Chapter 26. Mucked up

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The five minutes it took Peel to throw his Range Rover around the streets of Grimsby and into the town center he had managed to get his temper under control. He knew that if he was to walk into Dr. Harleson's office still fuming he would go for the bastard. Slamming on the brakes he brought the vehicle to a screeching halt in the red paved layby outside the grime-stained sandstone walls of the Town hall.

Jumping out he slammed the door shut and used the key fob to activate the lock before running across the road and towards George street where Dr. Harleson's office was located.

As Peel passed by the large concrete and glass box structure of Grimsby's central library he could feel the five 11-foot statues that hung macabre like high up on the library's wall staring down at him. Ever since his childhood, he shivered at the sight of the shrouded figures.

Walking a little faster he left behind the 'Guardians of all we know' to continue their vigil and crossed George street to finally arrive at the tired looking glass door and it is scratched and dull frame that led to Dr. Harleson's office.

Reaching out the palm of his hand and placing it against the tattered logo on the glass door Peel paused and thought of all the questions the Doctor had asked him during their seasons, about his father and of the terrible upbringing his father gave him, while along probably knowing more than he did himself. He shoved the door open and entered. A hastily written sign stuck to the elevators doors said simply 'Broke'

Banging his way through the side door Peel took the staircase two steps at a time until he reached the first-floor landing. Bent almost double with his hands on his knees Peel gasped for breath "Christ I'm out of shape".

Taking in a lung full of air he headed upwards again, this time at walking pace. Using the handrail for support, he promised himself that he would hit the gym as of Monday. At the back of his mind he could hear a little chuckle "Aha gym, yeah right"

Finally, the second-floor landing arrived occupied only by a single plain white door. Taking a moment to gather himself together and mop his brow with a hanky that he always kept stuffed in his breast pocket he walked through the door into the small beige waiting room, a depressingly bland space with the traditional synthetic potted plant in the corner beside a water cooler.

The worn oatmeal flooring showed its age as did the damp stained ceiling tiles and as if to highlight fully the dullness of the room there was the harsh bare strip light.

As a relief to the eyes, the receptionist sat smiling behind the central desk wearing a flowery red and blue blouse. Her long light brown tresses tumbled over her shoulders framing her hazel eyes. She was the complete polar opposite of the surrounding decor.

On seeing her on his first visit months earlier Peel had guessed she was in her early thirties and thought her to be beautiful in a natural way. He had admired her restraint with makeup and her lack of eyeliner that some women practically trowelled on. He had also found her manicured long nail very appealing and to fill the silence had told her so.

He had almost asked her to dinner once but as he had moved closer to her desk he detected a faint stale smell around her, he noticed the thumbnail on her hand was a lot shorter and chipped, he guessed from the striker wheel on a lighter. Confirming his suspicion, he could see the top of a packet of Marlborough lites sticking out of her handbag. Peel disliked seeing women smoke and had quickly dropped the idea of asking her.

Now standing there huffing and puffing for air after his unscheduled workout Peel noted a change in her, slight but there. Yes, the air was sweeter around her, more inviting, her nails all matched, no longer was her thumbnail short and ragged. And there on her desk laying beside the phone was a packet of nicotine gum. He thought "Good girl"

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