Rupert was in the kitchen preparing dinner when Joyce arrived home. "Enjoy your first day, Chief Inspector?"

"Would you believe I messed up?"

"Don't tell me the phone rang, and you drove with your siren blaring to a crime scene."

On entering the kitchen, she asked, "Who told you?"

He turned and kissed her. "You could say it's the standard operating procedure for virgin DCIs. Done it and have the T-shirt. It shows enthusiasm for the job. You would have received a bigger bollocking if you hadn't gone. Who did what and when?"

"Carol Parmenter is one of my regulars on the Ridings Estate. Her partner and pimp knocked seven bells out of her if she didn't earn enough. Unfortunately, the stupid woman never pressed charges. Now, she never will. The bastard murdered her."

"How do you know it was him?"

"I don't, but I'll bet you a pound to a penny it was."

' "Can you prove it?"

"Didn't anyone tell you shit stinks, but I'll let you know after I find the creep. I'm going for a shower."

He chuckled. "You can shower after you've eaten my spaghetti carbonara. I've also poured you a chilled pinot grigio."

She washed her hands at the sink. "I could get used to this."

He passed her a plate covered in freshly cooked food. "I thought I'd surprise you as it's your first day as a DCI."

He filled two wine glasses and handed one across. "To you and your promotion." The glasses clinked.

"I'm going to enjoy this." With her fork loaded, she sampled the meal.

With the meal over, Rupert refilled their glasses. "Might as well finish the bottle. White wine never keeps well. Do you fancy an early night?"

Joyce chuckled. "All you want to do is ravage my body."

"I'll be in bed as you shower."

She giggled. "I remember when I was sixteen and out on the pull. I couldn't understand girls who were content with a quickie behind the local Palais de Dance. I never fancied outdoor sex. I much prefer silk sheets and a glass of wine after."

"Ancient history for us oldies."

"At least you had a touch of style when we met."

"And you a virgin."

"You planned a weekend in a four-star hotel in Weymouth. It was rather obvious why but I knew I could always say no and leave or be a real arsehole and not turn up at the rail station."

"If I remember, we stayed in bed for over twenty-four hours."

"We didn't sleep much."

"We didn't want to. Well, I didn't. Go and have your shower."

Rupert washed in the kitchen. In their bedroom, he lit two lemongrass-scented tea candles, and two Clinamen Josh sticks

. He took a pillbox from his bedside cabinet, removed one, and placed it on his tongue.

When she entered the room, the combination of two scents overpowered her. "What are you trying to do to me? The candles would have been enough."

"I thought the more, the better."

She slid between the sheets. "If you want me unconscious, you might be right."

He lowered his head and kissed her nipples. As she moaned, he caressed her body with his lips and started his journey. He spent time kissing the inside of her thighs. When he found the spot, she bucked with a gentle moan. Her back arched as she wrapped her legs around him. She relaxed as his hands caressed the inside of her thighs. His fingers pressed the right buttons. For a moment, he stopped and waited.

With a gentle motion, they savoured every pulsating nerve. Joyce's body trembled as his legs held her. A soft moan came from her lips, rising in volume as her nervous system ran riot. She gave a high-pitched squeal, thrusting hard into him.

Rupert pushed into her until an orgasm consumed her again, and he joined her.

Sated, they snuggled close as the moment continued.

One by one, the candles died.

Warm and content, they fell into a deep sleep.

When the bedside telephone rang, Rupert grabbed the handset. "Chief Superintendent Parsons speaking."

"Sorry to wake you. Can I speak to Chief Inspector Parsons?"

"One moment." Rupert handed the handset to Joyce.

"Who's speaking?"

"Roger, boss. We've found Carol Parmenter's pimp."

"It's three in the morning. Thanks for letting me know, but couldn't this have waited?"

"Chief Superintendent Archer ordered me to let you know. There's a car on its way to collect you."

"I can drive."

"The car is to bring you to the crime scene. Our suspect is in a bit of a mess."

"What's happened to him?"

"Someone secured him to the railway line and left the messy bit to the next train."

"I have no sympathy for the creep. Where are you?"

"At the eastern end of White Horse tunnel."

"See you soon, Roger." She tossed the handset on the bed and went to her wardrobe. "We need the handset transferred to my side. Thank God he didn't phone earlier."

Rupert chuckled. "You and me both. Coitus interruptus. I don't need."

She pulled on her dark blue jeans. "I don't know about you, but I was on another planet."

He grinned. "I've no idea what you mean. Want a coffee?"

"Love one."

She listened as his footsteps hit the stairs. With luck, she might even drink it.

Dressed and carrying her Wellington boots in a plastic bag, she entered the kitchen.

"It's more hot milk than coffee."

The doorbell rang as she finished drinking. She kissed him on the lips. "I'll ring you once I know what's going down."

Joyce knew the driver. "Hi, Rachel. I assume you know the location of the crime scene?"

She smiled. "Yes, boss. We should be there in forty minutes. Do you want the siren on?"

"Don't think it's necessary to wake up half the town."

Thirty-five minutes later, Rachel stopped next to a British Transport police van. Four cars and a windowless vehicle from the local undertakers were in the car park.

"Do you want me to stay, boss?"

Joyce opened the passenger door and shoved her feet into her Wellingtons. "Return to the station. If I need you, I'll call."

Roger strolled towards her. "Wonderful early start, guv."

"What's wonderful about getting me out of a nice warm bed?"

Roger was wearing a white one-piece coverall. "Point taken." He handed over a coverall. "Take your time. The train driver told me he didn't see anything until too late. He applied the brakes but couldn't stop in time.

"At first, he thought it was a bag of rubbish. Only when he and the guard checked did they find the shredded parts of a body.

"The Transport police have engineers installing a generator and floodlights. Our SOC team are photographing the scene."

Joyce turned to him. "Can we go to the tunnel entrance? The morning breeze is cooling the parts it shouldn't?"

Roger shrugged. "Can't see it will do any harm."

The long, damp grass flattened by SOCO became slippery. A steady stream of railway employees made descending the steep embankment awkward.

Roger laughed. "Easier descending than climbing."

Without any warning, the entrance lit up.

Joyce and Roger stood and stared into the tunnel. The train was visible.

Two men carrying tool bags and wearing bright orange high viz tops strolled out. One leant on the wall and vomited.

The one wearing a white hard hat stopped in front of Roger. "You the old bill?"

"Right in one."

Another shouted. "Who the hell do you think they are? Some geezer's mincemeat and others pick up the body parts. I suppose for them, it's another day in the office. Dunno how they do it."

"How bad is it in there?" asked Roger.

"It's weird. The victim's hands and feet are still next to the track while the rest of the poor sod is everywhere."

Joyce gave a grim smile. "Thanks for rigging the lighting. Believe me, it will help."

"Morning," said a man climbing the embankment. "Inspector Ian Stevens, Transport police. Your scene of crime officers and my team are working together. With luck, I'll be able to let you enter before the sun rises."

Joyce glanced at her watch. "Thanks for your help, Ian."

"You're welcome. I'm going for a smoke."

"Roger, you haven't been in the tunnel, so how do you know it's Carol Parmenter's pimp?"

From his pocket, Roger removed a plastic bag. "Ian gave this to me." Inside was a blood-covered driving licence. "To be fair, I assumed it belonged to the victim."

"I can't see the details in this light. If it's not, it's another murder to solve. How about we sit in your car until we visit the crime scene?"

Roger rubbed his hands together. "It's not exactly the Bahamas out here. With luck, we could get an hour's kip."

They returned to his car. Roger jumped onto the rear seat and stretched out. Joyce tilted the passenger seat right back and closed her eyes.

"How long have you been a detective?" she asked.

"Has to be fifteen years, and before you ask, I've lost count of the early mornings I've spent up to my neck in other people's shit."

"Know what you mean. For me, every day has merged into the next. People have unbelievable lives and expect someone else to pull them out of the quicksand."

"Boss, if you don't mind."

"Sorry, Roger. I'll shut up."

Fromthe rear seat, a gentle snoring filled the