A Capital Crime
“Stiff-necked and befuddled, with a foul taste in his mouth, it was a few seconds before he remembered: Pete’s dinner. Oh, hell. He’d meant to telephone Doris to apologise as soon as he got in, and he’d only sat down for a moment …What time was it? Past eleven. The footsteps in the kitchen were heavier than Monica’s, so it must be Pete. She must have come in already and gone upstairs to bed. Why hadn’t she woken him? The sitting room light was on, so she must have realised he was there.He was ju...st about to get up and go through to the kitchen when Pete appeared, larger and beefier than ever. He was still in uniform with a bottle in his hand and a loose co-ordination to his movements which – together with his general air of beery belligerence – suggested that he was, if not actually drunk, then certainly well on the way.‘Hello,’ said Stratton, cautiously. ‘Pete, I—’‘Hello, Dad. Want one?’ Pete held up the bottle in one hand, and attempted to point to it with the other, but missed.Stratton, realising that he did very much want one, and deciding that it couldn’t make a bad situation worse, and might even help a bit, said evenly, ‘Yes, thanks.’Pete withdrew and, after some banging about, returned with a second bottle.MoreLess
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