A Mersey Maiden

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Wedding Day

Pedestrians passing by St. George's Hall in Liverpool's city centre might have been forgiven for thinking the police were attending a bomb threat or some other crime within the building. The presence of three police patrol cars, two rather obvious unmarked police vehicles and a dozen uniformed officers seemingly guarding the entrance to the building certainly backed up the wholly erroneous theory.

Within the famous old building, in the Sefton Room, Detective Sergeant Clarissa (Izzie) Drake and Senior Mortuary Receptionist Peter Foster gazed lovingly into each others eyes as the registrar pronounced them man and wife. Standing beside the groom, Doctor William Nugent, the city's senior pathologist and medical examiner was actually smiling for once, having been surprised but delighted when invited by Foster to be the best man at his wedding. Peter had told the rotund, overweight physician that he considered it a great honour to have him as his best man, not just as a mark of respect for the doctor, but because he was a genuinely nice man to work for.

In addition to Izzie's parents and younger sister, Astrid, also in attendance were the groom's parents, and most of the members of the city's specialist Murder Investigation team, including Detective Inspector Andy Ross and his wife, Maria, a local General Practitioner, and Detective Constables Samantha Gable, who was proud to be Izzie's maid of honour, Paul Ferris, with his wife Kareen and young son, Aaron, looking healthier than he'd ever done since a successful kidney transplant, Derek McLennan and Tony Curtis, who'd all done their sergeant proud by turning out in their best suits for the occasion. Back at police headquarters, the squad room was being manned in their absence by Detective Constable Nick Dodds, who, having worked with the squad on an ad hoc basis over the last two years, had now been assigned permanently to the team, together with their new boss, Detective Chief Inspector Oscar Agostini, who had recently replaced the outgoing and retiring D.C.I. Harry Porteous, who was present in the Sefton Room with his wife as special guests of the bride and groom. Also there from Peter's workplace was Francis Lees; Doctor Nugent's slim, pale and cadaverous but totally efficient assistant, looking cheerful for the first time in Ross's memory.

Agostini, an old friend and colleague of Ross's prior to his promotion, had offered to man the squad room with Dodds for a couple of hours, with Ross and his colleagues promising to return after the ceremony concluded. Ross had excluded Ferris from that promise, believing his senior D.C and family should represent the team at the small reception the happy couple's parents had clubbed together to pay for at the nearby Marriott Hotel. The ceremony over, the couple signed the register and left the room to the strains of the old romantic song, No Arms Can Ever Hold You, by the Bachelors. Izzie had fallen in love with the music of the 1960s while working on the case involving Brendan Kane and the Planets, and a missing young woman, Brendan's girlfriend Marie Doyle some four years previously. She could think of no song more romantic than this one to accompany her wedding service.

As they walked out of the building, the dozen uniformed officers who'd waited patiently outside formed a guard of honour with truncheons raised to form an arch and a beaming Izzie Drake looked towards her boss and mouthed a 'thank you' to Andy Ross for she knew it had to have been Ross who had arranged this final touch to make the ceremony complete and memorable for her.

A wedding photographer, a friend of Francis Lees, himself an expert with a camera in his hands, quickly arranged the wedding group and a series of photographs were taken in the morning sunshine, a perfect reminder of the happy day, after which he would follow the couple and guests to the reception.

Photographs over, everyone began to make a move towards transferring the celebrations to the hotel, and Ross quickly made his way to have a quiet word with his sergeant before taking his leave of the wedding party.

Pulling her to one side, Ross hugged Izzie fondly and placed a fatherly kiss on her cheek.

“Congratulations, Sergeant Drake,” he said, with mock formality.

“Thanks for everything,” Izzie replied. “You arranged the guard of honour didn't you?”

“But of course. No way was the best sergeant in the city getting away without a proper send off. Seriously, Izzie, I hope you and Peter have a long and happy future ahead of you.”

“Thanks, sir. I appreciate that. At least, Peter's under no illusions about what I do for a living or the extra hours I have to spend at work on occasions.”

“That's true,” said Ross. “And you see him quite a lot when we have to visit the morgue too.”

“Yes, well, we try to keep that contact to a professional level, as you well know, sir.”

“I know you do. I meant to ask, are you going to continue to be D.S Drake from now on, or are you changing it to Foster?”

“Peter and I agreed it's best if I carry on as Drake at work, sir. I'll get plenty of time to be Mrs. Foster in my off duty hours.”

“Right, that's good to know, Izzie. At least the rest of the force won't think I've got a new sergeant working for me.”

“Right, well, I'm glad we've sorted that out, sir. Oh, look, sorry, but I'm wanted.”

Peter was waving to Izzie. It was time they left for the reception.

“Off you go then,” said Ross, “and enjoy the honeymoon,” he continued, referring to the long weekend she and her new husband had booked in London. Ross had urged them to take at least a week off work, but Izzie had insisted four days was long enough for him to survive without her and Peter had actually agreed with her, knowing just how much she loved her job and the buzz she got from working with Ross.

As the happy couple were whisked away in a gleaming silver Bentley for the short journey to the Marriott, Ross rejoined his wife and the other guests, his own detectives amongst them, who'd remained to see them off, others having already made their way to the hotel to greet them as they arrived for the reception.

Ross said goodbye to Maria, who, like him, was heading back to work at her surgery, and suddenly, standing there outside the magnificent old building on St. George's Place, he felt really alone. For the first time in as long as he could remember, Izzie wasn't there to drive him back to headquarters, or to the next case. He and his sergeant had worked together for so long they almost thought as a single entity, being able on occasions to virtually read each other's thoughts, anticipate the other's next move in a case and so on.

“Sir?” came a voice from behind him. He turned to find D.C. Sam Gable standing there, having somehow changed from her wedding finery into her usual work outfit of plain white blouse, short black jacket and matching trousers.

“Hello, Sam. Been a good day so far, eh?”

“Yes, it has sir. Sergeant Drake looked beautiful didn't she?”

“She was positively radiant, Sam, definitely. What can I do for you?”

“More the other way round, sir. Sergeant Drake said I was to look out for you while she's away, so I thought I'd get changed in the ladies room back in the hall and then come down and give you a ride to headquarters. Izzie said your wife would probably take your car to her surgery and you'd end up stranded and having to cadge a lift with the uniform lads.”

Ross couldn't help himself. He laughed out loud as he said, “Well, b****y hell, talk about a mother hen. Doesn't she think I can cope without her for a few days?”

Sam Gable c****d her head on one side, smiled a lop-sided grin at her boss and replied, “Sergeant Drake said you'd say something like that, sir, and, with all due respect, she told me to say, 'Do you really want me to answer that?'”

Andy Ross laughed again, said, “Women, can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em,” and in reply to the odd look on Gable's face, said, “Just ignore me Sam. I'm getting old, I think.”

“You sir? No, not a chance,” Gable replied. “Much too soon for you to be pushing up daisies or maybe retiring with pipe and slippers and a nice line in gardening tools.”

“My God, Samantha, you're almost as bad as my b****y sergeant. Go and fetch my chariot, wench, before I change my mind and walk all the way back to headquarters.”

Sam laughed with her boss as she almost ran round to the car park and soon had D.I. Ross seated next to her in the passenger seat of her car as she drove the short distance back to police headquarters.

Detective Chief Inspector Agostini was waiting expectantly for the team to return and was pleased to hear the wedding had gone off without a hitch. A couple of the Detective Constables had taken photos using their mobile phones and were quick to show them to Agostini and Nick Dodds.

As he sat at his desk in his office, Ross allowed himself to relax a little and take advantage of the fact that the last few days had been relatively peaceful and crime free, allowing him to catch up on the mountain of paperwork that seemed to grow exponentially with each case the squad handled. Even his team had welcomed a little peace and quiet as they also sat typing reports or preparing for forthcoming court appearances at various trials and so on.

As with all such times in the lives of the officers of law enforcement, this short lull would prove to be nothing more than the calm before a storm, and when the next storm hit, it would prove to be a damn big one!