Detective-inspector White took off his coat as he entered the kitchen, shaking it out with the door still open. “Beryl? I'm home.” He hung the coat over the hook on the back of the door and put a copy of last week's Times underneath it to stop the drips going on the linoleum. He levered off his shoes and padded into the hall to fetch his slippers.
The sound of a family game show came from the living room and h popper his head inside. Beryl looked up.
“Cameron! There you are. I was getting worried.” She pulled herself out of the chair and gave him a peck on the cheek. “I didn't hear you come in.”
“I came in the back.” He pulled her into a hug. “I got soaked just walking up the path. It's a filthy night. It's raining stair rods out there. I'm glad I'm not on night duty.”
“We should have got that garage built when we had the chance.” Beryl squeezed past him, heading for the kitchen.
He followed. “It would have been another pound a week on the mortgage. We couldn't afford it.”
“You were a constable then. Now you're an inspector. Surely you could manage it now? And perhaps a little conservatory on the back?”
“I wouldn't dare, love. I'm too close to retirement to take on that sort of commitment.”
“You're on the wrong side of the law, love. I saw on the telly they've found a crystal meth lab in Chervil Close. Two hundred and fifty pounds of fine crystal, they said, street value into five figures.”
White frowned. “Chervil Close? I was there today. I didn't see a meth lab.”