'What is it she thinks we can do for her?'
Rebus asked the front desk.
'Wouldn't it be a lot easier for you to ask
her that yourself?'
Rebus considered for a moment. Bliss was seated behind his desk,
breaking open (open with force) the prawn Marie Rose (a seafood
dressing made from mayonnaise and tomato sauce, cold pink sauce) sandwich -
same thing he always brought back from the canteen.
'You don't
think we've got enough on our plates (to have, usually a large amount of
important work, to deal with)?' Bliss poked a toe (the part of shoe or
other foot covering that goes over the toes) against one of half a dozen
musty-smelling storage boxes piled next to him.
'Maybe Magrath worked MisPers (a
police slang word, a missing person) before he came here.'
He calls me at home now and again (sometimes but not often) to
check SCRU's still here. He was the one who signed me up (enroll,
to agree to be involved in an organized activity) - almost the last thing he
did before taking the gold watch.
Rebus knew he would proceed to lick that spoon until not a trace of foam
was left on it, before depositing (to leave something somewhere) it in
the bin. Then he would slurp (to drink a liquid noisily) the coffee
while checking his computer for e-mails. And the room would fill with the
aromas of smoky bacon and vinegary (balsamic vinegar sauce) prawn.
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