Laura Bambrey Books

It's all about the books... News. Reviews. Interviews

Wednesday, 1 February 2017

Weekly Series: Doomed Date Diaries: Part 9

Part 9

Doomed Date Diaries by Bethany Quinn

21. Steve

It was Saturday night. It was raining. I was covered in cheap, red wine- and someone had ripped the wing mirror off my car. To tell you the truth, I was having a little cry. It had been quite a day.

When I looked up there was a police officer staring at me. He could see the damage to my car. He didn't seem at all pleased. I wound down my window.

'Hello,' he said.
'Hello,' I said.
'You weren't thinking about driving were you?'
'As a matter of fact I was. Why?'
'Have you been drinking?'
'No, I haven't,' I replied.
'I can smell alcohol on your breath.'
I rolled my eyes. Could my evening get any worse? 'It's not actually on my breath,' I said. 'It's all over me.'
'Really?' He said flatly.
Stupidly I ploughed on. 'I just had a drink thrown in my face. I was telling a client that his girlfriend had left him. He didn't take it very well. That's what I do for a living.'
'What, have drinks thrown at you?'
'No,' I said. 'Split people up.'
And that's how I ended up in the back of a police car with Constables Hogget and Jones.

The roadside breathalyzer test came back with a big fat zero. I hadn't touched a drop. Both police officers looked genuinely disappointed.
'So who threw the wine?' Hogget asked.
'Why? Are you going to arrest him?' I said.
He gave that some thought. 'Depends. What kind of wine was it?'
'A Merlot, I think.'
Jones started taking notes.
'Country of origin?'
'I don't know,' I said testily. 'I was too busy getting soaked to ask.'
Hogget carefully sniffed the air. 'Smells like New World to me.'
'I'm getting dense raspberry notes and smoky tannins.' Jones added.
'Aged in oak you think?'
'Definitely New Zealand.'
'A 2003 perhaps?'
'Have you two quite finished? I said archly.
Hogget and Jones looked sheepish.
'Sorry. It's been a quiet shift and you're the most fun we've had in the back of the car for ages.'

Constable Jones walked me back to my car. He clearly had something on his mind.
'So, do you really split people up for a living?'
'Yes,' I said, unlocking the door and getting in.
'Oh,' he said.
'Why?' I said.
He shifted his weight uneasily. 'You don't happen to have a business card do you?'

No comments:

Post a Comment