Getting Acquainted

Chapter Thirty-Six

As soon as Margaret was out of earshot, CI Wilson opened his mouth. "How and where did he get a hold of Margaret Maxwell? Have you read anything about it?" he asked his wife. "You read those magazines."

"She's not a favourite with the magazines," said Mrs. Wilson. "I read somewhere that she refuses to do interviews and if she absolutely has to, then only about work. So I haven't read anything about this. But I heard from a friend that she frequently stayed with that rich man who was murdered recently by his daughter. My friend lives in the same village. It's not far from here."

"A rich man who was murdered?" said Superintendent Brown, who remembered Hargreaves. "Wilson, who do we send to deal with murders? That are committed not far from here?" He began to see the light. Although he would not often send in his DCI for the more menial jobs, in this potentially high-profile case he had thought it wisest to put a senior officer on a single case, rather than have him handle several in a supervising capacity.

"Scott?"

"Exactly. And DS Randall, to whom they're now talking." It was a very bright light now.

Superintendent Brown would like to see if DCI Scott was also sporting a wedding ring, like Ms Maxwell. It would not surprise him very much now. If he did not have one yet, Scott should get one soon, because if his eyes had not deceived him, the woman had just pinched his bottom. Why would she, if she was married, do that to someone she was not married to, or she was never going to be married to?

He did not mention any of these suspicions and observations to the others at the table, in case he was wrong.

He kept an eye on Scott when the couple returned. Indeed, the DCI had a ring too. When his superior glanced at it with a questioning stare, he gave an almost imperceptible nod and shrug.

It was always nice to be informed of these things, in whichever way, Brown thought with a shake of the head. So, the lad was married -- to this woman here, one would assume and hope, given their behaviour -- but he did not seem very keen on telling anyone.

Now that he thought about it, it was not so strange to see the DCI with a woman, although the man would not have managed to keep them at bay for this long if he had been part of the uniformed department. The ladies always liked men in uniforms. Still, Brown supposed that the DCI in plain clothes would be just as capable at attracting a woman, perhaps even one of the calibre of Margaret Maxwell. That would explain why he had managed to bring her to the ball. It was rather foolish to think she would accompany a stranger.

This all did not really explain the haste with which they had acquired wedding rings, because the Hargreaves case had only been a month ago and it had just been more or less established that they had met there. While Scott was generally quick to solve cases, it remained to be seen whether it was logical to assume he was also quick and efficient in getting married. That was somehow not quite the same.

The men talked about work-related issues, which were interesting, but to which Margaret had nothing to contribute. People at other tables seemed only intent on staring at her and Mrs. Brown and Mrs. Wilson appeared too timid to speak. Perhaps she had misjudged the degree to which she would be able to cope with this. She had got married only that morning and she wanted some more attention from her husband.

Drinks were served. "No alcoholic beverages at dinner, for those who prefer a civilised start to the ball," Superintendent Brown apologised to Margaret, who, for all he knew, might prefer wine.

"Oh god, what did I get myself into? Is such a measure really necessary?" She got visions of drunken hooligans.

"It was, in the past. It works out fine now."

"What about the poster at the entrance?" There was something there that warned against the dangers of drinking and driving. It would never be there without a reason.

He was surprised that she had noticed that. "We can't have police officers drink and drive. The posters are there to remind them of that."

She looked at Iain. "I don't drink. You can drink if you want to. Not too much." She still remembered their conversation about drunk policemen ripping off dresses.

"Today? I don't think so." Iain caught CI Wilson gaping at him and he wondered why. "What? I never drink much."

"Oh. I meant ... you are leaving together?" They were implying they were going to leave in the same car.

Iain looked at Margaret. They had arrived together. It was logical to assume they might leave together as well. "Margaret, what did you forget to tell him?"

"It's not my fault! You left the table." She had merely persisted in their reticence. If he had left so she could inform everybody, he should have been more clear about that.

"You can speak on my behalf."

"Yes, that's what you'd prefer, not to speak at all, but I'm not going to let you get away with these things. Besides, I promised to look pretty and shut up. I've already said too much, so I'll just stick to looking pretty, which may not even have worked, because you left me sitting here all alone," she said with a lovely pout. "So obviously I wasn't as pretty as that."

Iain saw that Wilson was not only still gaping, but that Mrs. Wilson and Mrs. Brown had joined him. He looked around for the nearest exit and saw the entrance to the lavatories in the corner. A private chat was in order. "Come with me," he ordered Margaret. In the hall leading to the toilets he stopped her. "You are unbelievable!"

She grinned at him, leaning against the wall and pulling him closer. "Kiss me, Iain. I was beginning to wonder if I'd made a mistake in coming, what with you ignoring me and all."

"I cannot kiss you at the table," Iain explained patiently. He wondered if he could even do it here. Margaret seemed to think so.

"Make up for it."

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Superintendent Brown, who really wished to make a speech before dinner commenced, could not do so. Everybody had finally arrived, even the latecomers, but now two people had deserted to the lavatories and one of them had to be the most conspicuous guest, whose absence would certainly be noted because she was at his table.

He had seen more than one head turn during her flight. If he started to speak and she returned, people would be distracted again. He could not run that risk.

There was no other solution than to head towards the lavatories as well to get them out. He had no idea what he might find, perhaps a Ms Maxwell or Mrs. Scott who threatened to leave, but he certainly was not prepared for the sight of the woman being kissed by DCI Scott, who even had his hand up one of the splits of her dress.

He cleared his throat, not knowing whether to be shocked or amused that this should be happening to the most incorruptible of his subordinates. "Detective Chief Inspector Scott..." he said, using the rank as a reminder of his usually blameless conduct.

Iain turned his head. "Yes, sir?" He had known he might be interrupted at some point and he was not too surprised. He strove to be unaffected by the interruption.

"I hate to disturb you, but I'd like to start my speech." Others might not have got away with only that comment, but others might have acted guilty or embarrassed, not looked back at him as if they were not doing anything wrong. Either that, or he was aware that what he was doing was perhaps not what one might expect. Brown rather appreciated the fact that no excuses were offered and that no effort was made to make the situation look different from what it was. "As soon as you two return to the table I can make a speech. You don't want to be seen avoiding the speech, do you? It's the highlight of the evening."

"Oh, right." Iain took his hand off Margaret's thigh and pulled her dress straight very carefully. "I'm sorry for causing a delay to your speech."

"I wonder why your sister called you a choir boy," Margaret said softly, but she perceived another faint blush nonetheless. He was not as naughty as he let on.

"The silent types always surprise you, don't they?" Brown commented.

"They are not silent with a good woman," she replied. "The type they communicate with on a mental level," she added, in case he would think she meant a good woman was a flirt. She was the good woman and she was not a flirt.

"Mental level," Brown echoed with an understanding nod. He had just found them kissing. As far as he knew that was another level, more like physical. "So I saw."

"Oh, I am not going to argue with you about the order of things. You wouldn't get it," Margaret exclaimed. She returned to the dining room.

"Get what? What is the order of things?" he asked.

Iain did not want to go into detail. It would take too long and some details were too private. "Something that requires too much planning, commitment and self-control for most people, I daresay."

"Does Miss Maxwell -- pardon me, Mrs. Scott -- swear by that as well?" Brown thought that DCI Scott almost certainly did, so the woman had to have some patience with that at least. Considering that she had not at all giggled in embarrassment, her self-control had to be reasonable.

"So much that I almost renounced my faith," Iain said humorously.

Brown pushed him towards the door. "She's worse than you? Is that possible?" In that case it was a miracle they had ever ended up in here and he was almost sorry that he had broken it up.

"Thank you very much for that. Obviously I don't think they're very bad qualities."

"That was very obvious."

When Margaret regained her seat, she was approached by Kirsty, whom she had not yet spotted. She had actually forgotten to look for her, although she had known her sister-in-law had to be there somewhere as well.

"How did you manage after we left then?" Kirsty whispered. She was immensely curious.

"Fine," Margaret said with a mortified blush. "You shouldn't be asking me that."

Kirsty studied her blush with interest. "Just wondering if I need to prod my big brother into action." By the looks of it that was not going to be necessary. Perhaps her mother had been right and they could be left to their own devices.

"No need."

"Oh!" Kirsty looked back to see if she had time for another question, but she saw Iain return. "I'll be back!"

"What did she want?" Iain whispered suspiciously when he sat down again. The smirking countenance of his sister did not promise any good and neither did the somewhat flustered appearance of Margaret.

"She wanted to know how you were acquitting yourself of your marital duties," Margaret whispered back. She was amused when he turned red, despite the fact that she had turned red herself a minute ago and the colour had not yet faded.

"Remind me to kill her later," he responded, looking just like he had done when Kirsty had appeared during the Hargreaves case.

"No! I won't allow you to kill your sister. I finally get a sister again and then you want to kill her. Be nice to me. Don't you even want to know what I said?" It did not seem to worry him at all.

"I don't think you told her anything." He was still glaring after Kirsty.

"How can you be sure? I might have acted out of character and told her all." She would not have done it here at the table, but she might do it later in private. There was nobody else she could possibly talk to and there might be things she wanted to share, or things about which she had questions.

"Mr. and Mrs. Scott," Superintendent Brown said to the great surprise of the rest of the table. "Would you kindly postpone your argument until after my speech?"

"Just a second, sir," said Wilson, gaping at Margaret. "Mrs. Scott? Is that what he said you forgot to tell us, before you disappeared?"

Margaret grinned. "Oh yes. We had to er ... sort that out."

"But you hadn't got to that yet, I think," said the Super, raising his eyebrows. "Since they couldn't decide who was to speak up, I'll do it. I was too hasty with the introductions. Now, if you don't mind, the speech."

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Wilson postponed his curiosity until after the speech, when the soup was served. "You're married then?" He sounded incredulous.

Margaret kicked Iain under the table, to indicate that these were his colleagues and that answering questions was up to him entirely. He should make a start, at least. She would not mind taking over at some point.

"We are," he said reluctantly.

"But none of us were told about the wedding," Wilson protested. It was customary to do so and most people invited colleagues.

"Nobody was." Iain recalled he had been to Wilson's wedding several years back, but that had been an entirely different situation.

"If I may be so curious, when did it take place?" Brown asked. Scott had taken four weeks off. He could not imagine that it had happened before then. There would not have been enough time.

"This morning."

"You must be as quick about getting married as about wrapping up cases. That explains some of your behaviour," he said in reference to the lavatories, "but not why you're here."

"I thought attendance was as good as compulsory for senior officers," Margaret piped up.

"But perhaps not on the day of their wedding." Superintendent Brown thought he was that humane at least. He would allow people to take time off for that. Perhaps he would not have come on his wedding day himself.

"Oh, but he didn't know he was going to be married when you ordered him to attend, or rather, he couldn't be sure when. Besides, I thought I might have to restore his reputation, because obviously nobody thought he could end up with me." Margaret managed to look a little indignant. "And obviously you don't read his reports."

"Why do you think that?"

"Otherwise you would have known that he really knew me."

"That's not exactly how I write my reports," Iain corrected, but she had a point nevertheless. One Ms Maxwell had indeed featured in his report, which Brown ought to have noticed, but it would not do to stress that fact too much. "Besides, I could have said that I really knew you, but I didn't."

"Well, you didn't know if I wanted to come."

"While you were talking to the Randalls, we established that you must have met during the Hargreaves case, but that is barely a month ago." Brown made a mental note to read that report again to see where Margaret was mentioned.

"Getting married takes three weeks," Margaret said with a shrug. "But just believe that it is possible in a month, thank you. I didn't know that either."

After dinner, desert and coffee, everybody was invited to go downstairs to the ballroom where there was a live band, a bar and a table with raffle tickets.

Lisa Randall jumped on Margaret on the stairs. "We have to talk, Margaret. We really have to." She smiled sweetly at Iain. "You'll manage on your own for a bit, won't you?"

Margaret gave him a helpless look and allowed herself to be dragged off into a corner between the band and the raffle tickets. She could imagine what Lisa wanted to talk about. It was probably the same as what Kirsty was interested in, but those were not exactly things she was eager to discuss with everyone. Still, talking to Lisa was better than being cornered by unknown people.

"Tell me all! When did he first kiss you?"

Margaret groaned. Lisa was even more direct than she had feared. "Please!"

"Was it at Hargreaves' house?"

"No! Why do you want to know these things?"

"Pure friendly interest. I can't make sense of it. You're married, but you never went on dates, I heard? When was it? Where was it? How was it?"

Margaret shook her head. "I won't tell you. You'd only make fun of me." The only one who seemed to find it perfectly normal was Iain. Even his family were amused and Margaret was too used to disapproval to be easy about that.

"All right," Lisa relented. "I know you take it very seriously, so you're obviously very, very sure and so I promise I don't want to make fun of you at all. I just want to know if he's normal."

Margaret frowned. "He's your boss. You shouldn't be wondering about him kissing."

"Margaret, don't be jealous. I'm only concerned that you're married to a sort of robot who either doesn't have feelings or he can't express them." Lisa leant towards the latter.

"Is that how you think of Iain?" She was shocked. "I thought you liked him."

"Well, that's my worst-case scenario. Tell me it's otherwise." It probably was, if she took their radiance into account.

"It's otherwise."

"How then? Please, Margaret. You're not exactly hot-blooded enough to melt him on your own -- in four weeks!" That was the most surprising thing of all, really. From not admitting his preference, he had gone to marriage in four weeks, so in fact in about one week only.

Margaret looked around herself to see if no one was listening. "Cold-blooded can be cosy too."

"How?"

"I like things civilised and friendly, Lisa. Wild passion is not my style. It's not Iain's either. The wildest thing he's done is to kiss me right before dinner just now and even that was nice rather than naughty," Margaret said reflectively.

"He kissed you before dinner and Brown walked in on you?" Lisa gasped. She had seen the Superintendent go after them. "Ouch!"

"Yes. He asked if we could return to the table so he could hold his speech. That was all. It wasn't bad."

"I'm not sure that wasn't naughty." Lisa was still gasping for breath, now at the fact that Brown did not seem to have been shocked by the scene. "But that was the wildest he's done? That wasn't the first kiss, though, was it?"

"No, that was this morning when we were getting married." The corners of her mouth turned up at the memory.

"Aliens!" Lisa could not help but cry out. "Sorry. I mean, how could you wait? You must have agreed to get married several weeks before. If I didn't know he already fancied you rotten at the Hargreaves house I'd get a completely wrong impression and think you had some business arrangement with each other."

"You have to get acquainted a bit first. It was very, very nice," Margaret said dreamily. "I'd been a bit worried and I'd almost taken up his offer to practise. I think you have the wrong idea of him, Lisa. If I put a little pressure on him he can say sweet things very well. I don't need to put any pressure on him to do sweet things. Do you think I would ever have got him to say things if we had started kissing right away? I don't think so."

Chapter Thirty-Nine

"Margaret said she might be pregnant," Kirsty invented, just to see what sort of reaction she would get.

Her brother gave her an icy stare. "Yes, of course."

"Really?" She had not expected that answer, but she had not expected him to walk straight to Margaret either. "Oops," Kirsty muttered and looked for an escape. As soon as he had spoken to Margaret, he would come back to her, she was sure, because then he would know she had made it up. If there was anything he disliked it would be that.

"Kirsty says you told her you might be pregnant," Iain said to Margaret. She might really have said it to throw Kirsty off balance, for all he knew, but before he took any action, he would like to know the truth.

Lisa looked extremely interested and kept silent so they might not notice her.

Margaret blinked a few times at his uncertain tone. "Sorry, Lisa. We won't talk about this in front of you." She linked her arm through Iain's and pulled him away. "You know how those things work!" she hissed. "But you're making it sound as if you have no clue. You should know by now."

"Before I kill her, I'd like to be sure it's justified," Iain said patiently, annoyed with his sister and amused by Margaret. She was speaking as if years had passed, not simply a few hours.

"Oh, and if I say I did tell her that, you'll kill me?" She had not said anything of the sort.

"No," he said, "because I could guess why you would have, but do you think I should know by now? We've been married for ages, haven't we?"

Margaret gave him a dignified look. "I was more concerned about the impression you were making."

Iain looked doubtful. "I'm not sure what sort of impression I'd be making if I turned out to have used the afternoon to find out."

"I didn't tell her anything," Margaret said with a giggle, agreeing with him on the impression. "You shouldn't be wanting to kill your sister."

"That's what sisters are for."

"I lost mine," Margaret said earnestly. "Don't talk about killing yours, even if you don't mean it. Be glad you have one who takes an interest in your life. If she annoys you, just be explicit and very detailed. I'm sure she'll think that too much information. Mushy gushing."

"Can I leave that to you?"

"No. Just tell her you carried me upstairs -- and so forth." She waved a little with her hands as explanation.

"I carried Margaret upstairs and so forth," Iain repeated dutifully, but with a smile at Margaret's idea of what constituted too much information.

"Be more detailed on the and so forth," Margaret advised. "Surely you remember?"

He thought about it and smirked. "No. Refresh my memory?"

"Oh, you remember it very well. I'm not going to help you out. Let's chase Kirsty around the ballroom and scare her a bit," she suggested.

Margaret passed the band in search of Kirsty, but saw the microphone and got an idea. She paused to think for a second, then asked if she could use it and nobody protested. "Outside I ran into a fellow named Peters. Where is he?" Her voice did not spell much good for the poor man, since her accent was very pronounced.

There was some commotion in the ballroom as people turned towards the small stage, their confusion mixed with some hilarity because she was asking for Peters. People who did not know her were now told who she was.

"He's here!" someone shouted from a corner, where a man could be seen hiding.

"Well, he doesn't have to come on stage! He may stay there, as long as he listens. Let me explain. Outside, Peters asked how much I cost..." As she spoke, Margaret wondered why she had no problems doing this, whereas she had preferred to keep the number of wedding guests to an absolute minimum.

People laughed. Some were amused; some were embarrassed that Peters had apparently been so nosy and tactless.

"He asked how much it had cost to get me here. I want to know: Peters, have you figured it out yet?" She made it sound as if he was a fool for not having figured it out instantly.

There was no answer from Peters' corner, but some more hilarity from the rest of the audience.

"I helped Peters along. I told him I have special rates for Scottish hotties. But he still doesn't know? Peters! Don't let me down!" Surprisingly, that about the Scottish hotties came out just like the rest of her words. Margaret applauded herself inwardly.

Someone shouted an indecent suggestion.

"I was warned some of you would be simple, but I didn't know it was quite that bad!" She looked at Peters' corner again. "I hope you at least know who my Scottish hottie is."

"That'd be DCI Scott!" someone shouted.

"Aye! Now, Peters ... how did DCI Scott get me here?"

Because Iain approached her from behind, she did not see him coming. He grabbed the microphone from her and she could only yelp in surprise when he grabbed her around the waist with his other arm. She could wave her arms and kick her legs, but nothing else, so she did not bother to try.

"How he gets you out of here is much easier to see," he said to the audience. "Peters, I'll save you from this woman."

Margaret loved it. She did not protest at all when he half carried, half dragged her away.

Before he put the microphone down, he said one more thing. "It's my wife. I'm allowed to!" Then he carried her off the stage.

She really loved it. Iain had told everybody she was his wife.

Chapter Forty

"You told everybody I'm your wife," Margaret gushed when Iain set her on her feet again off the stage. Perhaps she was not capable of standing up straight, so she leant into him just in case. He was always so deliciously stable -- and so deliciously unpredictable.

"You called me a hottie in company again," he said sternly. "Twice."

She wrapped her arms around him. His stern looks achieved quite the opposite. "You become hotter by the second. It's really not my fault. Besides, secretly you're very flattered."

"Am I?" Of course he was.

"Oh yes, or else you'd never have come to claim me in a manner that proved my point." If he had disapproved, he would have gone outside for a good cringe.

"It did?" Iain frowned. By no means had he wanted to come and claim her, or anything that could be described by such a phrase. Not her body, anyway. He had had the intention to make it absolutely clear that one, this was his wife and two, she was not at all scary. A sign to the community, as the community was always very keen on signs, even if nothing actually happened behind the scenes. He wondered how carrying her off the stage as if she were a naughty toddler that had escaped proved that he was hot.

"I was swooning."

"Don't get carried away now, Maggie." He had not seen her swoon. She had merely looked ecstatic. She was still looking ecstatic. It reminded him of the time he had caught her dangling. He had been a little afraid if her reaction then too, but it had been equally favourable. She had come a long way since then, from being startled and tentatively pleased, to this unchecked joy.

"You carried me away, darling, in a manner that left no one in doubt as to your hotness. Lisa thought you were an imploding ice cube, but now she knows better, I'm sure." It made Margaret look very smug and secure.

"I'm not sure ice cubes can implode." He was not sure he was an ice cube. He could not be, if he felt that he might want to kiss Margaret if she continued to be kissable. However, in a public place he had better suppress that desire a bit.

"She was very sure you could not explode, that's why." Margaret sounded very sure that Lisa was wrong about this. Iain looked as if Lisa was wrong about this, at any rate. Something was bubbling up.

Iain raised his eyebrows. "Ice cubes do neither. Should I talk to her and put her right?" He was certain that Lisa had been exaggerating in order to draw more gossip from Margaret. By saying he was an ice cube she would certainly get Margaret to protest -- he hoped.

"That would be nice." She looked up at him challengingly. "Don't implode, darling. Let it out." She crossed her fingers that it would be manageable. This was Iain, so it probably would be, but so far she did not have much experience making such judgements.

"Here?" he breathed. He did not dare to look around and see how many people were watching. That would put him off for certain.

"Yes, here. Where else? I am here."

"Hot, hot, hot," Margaret muttered when she could speak again. "I told you so." Exaggerating a little to Iain had some very interesting results.

"Was that too much? Do you need to cool off?" Iain asked, very seriously.

She looked up at him, trying to decide whether he was genuinely concerned or merely trying to make everything even worse. "I don't kiss as well as you, do I?"

"Why are you asking?" The only thing he might be better at was recovering, or pretending to have recovered.

"Because you can ask me serious questions the second you stop." She did not really have that ability.

"Was that a serious question? Maggie!" Iain clicked his tongue as if she was being very silly. "I was wondering if you wanted to come outside with me."

She rested her head against his shoulder and chuckled. "Seriously? I think it might go from bad to worse if we did that."

"Oh?" he teased interestedly.

She smiled. "I don't particularly need to stay very long here. Whisk me off when you've had enough of it and I'll follow obediently, as willingly as I was carried away just now. But for the time being, let's behave. I'll go and find Kirsty to relieve her worries." She wanted a private chat with her sister-in-law as well.

He raised his eyebrows. Behave? Had Margaret not been the first to misbehave when she had taken the microphone? "I didn't say she had any. I said she said you said you might be pregnant." He wanted her to correct Kirsty on that point, not talk about worries.

Margaret raised her eyebrows now too. "Obviously now she worries that she might be right, because I really don't see how she could be worried that she might be wrong."

"Well, I can." It had to do with the fact that Kirsty thought he did not know what to do.

"But why? If she is wrong, the situation can have two outcomes, whereas if she is right, the situation only has one outcome. You'd be excellent. I saw that almost right away. Even if she is still wrong, she will be right at some point, so how could she possibly worry about that?"

"You're so sweet, Maggie." Iain gave her a quick kiss.

Chapter Forty-One

Margaret walked off in search of Kirsty, ignoring the interest in her person. She found Kirsty talking to the Browns. That was fortunate, because it meant no more introductions to strangers were required and if she wanted, she could take Kirsty aside without offending anybody because she had already spoken to the Browns. "Kirsty..." she began sweetly.

"Mum ought to patent that superglue," Kirsty commented.

"What do you mean?"

"It has some interesting effects on Iain. He's more often physically attached to you than not."

Margaret coloured at having been observed. "Well, that's what I came to talk to you about. Why did you tell him that I said that one thing? I never said that."

"Obviously because he doesn't appreciate the comment. That's what sisters are for," Kirsty said innocently. Sisters had been invented to make trouble in their brothers' lives, all for the greater good.

"He said so too. I told him not to kill you, though."

"Thank you. So, what did you want to talk about?"

Margaret smiled an apology at the Browns. "Sorry. Can I take Kirsty away for a minute?" She pulled her away until they were beyond everyone's hearing. "Why are you worried? I think we're not so out of touch with reality as to be ignorant. You shouldn't be worried about Iain. He knows what he's doing and when he doesn't, he finds out. I'm in good hands."

"Ha, and is he?"

"Now that's what I had a few questions about..."

Iain went to find Lisa, which did not prove to be very difficult. "What's this ice cube nonsense, Randall?" he inquired.

"Nonsense indeed," she said, a little frightened by his tone. "As we all just observed." Ice cubes would leave their wives alone. They tended not to carry and kiss them.

Iain looked smug. "That's how I like it. Case closed, then?" He did not want any more questions or comments about the past four weeks, although those were to be preferred over comments about the past few hours.

"All right." Lisa looked relieved. "But er..."

"Case closed," he warned.

"But we haven't congratulated you yet, have we?" she protested.

He relented. "Oh ... we can reopen the case for that, I suppose."

Lisa and Paul offered their congratulations. "I'm really very happy for you. I like her very much. And now you'll finally understand why I like to go home at the end of a long day," she teased.

"I did sort of suspect why you liked that. I'm not incapable of imagining myself in other people's situations." His eyes sought Margaret. She was listening to Kirsty very earnestly. "I'd like to go home now, in fact. I made my appearance. I showed my wife. I did my duty. Now I'd really like to get away from these people."

Just then the band began to play and some enthusiastic couples moved onto the dance floor, although most were still hesitant and needed some more drinks before they dared to step forwards.

A strange urge took possession of Iain as he stared across the room. There was another way of getting away from people. He tried to recall what he had said to Margaret about dancing -- that he could not or would not, but at any rate it had not been so definite that he could not go back on his words. Besides, he would try anything for that look of surprise and wonder.

Without so much as an apology he left Lisa and Paul, crossing the room towards where Margaret and Kirsty stood.

"Iain," said Kirsty. She was about to say they did not really need him this moment, but he looked too full of something, so she bit back her words.

Margaret was looking rather flushed, as the subject she had been discussing with Kirsty had been uncomfortable and unfamiliar to her.

"Dance with me, Margaret," he said.

"Dance with you?" she asked with wide eyes. "Dance? Could you repeat your question?"

He turned to watch the centre of the dance floor, seeing no need to repeat something she had already repeated twice herself. "Surely if Brown can do it, we can too?" Brown was doing his duty by being one of the first.

"Brown knows the steps," she observed lamely. She was not sure if she could copy just by looking.

"We needn't be perfect. We can stumble our way through. Doesn't that create a bond?" He pulled her with him, enjoying the look on her face. "Come on, this is a relatively slow one, so we can cheat." They would not have to move their feet very much.

Safely in his embrace, Margaret relaxed. "You surprise me."

"That was the point. Surprise looks good on you."

"I never thought you'd dance."

"It's actually a hug," he reminded her modestly. "And as you know, anyone can learn that."

"When you become Superintendent, Iain, will you be expected to know the steps that go with the hug?" They might have to take lessons one day, because it appeared to be part of the deal.

"Who says I will become one?"

"I assumed you were forced to attend because you had to learn the ropes, so to speak, because I was told you were very good at what you do." Margaret supposed he would be promoted at some point.

"You had to be told?" he teased.

"I had my suspicions confirmed," she said gravely.

"It never happens to people under forty. Do you know how long that gives me?"

"You never told me your age, you idiot, but you're so lucky to have a nosy wife with a quick eye who picked it up when you wrote it down..."

"Actually, I can't imagine any reasons for telling you outright," he mused. "Although I'm sure it fit right in with whether you were Miss or Mrs."

Margaret looked up at him and smiled radiantly. "I can't wait to be on a case with you again."

The End

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