Free Lorimer and Brightman - 08 - Sleep Like the Dead. By Alex Gray by Alex Gray Page A

wondered at the chemistry that had brought them together and the bond that held them now. Okay they’d had their ups and downs but each storm had been weathered: the nights of sobbing into her pillow after each miscarriage, the bereavements as sharp as if these poor half-formed babies had been family members already; the endless weeks when she hardly saw him during a difficult murder case; the months of separation when she had left him to work in America. Somehow each of these things had made their marriage more secure. Or was it that their need for one another was deeper than mere desire?
    A lift of his eyebrows as he turned to look at her made Maggie’s cheeks glow.
    ‘How about some food now? Dragging a poor man off to bed before he has a chance to eat his dinner!’ He gave a little laugh then, fastening his jeans, came over and bent to kiss her gently. ‘Thanks for starters,’ he murmured in a tone that had Maggie wanting to pull him back into bed again. ‘Ow!’ she exclaimed, sitting up abruptly. ‘Cramp in my toes!’ she added.
    ‘Come on, stand up and it’ll be better.’
    He lifted her out of bed, his hands warm against her naked flesh, holding her against him for a long moment. ‘Right,’ he slapped her bottom gently. Now I really need some food. See you downstairs.’ Then, releasing her, he picked up a discarded T-shirt from the floor and was gone. Maggie flexed her foot, willing her toes to uncurl again. She hobbled across the room, pulled her cotton dressing gown from the back of the door and slipped into the shower room, glad of the cool shower tray beneath her feet. Minutes later she was dressed and heading back down to the kitchen, her hair wrapped in a towel. There was no sign of Bill but the open door suggested that they were eating out of doors this evening. She yanked off the towel, draping it on the back of a chair to dry then pulled her fingers through her long, dark curls. It would dry in minutes out in the garden. ‘How was your day?’ she asked. Her husband made a face, his mouth still full of food.
    `Elm, good as that, eh? Or was it murder?’ she joked. ‘Had a call from Solly,’ Lorimer began, then, as Maggie shot
    him a look, he began to relate what the psychologist had told him.
    ‘That’s peculiar, surely,’ Maggie said at last. ‘With Solly’s track
    record the force should be letting him know he’s a part of any
    investigation into multiple murders. Come on,’ she reasoned, ‘he’s
    been feted by the media up here, so why should another man’s mistake affect our Solly?’
    Lorimer shrugged and made a face. Not fair, is it? But I can’t see what I can do about it other than have a wee word with Joyce Rogers. It’ll have been decided at a policy meeting. Still,’ he went on, ‘it would have been nice to have had some prior warning. A memo from on high, at least. Solly seemed really hurt.’ ‘Is it true what the papers are saying, then?’ Maggie wondered aloud. ‘Do they really think that psychological profiling has had its day?’ ‘I hope not,’ Lorimer replied. He ran his fingers through his dark hair. `Och, I can remember when I was completely against it myself. Thought it was interference from outside.’
    ‘But that was before you saw the great Doctor Brightman in action,’ Maggie laughed. ‘Aye, so it was. Though I wouldn’t really say Solly had been guilty of a lot of running around. It’s more the way he sits back and views a case from different sorts of angles. Working with statistics and maps and things. Almost scientific,’ he added in a mumble.
    Maggie gave a hoot of laughter. Now that is an admission, Detective Chief Inspector. Almost scientific.’
    ‘Anyway, he’s not likely to be involved in the murder case we’re investigating just now. Unless there’s a mad gunman about to hit the Glasgow streets.’
    The hit man tried again to turn the key in the lock but it was no use. Whoever had been responsible for breaking into Brogan’s pad