldn't need to convince me of that,’ the waiter said with a flirtatious tilt of his head.
Ellie laughed. Hardy frowned and placed his arm protectively around Ellie’s shoulder. ‘Careful,’ he said darkly. ‘That’s my wife you’re speaking to. I’m not sure I appreciate what you’re insinuating.’
‘We’re just joking, darling,’ Ellie said.
He grunted and loomed forward so the waiter hastily backed through the door. 'Thanks then,’ Hardy said abruptly, and he shut the door in the waiter’s face.
A few tense moments passed. Hardy squinted through the peephole until the waiter retreated to the elevator. 'Creep,' he muttered.
‘Do you have to be so rude?’ Ellie hissed.
‘He was flirting with you right in front of me!’
‘He was fishing for a tip you ninny,’ she snapped. 'For God's sake.'
She uncovered the trays with a series of strident clatters and roughly passed one of the meals to Hardy. Nursing his dinner on his lap, Hardy resumed his watch. He complained about the taste and texture of his meal to such an extent that Ellie had to throw peas at him to get him to shut up.
‘God, you’re such a fussy eater,’ she sighed. ‘It’s a fucking piece of asparagus. Eat it.'
He picked up the asparagus and weighed it between his thumb and forefinger. It waved limply. ‘I don’t think it’s cooked properly.’
‘Just give it here,’ she said impatiently, and ate the asparagus with a threatening crunch. ‘Perfectly fine.’
‘Miller, you think Nando's counts as a fine dining.’
‘I’m going to tip this plate over your head in a second.’
They finished up the main courses and Ellie got stuck into her three desserts.
‘Mmm, try the mousse!’ she exclaimed. She dug out a spoonful and waved it at his face.
‘No thank you,’ he said.
‘Just try a bit.’
‘I don’t want to.’
‘One bite! It’s not going to kill you.’
She shoved the spoon forward. He dodged, and mousse smeared across his cheek.
‘Oh – sorry,’ she said, wiping it away with her fingers. ‘It’s just spreading, hang on…’
She took out her hanky, spat on it and leaned forward.
‘Miller,’ he said sternly, holding up a hand and wiping his cheek with the other. ‘Please.’
She slumped back in her seat next to him. He remained staring out through the peephole.
She finished eating and left the plates by the door, ready for Hardy to use if Stoke showed up. She wandered around the hotel room for a bit, variously trying to keep herself amused.
'I'm getting cabin fever in here,' she complained.
'It's barely been three hours.'
She rummaged through some drawers in the bathroom and came out with a disposable shower cap on her head. She bounced up and down on the bed for a bit and sighed.
'I forgot how boring holidays are without kids.'
'This isn't a holiday.'
'Hotel rooms, I mean. I'm used to kids ripping up the furnishings and trying to steal anything that isn't bolted down.'
She turned on the television.
‘Ooh, Harrrdy, look at the selection they’ve got!’ she exclaimed as she flicked through the channels. She came to a menu screen. ‘There’s even a pre-paid option. We can watch Finding Nemo! Ohhh, Fred would’ve loved this.'
She blanched suddenly.
‘Ooh – er. Oh dear. There’s an option to resume a film. One in the “Adult Entertainment” section. Must be from the previous occupants. Makes sense, I suppose, since this is the honeymoon suite. But really, you’d think it would be more likely that a horny single guy would -”
A chorus of moans suddenly filled the air.
‘Oh Jesus,’ Ellie said.
‘Miller,’ Hardy called, dragging out the last syllable of her name. ‘What’s happening?’
‘Yes! Yes! Fuck me harder!’
‘Oh Jesus!’
‘Oh God, yes! Yes!’
‘Millahr,’ he said, and the way he uttered the word seemed to bring out every last dreg of his Scottish ancestry.
‘I hit it accidentally! I didn’t mean to! I can’t -’
‘Oh yes! Oh God, yes! Right there! Don’t stop!’
‘MILLER!’
‘It’s not turning off!’ she shrieked, mashing every button she could find. ‘I – oh my God, that is a big penis!’
‘You animal! You -’
Hardy dragged himself away from his perch and was at her side in four long strides. While she fumbled desperately with the remote, he bent over and pulled the plug from the socket. The power died and the TV shut off.
Shell-shocked, Ellie sat on the bed while Hardy stomped back to his place on the chair.
‘Right,’ she said once she’d recovered. ‘So I guess we’re not watching television then.’
Too embarrassed to stay in the same room as him, Ellie retreated to the bathroom. ‘M’gonna have a bath!’ she yelled, then closed the door. She pressed her forehead to the door and closed her eyes.
‘Fucking hell,’ she muttered to herself.
Righting herself with a sigh, she turned the taps on full blast and filled the spa. She added as much bubble soap as was humanly possible, turned on the jets and slipped out of her robe and into the spa, trying to lose herself in steam and foam and hot water.
But her thoughts, inevitably, turned back to Hardy. She couldn’t help but be impressed by how unflappable he was. When he was on a case, he was like a blinkered horse. He saw nothing but the end goal. He barely seemed human sometimes; he was like a machine with one purpose. Solve the case. Solve the case. Do whatever it takes to solve the case.
In this case, “whatever it takes” meant “pretend Miller is your wife.” And that’s what he was doing. And he was nothing but professional about it, while she…
She realised her hand had drifted down to the space between her thighs. She let it linger there and lay back, biting her lip.
It’s been so long. It’s just been so long.
All the casual touches and hand-holding and pet names, getting a taste of all the intimacy she had been missing for so long… he could be so kind, so playful.
And then he would switch back to his usual grumpy arsehole detective self, like none of it had happened.
She withdrew her hand with a sudden splash and flung it out onto the edge of the spa. Water dripped onto the tiles and she gritted her teeth. She refused to let this happen. She wouldn’t let herself be gulled by this farcical intimacy. If he could turn it on and shut it off just as easily, so could she. If he could be nothing but professional, so could she. If he would do anything to solve this case, then god damn it she would too.
Some time later she emerged from the tub. Hardy was still on his perch, and as far as she could tell he hadn’t moved. He shifted subtly when he heard her come out, and his hands, which were bunched into fists on his thighs, stiffly unclenched.
‘Good spa?’ he asked.
‘Yeah.’ She folded her arms and swayed back and forth for a bit. ‘Sorry about before,’ she said awkwardly. ‘About the whole – erm…’
‘It’s all right, Miller. It was an accident.’
‘Miller,’ she echoed. ‘You should probably stop calling me that.’
‘Oh. Sorry. Ellie, then.’
She blinked. ‘No, I didn’t mean – I meant you have to get used to calling me Sue!’
‘Oh. Oh right, yes, of course.'
‘But you can,’ she amended quickly.
‘What?’
‘You can call me Ellie. The whole surname thing’s a bit daft now, really.’
‘Right.’
There was a pause.
‘So am I calling you Ellie or Sue?’ Hardy asked.
‘Um – Sue.'
‘Sue. Okay. Suppose it’s a good idea,’ he said. ‘Last thing we want is for “Miller” or “Hardy” to slip out. Jenkinson thinks Stoke might have planted spies in the building. Extra protection. We’ll have to make sure we don’t give anything away.’
‘No fear of that. You’ve been very thorough with this whole charade.’
‘It’s to keep us safe, Mil – Sue,’ he amended. ‘Stoke could be capable of anything.’
Nothing but professional, she reminded herself gloomily. He had not looked at her once throughout the exchange, but kept his gaze locked on the elevator through the peephole.
She made two cups of tea with the tiny hotel kettle. Sipping one of them, she smacked her lips and carried the second over to Hardy.
‘It’s green tea,’ she said as she offered it to him.
‘Thanks love,’ he murmured, taking it from her.
Ellie blinked. ‘Did you just call me love?’ she asked.
He glanced at her. Horror crept over his countenance. ‘You asked me to call you Sue!’
‘I said call me Sue, not love!’
‘I know, but I call Sue – you – my wife – I call you love, so it just slipped out!’
‘All right! I understand. I shouldn’t have made such a big deal about it.’
He turned his gaze back to the peephole. Ellie sat next to him. They sipped their tea together.
‘Is that what you used to call Tess?’ Ellie asked.
‘Hmm?’
‘Did you call Tess “love”? I’ve heard you say that to her, accidentally.’
He grunted and nodded. ‘Love, angel, darling… I called her lots of things. ’
‘So the way you treat me – Sue, I mean – is that how you used to treat your wife?’
‘Pretty much.’
She considered it for a moment. ‘You must have been a good husband.’
He grunted.
‘Do you mind if I ask… what happened between you? Between you and Tess?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘I know – I’m sorry. But I want to understand. I know all the awful stuff that happened with the pendant and Sandbrook, but - what happened before that? Was your marriage on the rocks before this happened? It can’t have come out of nowhere.’
She caught a flash of deep sadness in his eyes. ‘Things had been a little strained, I suppose,' he said quietly. 'A little stale. Nothing too serious, I thought. We’d been doing things together to “strengthen our marriage” as Tess said. You know… evening classes. Dancing. Cooking. So we could spend time together outside of work and home. I hated it, but I loved her, so I went along with it.'
'So... when you found out -'
'Total shock.'
'You never suspected?'
'No.'
'I'm sorry. That must have been hard.' After what had happened with herself and Joe, she could sympathise. 'But I can’t understand…’ she paused. ‘If you loved Tess and you treated her the way you treated me today… why did she do what she did? If she was just unhappy, fair enough. But why didn't she just talk to you about it? Why cheat? It doesn't make any sense to me.'
He looked at her sadly. ‘Not everyone’s like you, Ellie.’
He tried to resume his watch, but he was too troubled now. Passing his hands over his face, he closed his eyes. ‘I need to call Daisy,’ he said, and slumped forward. ‘Do you mind?’
‘No. No, go,’ Ellie said.
‘Thank you.’
She replaced him on the chair. Due to her diminished height, the position was a little more awkward for her and she had to strain to see. Hardy walked into the bathroom with his phone and closed the door.
She had enough experience with questioning people to know when they were hiding something. She knew there was something about the divorce that Hardy wasn't telling her. She wondered what it was.
After a minute she faintly heard the muffled sounds of his voice coming from the bathroom. She listened in and a smile softened her face.
He was so gentle when he spoke to Daisy. He laughed and even cracked jokes. She’d faintly wondered if the persona of loving husband he put on had been a complete fabrication, but his treatment of Daisy seemed to indicate that, if she really were his partner, he would be just as considerate, playful and doting as he had been today.
She squirmed in her seat. At that moment, the elevator light came on and the doors opened.
A well-groomed, moustachioed man in his mid-forties strode out. She recognised him as the elusive Stoke and her eyes widened.
‘Oh, bloody hell, it would be now,’ she groaned to herself. ‘Shit. Fuck. Bollocks!’
She leapt off the chair. Too afraid to call for Hardy lest Stoke hear her through the door, Ellie rapidly dragged the chair away, picked up the tray of dishes and flung the door open.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed as she nearly crashed into Stoke. ‘Oh, goodness, I'm sorry! I nearly knocked you out there, didn’t I?’
She laughed, covering her mouth with her free hand. Stoke, who had paused mid-step, looked at her with some surprise.
‘Gosh, this looks bad, doesn’t it?’ she said. ‘Me with all these empty dishes. But I promise you, I’m not the only one who ate them.’ She set the tray on the floor. ‘I can recommend the mud cake if you’re thinking of getting something for yourself. But steer clear of anything with asparagus in it. They’ve no idea how to cook it here.’
Stoke looked cautious, but somewhat intrigued by the curly-haired spectre before him. ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ he said, turning so that his body faced her. ‘Even in the restaurant downstairs I’m always hard-pressed to find any vegetables that are cooked halfway decent.’
‘You’ve been to the restaurant, then?’ Ellie said, mentally cheering that she’d managed to engage him in conversation. ‘Oh, Jude and I – my husband, that is – we were contemplating whether we should go there. This is our first time here. Our first night, even.’
‘Really? I’m something of a veteran, myself. The restaurant’s not too bad, as long as you stick to seafood. It’s about the only thing they can get right.’
'I'll have to remember that,' she said warmly. She extended a hand. 'I'm Sue. Sue Fawley.'
Stoke regarded her for a moment and delicately took her hand. 'Peter Stoke,' he replied. 'Are you in Budmouth long?'
'A week,' she replied. 'It's nice to finally meet someone else here! Everyone I've spoken to seems so snobby.'
'I'm glad to be the exception.'
He smiled at her, and she knew she'd won him over.
I'd like to see Mr. Stick-Up-His-Arse Professional Detective do this, Ellie thought.
So it was that ten minutes later, when Hardy opened the bathroom door and came inside, he found Ellie laying smugly on the bed, waiting for him.
'El - Sue?' he said. 'You're not at the door.'
'Oh, you didn't hear me? Well, I just bumped into one Mr. Peter Stoke. Had a bit of a chat with him.'
He blinked. 'He came past... while I...?'
'While you were talking to Daisy, yes. Through the powers of speech I found out four very interesting things. Number one, he's been in Budmouth for at least two weeks, twice as long as Jenkinson thought. Number two, he's definitely attending the ballroom dinner on Saturday. Number three, he's staying in apartment 1204 down the end of the hall. And number four, he hates asparagus too.'
'Oh Miller,' Hardy said, looking at her with sudden, fierce adoration. 'You are incredible.'
'I know,' she said.
He drilled her for every detail. The breakthrough swept him into a good mood and he chattered excitedly. They planned for the next day as they brushed their teeth together and readied for bed. She couldn't help but be infected by his enthusiasm.
She really did enjoy working with him, all things considered.
Ellie went to the bed and peeled back the covers. Still discussing what they would do tomorrow, Hardy went to the other side and, seemingly without thinking, peeled back the covers as well.
'Ahem,' Ellie said.
'What?' Hardy said. He recollected himself suddenly and jumped back from the bed. 'Oh - sorry. Wasn't thinking.'
He dragged his heels over to the tiny couch and folded himself onto it while Ellie demurely took her robe off and got into bed. She was wearing the least sexy pyjamas in the world - baggy and bright blue, with tiny yellow Tweety birds on them.
She glanced over at Hardy. He arranged a little blanket and tried to get comfortable. The couch was far too small for him, and his long legs stuck off the end.
'Night,' she said, and flicked the light off.
Hardy grunted. In the dark, she could hear him squirming and struggling to get comfortable. It seemed to be a fruitless mission.
At length, a deep sigh escaped him.
'Oh, all right!' Ellie said, turning the light back on. 'We'll share the bed. You can go on top of the covers.'
He jumped up and tried not to look too eager. 'You're sure?' he asked. 'If you'd rather I didn't...'
'The guilt will keep me awake if you don't.'
He clambered on the bed next to her, dressed in a grey t-shirt and pyjama pants, and arranged his blanket.
'Good?' she asked. He nodded and she turned the light off.
They lay side by side for a little bit. Ellie became painfully aware of the warmth and weight of his body. Her cheeks glowed with heat. Then he made the tiniest of movements, moved infinitesimally closer to her and she leapt out of the bed as if she'd been scalded. The light came back on.
'What is it?' Hardy asked.
Ellie hunted around the room. She came back with an armful of pillows and began arranging them on the bed. Hardy drooped.
'Is this really necessary?'
'Yes,' she replied.
She patted the pillows and stood back to admire her work. A veritable Great Wall of China now separated the two halves of the bed. Satisfied, she got in and the room turned dark once more.
'Well then,' Hardy said, his voice slightly muffled behind the wall of pillows. 'Goodnight Mrs Fawley.'
'Goodnight, Mr Fawley,' Ellie replied.
Nothing but professional, she told herself determinedly, and she closed her eyes.