Friday Night Frights 8

Chapter 8

   Billie vomited as he turned the corner from Roots Opticians. The eyeballs bored into his mind, invading his senses. Who is Heather? And why does she have a pair of eyeballs in her handbag? He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The walk to the NCP car park was slow and nauseous. His body slid smoothly into a brown Ford Cortina he inherited from his father. The smell of the leather and pine air freshener settled his stomach. He drove around the Roots Opticians building and spotted the front entrance and the back one.

   
   His stomach gurgled. The thought of food made him feel worse, but if he was going to tail her, he had to eat. He parked on a single yellow line and ran across the street. He entered the Roots building through the back entrance. Scanning the row of sandwiches, he picked a cheese and pickle one, an all-day breakfast one, a bottle of water and a mango smoothie. As he turned to pay for them, he was surprised to see Heather paying for a stick of gum. She turned towards him and smiled.

   
   “DI Turner, I thought you’d left.”

  
    “Yeah, I did. I thought I’d get some food before going home.” He noticed her coat and handbag. “Are you done for the day?”

   
   “Yes, I am. Early shift today.”

   
    He nodded nervously.

   
   “Would you like to join me for a drink?”

  
    “Sure. Just the one though.”

   
    They walked out together into the cloudy day. Billie pointed towards his car.

   
   “My car’s right there. I’ll give you a lift to the pub.”

   
   “There’s no need. Mine’s in the NCP car park.”

   
   “Then let me walk you to it.”

   
   “What a gentleman.”

   
   He laughed to himself. No one’s ever called him that.

   
   “No, Heather, just old school manners.”

   
   “Ah, my car’s just there.”

  
    She unlocked a dark blue BMW with a beep. Billie noted the license plate numbers. His memory was as sharp as it was when he was a young twenty five year old sergeant.

  
    “I’ll meet you at William the Fourth.”

   
   “OK, see you soon.”

   
   Ten minutes later, they were both seated with a pint in Billie’s usual spot. He drained his first pint and signalled to the bar tender for another. Heather took a sip and put it aside.

   
   “Something wrong with your drink?”

   
   “No, it’s not my favourite.”

   
   “What would you like instead?”

   
   She got up and removed her purse from her handbag.

   
   “Don’t get up, I’ll be back.”

  
    He watched her as she walked towards the bar. Something inside him stirred again. He noticed how the pale blue V-neck jumper showed a hint of a cleavage. How the navy pencil skirt cinched in her waist. He swallowed back his need for her. A second beer appeared before him. He drank it slowly imagining himself inside her. She came back with a glass of white wine.

   
   “So, Heather, are you single?”

   
   She laughed out loud. Touching his hand she smiled that smile.

   
   “Detective …”

   
   “Billie, you can call me Billie.”

   
   “Billie, yes I am.”

   
   “It’s hard to imagine.”

   
   “Why is that?”

  
    “A beautiful woman like you? I would never have imagined it.”

  
    “You can imagine it more if you let me cook you dinner.”

   
   Billie’s eyes brightened. Dinner with an irresistible hunter. An unmissable opportunity to look into her nest and see what he can fine.

  
    “What would you like to eat?”

   
   “Surprise me.”

  
    Heather looked at his well-groomed greying brown hair, his full lips and steel blue eyes.

   
   “I can’t wait.”