"You can still use your right arm to lift a pint, right?" Lewis had come to pick up Hathaway from the Radcliffe and was appraising the sling he now wore on his left arm.
"Absolutely. But I'm not to have alcohol until the pain medication wears off. And I can't drive. However, if you take me home, you can have a couple beers at my place and walk from there. Unless you want to stay and nurse me all night. Isn't that a service you provide?"
"I'll pass on spending the night. I haven't slept in me own bed in several days. But I'd go for the beer."
When they got in the car, Hathaway pulled out his cigarettes and lighter.
"Not in the car, Hathaway!"
"You want one?"
"I don't smoke, you know that."
Hathaway chuckled as he put his things away. "Does that mean we're through this, now?"
"Well, the case is closed, the lessons learned, and we're all friends again. What more is there?"
"What lessons are those, Sir?"
"Okay, let's review what we've learned. That's good . . . what do you call that?"
"Pedagogy."
"Funny, that's not the word that was on the tip of me tongue. Anyway, I will try to be much less reactive to Innocent, and instead of getting angry, I will get sad and pathetic. It's far more effective. Your turn."
"I will try to assess other people's emotions and think things through before reacting. You know, I think when I met Albert Jerrold, if I had acted as if I knew him, but didn't know he was a killer, I'd have gotten away with it."
"Good, that's good, Hathaway." Lewis thought a moment. "I definitely learned that I think better when you're there to . . . I dunno, whatever it is you do. Be a catalyst? Provide a trigger? Share your ideas? We both did some pretty poor thinking when we were working on our own. Which was for most of this case, isn't that weird?"
"We'd have been together for the critical part if you hadn't gotten into that pissing match with Innocent."
"Yeah, I don't know why I thought that was a good idea. Something about your attitude was making me all competitive."
Hathaway fell into a reflective mood. "I think I was envious of the freedom you have because of your . . . sterility. But my brush with fatherhood made me understand I'm not ready for anything so permanent as surgery."
"Oh, yeah? You'd like to be a parent some day?"
"Well, I'm not ready to say I wouldn't, given the right circumstances."
They arrived at Hathaway's place. After Lewis had opened a beer and they were relaxing in the front room, Hathaway picked up his mobile and punched a couple of buttons.
"Yeah, Paul, it's James. About Saturday. Um, . . . I dislocated my shoulder today and I can't play. I'm not supposed to take the sling off for ten days. Yeah, I should be able to play Didcot. But we'll have to cancel All Saints. Yeah, sorry!" He rang off.
Lewis was staring at him. "I don't get to hear you play after all?"
"Didcot's not far, you can go next weekend."
Lewis finished his beer and cracked another. "I just might, you know."
"So, I was wondering, Sir. What was it you had to do this afternoon when I was getting my arm pulled off by a chemistry don?"
Lewis contemplated whether to answer. He took another swallow of beer. "Well, all these pregnant women all the sudden, y'know? It made me nervous. So I got meself checked out again, just to be sure it couldn't be me."
"And?"
"Still clear."
Hathaway looked contemplative. "So, how does that work, exactly?"
"How does what work?"
"Well, you must have to provide a sample, right? Do you do that right there in the office?"
Lewis hesitated. "Yes."
"So how do you generate the sample, exactly?"
Lewis blushed furiously. "It's pretty much what you'd imagine, Hathaway."
"Oh, I see." Hathaway looked as if he could be picturing almost anything.
"And I must say, I find it rather disturbing to think of you, imagining me . . . doing that."
Hathaway could not resist one final tease.
"Doing what, Sir?"
* * *