Chapter 8 - Hopeless

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"I don't have a key," Becky said matter-of-factly.

Ted sighed. "That's what Drake's expecting you to say whether you have one or not. And... Becky, I'm sorry, but Drake's already interviewed Alex, who has an alibi, and the museum staff, who also have alibis. If he reaches a dead end with you guys he's calling it a cold case."

Becky shook her head as her heart sank. "Screw this," she muttered, jumping to her feet.

"Oh, are we leaving?" asked Hannah, standing up as well.

"You can if you like," Becky shrugged. "I'd like to walk home though, get some air."

Paul looked up, more concerned for his friend than ever. "We'll see you at home then...won't we?"

Becky forced a smile. "Of course you'll see me at home. My brain just needs the fresh air."

She said goodbye then set off at a leisurely pace, walking through streets both packed and deserted - past the bookshops and cinemas, past the arcades, past the nightclubs, not stopping until she reached a set of traffic lights. As she waited it sunk in that Curt's killer was going to go free, and she may even end up convicted of murder. Things couldn't get much worse.

A gust of smoke blew across her face, and turning round she saw the source was a man standing outside a pub smoking a cigarette. Rolling her eyes, she went to cross the road, then hesitated.

The last two weeks of my life have been utter hell, she thought. This could be the only break I get.

Was she really going to do this? After years of living by a strict code that decreed she not even consider it? Oh, what the hell, she thought as she turned and pushed her way into the pub and towards the bar. One drink can't hurt.

"What can I get you, Miss?" asked the bartender.

"Um…" Becky hesitated. "Pint of beer, please."

The bartender raised an eyebrow and passed her a bottle. Becky paid him, then threw caution to the wind and took a drink. Immediately her senses lost focus. She took another drink. "I'm Becky Hidgens," she said to nobody in particular. "You're welcome!"

She drained the bottle then tried to sit down on the bar stool, but ended up knocking it over along with the two next to it. "Eh, whatever," she muttered. "Probably for the best."

She sauntered over to a nearby couple, tapping one of them on the shoulder. "Hello there," she said, slurring her words.

"Um...hi," the woman responded. "Um, sorry, I'm on a date here."

Becky shook her head vigorously. "Don't. Don't fall in love. It's all well and good until you start loving someone. Then it ALL falls to pieces."

The couple smiled awkwardly. "Amelia Murphy!" yelled Becky. "We were absolute BFFs, but I was a genius so she went to prison then killed my brother. But I took her down, I worked for MI5 and I took her down, YOU'RE WELCOME LONDON! And after I do their jobs for them, the police think I might have killed the broski? Can you believe the audacity?"

One of the women tried to speak, but Becky continued, "Then there's Paul and the squad, and ya know, they're actually pretty swag, can you believe it? But it all goes to shambles in the end, they'll die or be bitches or something, it all goes to shambles in the end. You see, whenever you love someone…"

Becky continued like this for...some time, she wasn't entirely sure how long, but she continued rambling to anyone who would listen, until the pub fell silent at the shout of "Police, coming through!"

Paul and Hannah pushed through the crowd until they were in front of Becky, who smiled and shouted "Houston, we have a problem!"

Paul wasn't smiling. "Becky, what's going on?" he asked.

"How much has she had?" Hannah asked the bartender.

"Just a pint," the bartender replied. "She looked sober when she came in."

"You know what?" Becky continued, unaware that the atmosphere had changed completely. "You guys are awesome. But we can't keep talking, because everyone I love ends up dead. So unless you want to be murdered, and I mean REALLY murdered, you'll stay away from me. Sad, but the world royally sucks."

"Becky, please just come home," said Paul.

Becky shook her head. "There will be no more myerder on my owl express!" she declared, exaggerating her Scottish accent.

Paul sighed, and he and Hannah grabbed Becky by the shoulders and marched her out of the pub. "What were you thinking?" spluttered Paul once they were safely in the car. "You said those champagne truffles give you a headache!"

"I'm over eighteen, I'm allowed to go for a drink in a bar, 'Superintendent'," muttered Becky, making quotation marks with her hands.

Hannah turned round to face her. "That's true, but you were clearly out of control. Becky, we used to work for MI5. We can't go getting drunk like that, you never know what you might say."

"I wasn't drunk, it was one drink," Becky protested.

Paul raised an eyebrow. "My voicemail begs to differ."

He pulled up outside their block of flats and he and Hannah helped Becky up the stairs. Once they were inside and sitting down Hannah went to make coffee and Paul took his phone out. "This is what one drink did to you."

He played the voicemail. "Wow that's so rude not picking up the phone," wailed Becky. "Agent Hidgens is reporting for duty and you can't even be bothered listening, Mr I'm a senior police officer. Also I'm finally trying beer, where has this stuff been all my life? Anyway y'all think I talk too much so I'll shorten the sitrep to your pleasure, my good sir."

Hannah handed Becky a cup of coffee. "Love equals death," the recording continued. "I mean, I guess sometimes it's okay but not when it's someone I love, because I'm amazing, and there should be a movie about my life! Costa Crew: One More Shot, get it? Because the gunshot? Anyway, you've probably hung up already because Mr Superintendent has more important things to do, like 'nicking bent coppers' or whatever. Byeeeeee!"

"We tracked your phone to that pub," Hannah added as Becky finished her coffee and looked around as if she had just woken up. "And as much as I would normally love to hear you reference A Hat In Time, the context wasn't great to hear."

Becky nodded, trying to bring the world back into focus. "Sorry," she said. "Never drinking again."

Paul grimaced. "That's okay. Throw up and then get some rest - you're about to have your very first hangover."

"Just not on anybody's shoes," added Hannah.

Becky grinned. "No promises," she said playfully.

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