‘Oscar. It’s over,’ said Erika. She was joined by Peterson.
‘Come on man,’ said Peterson. ‘Where are you going to go? Just give up and come with us.’
‘You doing the brother act on me?’ asked Oscar. ‘You think cos we’re both black I’m going to give up out of solidarity.’
Oscar moved quickly across the smooth asphalt where the rainwater was gathering in pools like mercury, and went to the edge of the roof. He placed one foot on the raised edge.
‘Stop!’ said Erika.
‘My life is over!’ he shouted. ‘What have I got to look forward to?’
‘You’ve got kids and a wife!’ said Peterson.
“My kids, my wife,’ said Oscar bowing his head for a moment and wiping his eyes. ‘My kids…’
‘Please, just come with us,’ said Erika.
‘I never meant any of this to happen,’ said Oscar. ‘I know it sounds trite, but I didn’t. Things just got out of hand.’
He looked like he was about to relent and he took his foot down off the edge. He turned to them.
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Okay.’
‘Okay, good, just come towards us,’ started Erika. Suddenly Oscar seized the raised edge of the roof and hoisted himself up. He stood with his arms outstretched, leaned forward and threw himself off the edge.
‘Jesus! No!’ cried Erika. They rushed forward and looked down at the road far below. The traffic had stopped, horns were honking, and there was a faint scream. Below, the made out the small broken form of Oscar Browne lying in the road.
Epilogue
‘I’m only here because my flat is a crime scene,’ said Erika. Peterson opened the front door to his flat and they went inside.
‘It should warm up in a minute,’ he said, moving to the hall cupboard and turning on the central heating. They had spent several hours in soaking wet clothes, giving statements and a full account of the time leading up to the death of Oscar Browne. Vauxhall Bridge Road had been closed shortly afterwards, and there had been traffic chaos. The national news channels had been asked not to broadcast pictures from the accident without pixellating the body and the surrounding area.
Peterson went to the bathroom and grabbed a couple of towels, throwing one over Erika.
‘These stink of mould,’ said Erika.
‘But their dry!’ he moved to Erika and rubbed at her back vigorously. ‘I’d do it for Moss and any other copper, just keeping you warm,’ he added.
‘Well, it’s not working,’ she grinned.
‘Ah, there we are, can you hear the water in the radiators?’
‘Yes. Do you have any whisky, that works too.’
She through to the living room and Erika peeled off her coat, found two glasses and a bottle of whisky on the counter next to the toaster and poured two large measures. She drank half of one and then topped it up. Peterson came through a few minutes later wearing a clean dry tracksuit. He chucked one at her, and she went to the bathroom and got changed.
She stared at herself in the mirror. She didn’t look as bad as she thought. Exhausted, and pale from hunger, yes, but her face had something she hadn’t seen in a long time. She looked hopeful, and perhaps even a little bit happy.
‘How can you feel happy after the day you’ve had?’ she asked her reflection. ‘What a case! And it all could have been avoided. Accidental death. Would have saved so much heart ache…’
She stripped off her wet clothes and splashed her face with water. There was a clanking crash from outside the bathroom and she heard a yell.
‘You all right?’ she shouted.
‘Yeah, just stubbed my bloody toe!’ he shouted. She couldn’t help but grin. She pulled on the dry clothes and towelled her hair, then came out of the bathroom.
Peterson was waiting with her whisky, she took it and he held his up to toast.
‘What a cluster fuck of a day.’
‘Yes, a cluster fuck,’ she agreed. They took a long drink. There was a knock at the door, and he went to open it. He came back with Moss who was carrying a large pizza.
‘How did you know?’ asked Erika who suddenly realised she was starving.
‘We have a tradition, well we used to have it more regularly that we order pizza after solving a case.’
‘I like that tradition,’ said Erika. ‘Good work today, both of you,’ she added.
Peterson went to the cupboard and pulled down a glass and started to fill it with whisky for Moss.
‘Oh, not for me,’ she said pulling off her coat.
‘Come on you can have one. And if anyone stops you, your a bloody copper!’ said Peterson.
‘No, I can’t.’
‘You can’t?’ asked Erika. They both looked at Moss.
‘Hang on,’ said Peterson. ‘You’re not the type to turn down a drink.’
‘I wasn’t supposed to say anything, shit, I’m pregnant.’
Peterson and Erika both screamed with delight and bowled into her for a hug.
‘How long, I mean how, when do you have it?’
‘I’ve only just found out that I’m six weeks,’ said Moss.
‘I take it, it was planned?’ said Peterson. ‘Course it was bloody planned, don’t you know anything about lesbian sex!?’
‘Course,’ he said.
‘Yes, I’m sure you watch enough lesbian porn...’
‘Enough!’ grinned Peterson.
‘I think I told you that me and Celia wanted to have one each, and we, well, I just thought it’s now or never so we arranged a donor and we went into it with low expectations and here I am, I’m going to be a Mum.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ said Erika, hugging her.
‘Thanks,’ she said. ‘I’m excited and terrified, and I’m now eating for two.’
She opened the box and they all grabbed a slice of pizza.
‘You’ve always eaten for two,’ said Peterson. They bit down on their pizza and savoured the taste.
‘So, what’s happening with you two?’ asked Moss through a mouthful of pizza.
‘Oh nothing,’ said Erika.
’Nope, we’re cool though,’ said Peterson.
‘You just concentrate on eating for three,’ said Erika. Moss got up and went to the sink to grab a glass of water.