Free Human Frailty, a Detective Mike Bridger novel by Mark Bredenbeck Page B

table
however told him a different story.
    'Out with the girls, don't wait up', was
scrawled onto the back of a used envelope in Laura's familiar
handwriting.
    With no pleasantries it was plain she was
still upset with him.
    Look on the bright side; he told himself, at
least she left you a note so things cannot be that bad.
    Whatever her mood was, he had the night to
himself, again. Looking in the freezer he found what he wanted,
placed the frozen meal in the microwave and set the dial. He went
to the cupboard and found the bottle of Jameson, poured a generous
two fingers adding nothing and went out onto the deck ignoring the
cold breeze.
    Bit late for Hair of the Dog, but what the
hell, he thought, at least it will sort out the hangover.
    He let the amber liquid slide down his
throat, enjoying the warm feeling. He felt a slight burn as it hit
his empty stomach. Bridger preferred the Irish whiskey as opposed
to Scotch as it had a lighter taste. There were reasons for this,
something to do with the way they made it. He tried to remember the
long ago tasting session where he had learned of the difference,
but could not recall. All he remembered was that they spelt the
Scotch version Whisky, and the Irish was Whiskey. Ireland having
been credited with inventing it, the Irish monks were first to
discover the pleasures back in the 12th century.
    He cupped the tumbler in his hands and
looked out towards the windswept harbor in the distance, trying not
to think of work or his home life, both with their trials. Taking
another hit of the warm amber liquid, he let it sit for a second on
his tongue before swallowing, the peaty taste becoming evident.
    He was at the end of first day in his
new rank and he did not feel any better about himself. Sometimes he
wondered why he put in the effort. The older he got the more self
doubt had been creeping into his thoughts. Ever since he had put
himself up for promotion, the thoughts had intensified. He guessed
it was comparing yourself with your colleagues, always seeing
someone else ’ s work record compared with your
own.
    Trying to study for the promotion exams was
tough as well. He had not had to rote learn anything since his days
as a trainee detective and it was pretty taxing.
    He realised in that process that he had few
close friends in the job, if any. He had only been able to come up
with a couple of names to act as referees in the selection process.
He wondered if that was the same for most men his age. He had never
been any good at nurturing friendships and it seemed the older he
got the more introverted he became.
    Having to sift through your accomplishments
in life in order to satisfy the interview panel was also a chore.
He had been weeks preparing his CV, trying to come up with examples
of his work in the past five years that best fitted the desirable
qualities that the interview panel would be looking for.
    He had tried talking to Laura about it, but
the Police promotions framework was slightly different from the
civilian sector, so she had no real understanding of what he was
trying to accomplish.
    She had thought that you promoted through
the ranks on a time served basis, ending your career at the top of
the pile. Well she knew different now, he had spent hours at a time
in the spare room they used as an office studying or preparing
documents. He had been surprised as anyone to get the job, even
though he was the only applicant.
    Bridger just hoped he had made the right
choice, taking on the extra responsibility.
    Well it is a bit late to change your mind
now, he thought. I will just have to get on with it and see what
happens.
    He checked his cell phone, he had no missed
calls or text messages, and there were not any more messages from
Jane. Maybe she got the message and had decided to leave their
occasional fling just that, occasional.
    He felt a slight relief.
    One thing the job had taught him over the
years was how to separate his emotions; he had become adept at
putting them