"I'll just be a moment."
Was just rushing upstairs to call Shazzer with the ground-breaking news that maybe they are not the unattainable strategic adversary aliens after all, but just like us, when the phone rang downstairs.
Could hear Mark talking. He seemed to be on for ages, so could not ring Shazzer and eventually, thinking, 'bloody inconsiderate', went down to the kitchen.
"It's for you," he said, holding out the phone. "They've got him."
Felt as if I'd been hit in the stomach. Mark held my hand as I took the phone, shaking.
"Hello, Bridget, DI Kirby here. We're holding a suspect over the bullet. We've obtained a DNA match with the stamp and the cups."
"Who is it?" I whispered.
"Does the name Gary Wilshaw mean anything to you?" Gary! Oh my God. "He's my builder."
Turned out Gary was wanted for a number of petty thefts from houses he'd been doing up, and was arrested and fingerprinted early this afternoon.
"We have him in custody," said DI Kirby. "We haven't obtained a confession as yet but, now we can go ahead on the connection, I'm pretty confident. We'll let you know and then you'll be safe to go back to your flat."
Midnight. My flat. Oh blimey. DI Kirby called back half an hour later and said Gary had made a tearful confession, and we could go back to the flat, not to worry about anyt hing, and remember there was a panic button in the bedroom.
We finished the chicken then went over to my place, lit the fire, and watched Friends, then Mark decided to have a bath. The doorbell rang when he was in there. "Hello?"
"Bridget, it's Daniel."
"Um."
"Can you let me in? It's important."
"Hang on, I'll come down," I said, glancing towards the bathroom. Thought I'd better sort things out with Daniel but did not want to risk incensing Mark. The minute I opened the front door I knew I'd done the wrong thing, Daniel was drunk.
"So you put the police on me, did you?" he slurred.
I started inching backwards away from him while maintaining eye contact, as if he were a rattlesnake.
"You were naked under that coat. You . . ."
Suddenly there was a great bounding of footsteps on the stairs, Daniel looked up and - wham - Mark Darcy had socked him in the mouth, and he was slumped against the front door, blood coming out of his nose.
Mark looked rather startled. "Sorry," he said. "Um." Daniel started trying to get up and Mark rushed over and helped him up. "Sorry about that," he said again politely. "Are you all right, can I get you, um ... ?"
Daniel just rubbed his nose and looked dazed. "I'll be off then," he mumbled resentfully.
"Yes," said Mark. "I think that's best. Just make sure you leave her alone. Or, um, I'll have to, you know, do it again."
"Yup. Right," said Daniel obediently.
Once back in the flat, doors barred, it got pretty wild on the bedroom front. Could not bloody believe it when the doorbell rang again.
"I'll go," said Mark with a heavy air of manly responsibility, wrapping a towel round him. "It'll be Cleaver again. You stay here."
Three minutes later there was bounding of feet outside and the bedroom door burst open. Nearly screamed when DI Kirby put his head round. Pulled the blankets up to my chin, and followed his eye, scarlet with embarrassment, along the trail of clothes and underwear leading to the bed. He closed the door behind him.
"You're all right now," DI Kirby said in a calm, reassuring voice as if I were about to jump off a tall building. "You can tell me, you're safe, I've got people holding him outside."
"Who - Daniel?"
"No, Mark Darcy."