Monty and Me. Louisa Bennet

look around, searching for the threat, ready to defend her.

      A man yells down the phone. ‘Sidebottom, get in here now!’

       Chapter Two

      If you asked Rose Sidebottom to describe herself she would say she was of average height with a forgettable face, had average mousy hair tied back in a plain ponytail, and graduated from police college with an average pass.

      However, there were two things about her that were far from average. One was her embarrassing surname. She’d heard every single bottom joke ever invented. Her school days had been plagued by taunts, police college with practical jokes, and it was now proving a handicap in her struggle to be taken seriously as a trainee detective constable. The other unusual thing about Rose was her instinctive ability to know when somebody was lying. A tingling feeling, much like pins and needles, would spread from her hands and feet all over her body. As a child, it had sucked big time. Rose knew from a very young age that there was no Father Christmas or Tooth Fairy, that thunder wasn’t God moving His furniture, that at twelve her best friend had betrayed her secret crush on a boy to a gang of girls who hated her, and that her father was cheating on her mother. Life would have been so much easier simply not knowing.

      However, as a police officer, her in-built lie-detector had sent her conviction rate through the roof, and at one domestic incident, she’d saved the life of a woman whose polite and helpful boyfriend had claimed all was well, as the woman lay bruised and bloodied in the back room. Her skill for ferreting out the truth helped her earn a coveted position on the Major Crime Team, much to the surprise and envy of her uniformed colleagues.

      But it hadn’t saved her from committing the mother of all cock-ups earlier that evening, which is why she now stood in front of DCI Craig Leach, wishing the ground would open up and swallow her. Her boss sat behind his messy desk; his shaved snooker-ball head welded to a heavy-set, bull-like body without, so it appeared, a neck.

      Rose tried not to fidget.

      ‘Do you realise what you’ve done?’ he said, his voice a low rumble, his Mancunian accent as strong as ever, even after twenty years working down South. He didn’t wait for her answer. He yelled, red-faced.

      ‘You’ve blown Operation Nailgun!’ Boom! Like a volcano erupting.

      Nailgun was a Drugs Squad operation.

      He continued, ‘DI Morgan’s livid, and I don’t blame him. Five months of surveillance up in smoke!’

      The flats of his fat-fingered hands slammed down on the desk, the piles of files quivering. Rose jumped, and knew that through the glass wall behind her, DI Pearl heard every word. Why was he still here? They’d been working non-stop on the Salt case all weekend. Everyone else had gone home to get some much needed rest.

      ‘Sir, I had no idea who he was. I’m not involved in Operation Nailgun.’

      ‘You walked straight past two undercover detectives in their car, and then Gary and Meg in the pub. They couldn’t believe it, and nor can I. What are you? Blind?’

      ‘Sir, I barely know Gary and Meg.’

      The Drugs Squad was on level four, Major Crime on two.

      Rose naturally spoke quietly, with a soft West Country accent, unwilling to engage in the loud banter and often coarse language of her fellow detectives. She knew Leach found her voice irritatingly mouse-like, so she raised it as best she could. But it sounded more like a croak.

      ‘I stopped at the pub to have a quick drink on my way home. To be honest, sir, I was a bit shaken up.’ She paused. Was she sounding weak?

      Leach nodded. ‘Go on.’

      ‘Sir, he started chatting me up. I was flattered. He’s a good-looking bloke. Charming.’

      ‘Ray Summers? The charming bastard deals in Class A drugs. The real nasty stuff. He’s … no, he was our only lead in an international drugs trafficking ring. Summers was meeting the local gang leader tomorrow. One more day and we’d have had those scumbags behind bars. Do you see what you’ve done?’

      ‘I’m sorry, sir.’ Close to tears, she stared at the floor.

      ‘What the hell did you tell him?’

      ‘Nothing, sir. I didn’t even tell him I was a police officer.’

      Revealing her job sent any potential boyfriend running for the hills. It was a more effective turn-off than body odour, flatulence or a history of chain-saw massacres.

      ‘Well, you blew their cover, didn’t you! They raid his warehouse a half hour later and find a big fat nothing. No drugs, no computers, no financials, and he’s disappeared.’

      Rose swallowed hard. Her career was about to end before it had even begun, because of one stupid mistake. Why-oh-why hadn’t she just picked up Monty and taken a bottle of plonk home with her instead?

      ‘How did he know you were a detective?’

      ‘When I went to the loo, I left my handbag behind. He must’ve gone through it and found my warrant card.’

      Leach raised surprisingly bushy eyebrows, given his scalp was so hairless. They reminded Rose of furry caterpillars on a white cabbage. ‘Never let your warrant card out of your sight, Sidebottom. This is your last chance.’

      ‘Sorry, sir, it won’t happen again.’

      ‘Did he at least say anything that could help us find him?’

      ‘He was on the phone when I got back from the loo. He ended the call when he saw me, but I heard him say something about a shipment. That it had to be stopped. Then he made his excuses and left in a hurry. I didn’t put two and two together until Meg came over and gave me an ear-bashing.’

      Leach had his hands clasped together on the desk so tightly that his puffy knuckles turned purple.

      ‘So, the Super chews my ear off, Morgan wants you back on the beat, and God knows what your team will think of you. Great result!’ He threw his weight into the back of his chair. The bags under his eyes were darker and puffier than usual. She felt sorry for him. ‘If your colleagues don’t trust you, you’re no use to them or me. You need to fix this. Start by apologising to Morgan and don’t put a foot wrong on the Salt case, you hear?’

      ‘Yes, sir.’

      Leach placed his hands behind his head and studied her flushed face.

      ‘Rose, are you sure you really want to do this job?’ His voice had softened. ‘We get to see people at their worst. Doing terrible things. Murder, torture, abuse. It’s long hours, the public and the media generally hate us, and it’s hard on relationships.’

      Rose glanced at his ring finger where a wedding band had once been, leaving a permanent dent in his pudgy skin.

      ‘Yes, sir.’ She looked straight into his eyes. ‘I’ve always wanted to be a detective.’

      Leach tilted his head to one side. ‘God, you remind me of Kay when she was your age. Stubborn and naïve.’ He smiled, which was rare and therefore unnerving. His teeth were surprisingly small for such a large head. Like baby teeth. ‘She found it tough going at first, you know. She was sensitive, found the blood and guts hard to deal with. But she was dogged. Wouldn’t give up. Became the best DI I’ve ever known.’

      ‘I want to be like Kay, sir. I know I can do it.’

      Leach nodded as he stood. ‘Maybe. But this is a big cock-up, Rose. I’m increasing your supervision and assigning you to an experienced DI …’

      Opening his office door, Leach beckoned Dave Pearl inside.

      A slick dresser, fancied by most of the female officers and popular with the lads, he sauntered into the office