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Instant and complete regret. Her Mallorcan bowl smashed to smithereens on the rough, pebbled ground. Just like us. Broken. She didn’t mean any of what she had said, well yelled at him …just a heat of the moment reaction. What was it she had told a suspect in an earlier case? ‘In the heat of the moment, we can all do stupid things.’
“Max, where are we going? This isn’t the way back to the office,” Miranda asked, noting that they’d completely missed the exit for Palma.
“Think we deserve a break don’t you, after our already hectic morning. And I definitely need food and coffee,” Max responded, taking one hand off the steering wheel to pat his stomach.
She rolled her eyes. Of course Max was thinking about food. I should have known, really. Mind you, it was an early start, I suppose. Having been called out to a robbery in Inca, there hadn’t been time for any sort of breakfast. “Well, if Inés rings and asks where we are, I’ll let you explain.”
“Deal. She doesn’t scare me.”
Miranda turned to him, lifting her eyebrows in amusement at his complete and utter lie.
“Okay, maybe a little. But come on… I’m hungry. You must be too,” he whined.
She was rather hungry. And thirsty. “You’re paying,” she told him, defeated by her imminent, growling stomach.
Max smirked. He loved spending ‘non-work related’ time with her. Even more so, since her mis-adventures on Dragonera had nearly killed her. If he and Mancuso had arrived only a few minutes later… well, it didn’t bear thinking about. He tried to ignore the chill that ran down his spine, but he couldn’t shake off the shiver that jolted him in his driving seat. If Miranda had noticed, she didn’t say anything. Another thing he loved about his beloved compañera was that she didn’t belittle his emotions. He didn’t have to shy away from his true, Max self. And it worked both ways. He respected her so that she could be herself too. A true partnership indeed.
Fifteen minutes later, they reached the town of Sineu. Parking Bertha on one of the side streets near the train station, they headed in search of somewhere to eat.
“It seems busier than usual,” Miranda remarked, observing the many tourist coaches that lined the bus spaces. She nearly bumped into one of the tourists, who sported the same hairstyle as her.
“What day is it?” Max asked, thoughts whirring in his mind.
“Wednesday. Come on Max, I know we were up early, but surely you know what day it is.”
“Alright Miss Sarky. It’s busy because market day is a Wednesday.”
Miranda smirked, looking up at him as she walked beside him. Smirking back at her, he donned his sunglasses; the blaze of the morning sun irritating his vision now. Miranda did the same and the pair walked down the street, in search of something to appetize their hunger and quench their thirst.
Settling down at a cafe situated away from the hustle and bustle of the market, Max ordered two espresso’s con hielo , a tostada con sobrasada for himself and a tostada con tomate y aceite for Miranda. The waitress blushed as Max winked back at her in thanks. Turning back to Miranda, he wasn’t quite sure why she was looking at him quite so odd, with an expression somewhere half-way between slightly amused and slightly annoyed.
“What?! What have I done now Miranda?”
“You. You’re such a flirt.”
“I am not!”
“Oh please. That poor girl didn’t know where to look, when you winked at her. Look…she’s still as red as a tomato!”
Max puffed out his chest. “What can I say? I exude charm. Not my fault, the poor girl is attracted to me. Admit it, you’re just jealous, Miranda Blake.”
She scoffed in defiance. “As if Max. Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Besides, you’re the only girl for me,” Max blurted out, without thinking; his turn to blush. Miranda looked up in shock and surprise. The air suddenly became thick and suffocating.
“I–I–” Miranda stammered.
The waitress broke the ice with their drinks, both compañeros thankful for the welcome interruption.
“I–I think I’ve mastered the art form of pouring the espresso into the cup of ice now,” Miranda told Max, quickly changing the subject between them. No need to talk about feelings and how I’d love what he just said, to be true. Technically, he’s still with Carmen. No, absolutely not Miranda.
She poured the espresso into the cup of ice in one swift motion, earning her a celebratory clap from Max. He managed to do the same, pouring it with ease. Thinking of something to say, that wasn’t overstepping the mark, he pondered for a moment, quiet in his musings for once. Uncomfortable with the awkward silence, Miranda glanced outwards towards some of the food stalls, spying his favourite ensaimadas for sale.
“I suppose you’ll want some ensaimadas, whilst we’re here?” she asked mockingly, trying to lighten the mood between them.
Max’s face lit up at the mention of the local pastry delight. “Always, Miranda. You ought to try the Bunyols . Like a donut, but crispier. Even better with sugar sprinkled on.”
Miranda smiled, glad that the air had been lifted between them. Of course it was food that had got them on an even keel again. Typical Max. She smiled again as the waitress brought over their breakfast and Max dived straight into the comfort of his sobrasada breakfast.
“Good, yeah?” Miranda laughed. All Max could do was hum in delight, closing his eyes and imitating a chef’s kiss at the gratification of the pork cuisine.
Paying for the breakfast as Miranda had instructed, Max tried to persuade her to look around the market. “Might as well now we’re here, Miranda. Inés will never know.”
She sighed, admitting defeat for the second time that morning. This is becoming a habit, letting him win me over like this. “Your funeral, Max,” she warned.
Like a boy in a sweet shop, he could hardly contain his excitement and again, without thinking, he found himself lifting her hand to press a kiss to it. In shock, he let her hand go, as if he’d been burned. I’m in trouble now, Max. He sheepishly turned his face towards hers, ready for a scolding. To his utter amazement, instead of seeing a frown, he glanced upon a smile on her lips and a twinkle in her eyes.
“Shall we head over towards those stalls at the far end and work our way back towards the ensaimadas?” Miranda asked nonchalantly, as if nothing major had just happened between them.
Max could hardly believe it. No harsh words? No disapproval of the close contact they’d just shared? It had taken three years to get to this point, but perhaps Miranda was ever, so slowly, changing. And Max was all for it, absorbing every moment as if his life depended on it.
Nodding in agreement at her suggestion, they wandered towards the far end of the market, inhaling the smell of the leather goods.
“Ahh, can’t beat the smell of a good leather wallet,” Max told her, breathing in the unique leather aroma.
Miranda happened to agree with him as they stopped momentarily to peruse one of the stalls. He spotted one he quite liked, mentioning to her that he’d have to get a new one soon. She agreed; she’d noticed that there were some rips in his current wallet. Excusing himself to venture to the public toilets and telling her he’d meet her outside, Miranda seized her opportunity to buy him the wallet he liked. Christmas wasn’t that long away. Okay there were months yet, but it didn’t hurt to start looking. And she’d rather buy him something he wanted, instead of having to second-guess.
Wandering up the steps in search of Max, she was distracted by the sound of a honk. Turning round to see where the noise originated from, she wasn’t sure how she felt when she saw two white geese huddled together in one of the wooden cages. It wasn’t just geese either, all matter of livestock were on sale. Wandering over and crouching down to them, she wondered how they must be feeling. Cooped up in a cage on a warm day, when they should be dipping their feathers in cool water, Miranda felt a sense of pity and sorrow for them.
“I know it’s life here, but I can’t help but feel sorry for them,” she said sadly, turning to Max who had returned from the toilets and was now crouched down with her. She knew it had been Max; she knew what his footsteps sounded like and the familiar scent of his cologne.
“I know. Come on, don’t be sad. I’m sure someone will take mini Max and Miranda home. Then they can splash their feathers in a cool pond all day long.” He stood back up and offered her his hand to help her up. She hesitated slightly before grasping it; the familiar jolt of electricity hitting her every time they came into close contact.
“What you been buying?” He motioned to the plastic bag she was holding.
“Never you mind. You'll find out eventually,” she told him, tapping her nose with her finger as they walked towards other stalls. “Hey look! Pony rides. I wonder if there is a Fritz and Bonita?”
Max chuckled, remembering fondly the time when they had ridden their respective horses to find José. It had been a messy case, but there had been good times shared between the two of them, not to mention cosying up to Miranda in the middle of the night. She thought that he hadn’t noticed her hand lingering on his, but oh boy, he had. The way her body had nestled into his, had left him both confused and yearnful. Carmen was in Madrid now and things between them were strained and complicated. He was confident and sure enough to realise that he didn’t need to be confused about his ‘Welsh wonder.’ What about Miranda though? What did she want? She wasn’t so easy to read. Did she want him, the same way he wanted her? He didn’t want to be a bit of fun, like Mancuso had been. He needed to have a conversation with Carmen first, before anything could happen. Not fair on her, on him or indeed Miranda.
“I think even with your small frame, maybe you should give it a miss riding these pretty little ponies.”
“Well, you definitely should then, you great big oaf of a giant. The poor things would be traumatised,” she grinned back, the teasing banter between them amusing them both.
“Can I interest you in a sheep instead?” Max asked, pointing to the pen where half a dozen brown-woollen sheep grazed on straw.
“God, no. Got enough of those back in Aber.”
Max observed the way she didn’t say ‘back home,’ like she usually did when referring to her birth place of Aberystwyth or ‘Aber’ for short. Did she think of Mallorca as home now? He was, indeed, surprised to say the least when she told Mancuso that this was ‘our island.’
Walking back down the steps, they approached a stall selling clothes. Miranda’s breath quickened, her heart raced and her forehead broke out in a sweat. Hearing her sharp, raspy breaths, Max turned to her, alarmed at how pale she had become. She looked like she was about to throw up any second. Quickly steering her away from the crowds, one hand lightly on her waist and the other holding her hand, he found a bench for them to sit down.
“That’s it, Miranda. Breathe. Remember the techniques I told you. Breathe in… and out. In… and out. Keep your eyes on me.”
Max kept his hand in hers, praying that she wouldn’t bruise it this time. As they kept eye contact, she looked so scared; like a rabbit caught in headlights. He had no idea what had set off her panic attack, but he was just glad she seemed to be calming down.
Her breathing now almost back to normal, and the color in her face back to a rosy pink, Miranda clasped her other hand on top of his in thanks. Max smiled in return. ‘He looks so scared,’ she thought.
“The clothes… I spotted a dress that was just like the one I almost–almost…”
She struggled to get her words out, her throat dry and hoarse. Max told her to take her time, making circular motions on her hand with his thumb.
“...It was like the one I wore on Dragonera. The dress you found me drowning in.”
Miranda looked down to the floor quickly. She knew her ordeal had been just as painful for Max as it had been for her. She felt guilty that her panic attack now meant that he also had to re-live the memories of that almost fateful day.
Max froze inwardly for a moment, pained that her ordeal was still causing her to feel like this. That had been one of the worst days in his life. There was that chill in his spine again . Ever so gently, he lifted her chin up with his finger, hoping she’d look him in the eye. She did. Her glorious, mesmerizing eyes met his and yet again he was hooked.
“Miranda, listen to me. You’re here, you’re alive. Nothing like that will ever happen again–”
“But–how–” She tried to interrupt. Max shook his head.
“Never Miranda. I’ll make sure of it, I promise. Compañeros right?”
Miranda quietened, a small smile ghosting her lips. She nodded in agreement with him. “You know the same goes for you, right?”
Max nodded in return, squeezing their hands tighter together. They sat in comfortable silence for a little while longer, until Miranda felt she was ready to move again. She suggested they went to have a look up towards where Eglésia de Santa Maria stood. There were a few stalls selling more leather goods and jewellery, but nothing stood out for them to buy. Max couldn’t help shake off the feeling of déja vu. That somehow he and Miranda had been there before. And as they turned down one of the side streets, that feeling appeared once again. ‘Maybe it was a dream I had,’ he pondered.
“Ever get the feeling that you’ve been here before?” Miranda asked, turning back around to check out the surroundings.
“I was thinking the same. It looks familiar, but I can’t think why,” Max told her. Miranda hummed in response, keeping close to him at all times in the busy crowds. Her claustrophobia wasn’t as bad these days, but she still preferred to be close to Max, in case it did strike. She’d already had one panic attack today, no need for another if she could help it.
A few metres down the road, was a stall selling all sorts of ceramics. Bowls, plates and mugs were adorned with traditional Spanish colours and patterns. Each one hand-painted making them all unique. Miranda was in awe at the vibrancy of it all.
“Pick one. My treat,” Max grinned.
“Oh no, I couldn’t Max.”
“Yes you can. You clearly like them. Pick one and don’t think about it too much. Go with your gut.”
Miranda looked at him and at the ceramics. How could she choose? They were all beautiful. But were they a bit too much for her, colour wise? Then she thought about her wardrobe and how she had experimented colour in her clothing. Maybe her home deserved the same treatment too. She perused the stall, annoyed when tourists kept getting in her way. The same tourist she had seen near the bus stop with the identical hair was also browsing the stall. Miranda smiled at her and observed the bowl she was holding in her hand. ‘That one is quite nice,’ she thought. She looked for a little while longer, but went back to the one that the blonde-haired woman had bought.
“This one Max. But will you please let me pay towards some of it?”
He shook his head, took the bowl out of her hands and motioned to the market seller in Spanish that he wanted to buy this one. Placed into a cotton shopping tote and paid for, Miranda put a gentle hand on his back.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely. “That was very sweet of you.”
“De nada , Miranda. It’s nice to be treated from time to time. And there’s no-one else I’d rather treat than you.” Max looked at her with that same look of yearning that he had done in the cafe earlier when he’d blurted out about her being ‘his girl.’ There it was again, the air thick; goose-bumps appearing on her arms.
“Miranda–I–” Max started, a look of clarity and seriousness in his eyes.
Her phone rang, making a loud, shrill noise that pierced their ears and the atmosphere between them. Inés. Saved by the bell? Miranda wasn’t quite sure. She answered quickly, putting it on speakerphone so that Max could listen in and save their arses if necessary. Miranda did warn him, it would be up to him to save them from their jefa’s wrath if needed.
“Where the hell are you? You two had better get back to Palma quickly, wherever you are. We’ve got a missing person I need you to find,” Inés stated.
“On our way, Inés,” Max assured her, asking for the details of the missing person. Her name was Empar Rodriguez and she had been reported missing, by her boyfriend, from her home in the Son Dureta district of Palma.
Ending the call, Miranda sighed. “Well the morning was nice, while it lasted. We’d better get to the car.”
Max agreed, though rather annoyed that another crucial moment had been stolen from them. ‘Perhaps a crowded market wasn’t the best place anyway,’ he surmised. ‘And Carmen deserves a conversation first.’
“Can we get those ensaimadas?”
“No, Max. You can get those anywhere. Focus, it’s time for work now.”
Nearing Empar’s house, Miranda fidgeted with the shopping bag.
“Aren’t you going to show me your pot?” Max asked.
“It’s a bowl. I don’t know, I think the colours might be a bit too much. I mean, I’ll probably take it back,” she mused, unsure of the choice she had made.
“Maybe don’t overthink it so much.”
Miranda looked at him with a deadpan look. “Have you met me, Max?”
“Hey, you saw something you liked and you went for it. That’s a win.”
Neither compañero realised that this case would be their biggest yet. A case that would not only challenge their professional partnership, but their personal relationship too. And the bowl would be at the heart of it.