Against the Clock

a little bit, but it was too heavy to lift with his leg alone. He took his foot out, reached down, put both hands under it and lifted, rolling it over.
‘Jesus Christ,’ he said, jumping back.
At the top of the package, a face with dead, staring eyes looked out at them.
‘Call the polis,’ Lenny said, but Sam had already turned away and was throwing up his breakfast onto the sand.
‘From the phone box on the main road,’ Sam said when he was finished. ‘I’m not getting involved.’
‘Bit late for that, pal. But see that fake Irish accent you put on when we’re making prank calls?’
‘Aye.’
‘Use that one.’

Two
‘Look, don’t take this the wrong way, but have you put on weight?’ Detective Chief Inspector Harry McNeil looked at his wife, who was seven months pregnant.
Detective Sergeant Alex Maxwell was standing looking out of their living room window. ‘I had a dream last night that I was eating a giant marshmallow. If you find a pillow missing, I’ve got it up my dress.’
He grinned and smiled at her and her baby bump. ‘That’s swell.’
‘Oh, shut up, McNeil. I’ve heard all your jokes. And so has Amy.’ She ran a hand over her stomach and drank from a cup of green tea that tasted like sewage. She looked at her husband. ‘I’m bored being at home, Harry. Take me with you.’
Harry was putting his Apple watch on. ‘As much as I’d love to, sweetheart, you have to rest. Doctor’s orders, remember? That’s why you’re on maternity leave.’
‘What does he know? It’s too early for maternity leave. I could have gone another month. Six weeks maybe. Hell, I could have given birth at my desk.’
‘If we hadn’t had that wee scare, then I would agree with you, but young Amy there is busy playing about with your insides and now you have to rest.’
‘Jesus. Make it sound like a horror movie.’
He pulled a face and hunched over like Quasimodo. ‘Sorry, young miss.’
‘Tell me when you’re going to start your impression.’
Harry straightened up again. ‘You’re so funny. I would put you over my knee and skelp your arse if –’
‘If I wouldn’t break the chair.’
‘If I didn’t love you so much, I was going to say.’
‘Sure you were.’
‘Seriously, what are your plans for today?’ He pulled his jacket off the back of one of their dining chairs and slipped it on, patting his pockets for his car keys.
‘Oh, maybe go for a spa day, then have lunch with the Queen. My diary’s quite packed.’
He stood looking at her.
She gave a sad smile. ‘Sorry. I’m going to struggle down the stairs and toddle along to the supermarket.’
‘We’re up three flights. Please be careful.’ He looked at her, waiting for her to confirm that she would indeed be looking after herself.
‘I will. You go and enjoy yourself on the beach with your friends.’
‘Hardly a day out when there’s a body down there. And on a Saturday morning too. I was going to take you out for a wee drive, but maybe later. Or tomorrow.’
She held on to the mug with both hands. ‘That would be nice.’
She turned away from him, looking out the window again, at the bowling club where her husband had been having a few drinks the night before, without her. She had made him go out for a few. No point in them both missing out on a relaxing Friday night, and God knew he needed a break from her, what with all the moaning she’d been doing recently, and shouting and cursing…
She realised he had left, vaguely remembering him saying goodbye, telling her he loved her. There were tears running down her face and she didn’t know where they had come from.
Alex watched Harry as he crossed over to her red Audi – his now, since she couldn’t drive. Theirs, now they were married. She wanted to open the window, shout out, I love you! But she stood there looking down at him instead.
Then the little red car was away and she was left alone once again. She’d thought they would try to do something fun this weekend, but the anonymous phone call to the police had put paid to their plans.
Chance, her stepson, would be coming to stay tomorrow; he was on a week’s leave from duties as a uniformed constable in Glasgow. She was looking forward to seeing him again.
Everything was going right in her life except for a couple of small things: her parents still didn’t want anything to do with her because she’d married Harry, even though she was going to have their grandchild, and she was convinced her husband was going to leave her for the new DS he was partnered with. Lillian O’Shea. A red-haired Irish leprechaun. Although her hair wasn’t flame red or anything. And she was considerably bigger than a leprechaun. But she was young, smiled a lot and had a better personality than Alex had these days.
‘You’re a silly wee besom, Alex Maxwell,’ she chided herself. She was officially Alex McNeil now but had kept her maiden name for work, and it was still strange to think of herself as matriarch of the McNeil clan.
She put her cup away in the kitchen and looked for a jacket. Nothing too light and nothing too heavy. Spring was round the corner but hadn’t sprung yet. No doubt she’d be sweating like a French hoor by the time she got down the stairs but then freezing her tits off when she got outside.
The doc had told her to be active, and Harry seemed to think that this meant sexually active, but she had told him that it was more of a twice round the block sort of deal, not knickers off twice a night.
She loved Harry so much and she would try for him, but sex was the last thing on her mind right now. Lillian O’Shea was the newest member of their team, supposedly on temporary maternity leave cover, and though she trusted Harry, there was