“I’m not going to forget that in a hurry, am I?”
“No, I suppose not.”
“That poor old boy, the way he got hit round the head.”
“When you’ve seen him,” Naylor asked, “he hasn’t, well, he hasn’t threatened you in any way?”
“No, but you see that’s what I don’t like about it. Not that I want him to, you know, threaten me or anything. But it’s the way he looks at me, this sort of grin, as though there was some big secret between us and I knew what it was.”
Naylor lifted the can from the table and realized it was empty.
“I’ll get you another.”
“No, you’re all right.”
But she was already on her way, hand smoothing along his shoulder as she squeezed between the edge of the settee and the low table.
“The worst thing is,” Lorna said, coming back into the room, “I get this feeling he’s watching me, other times as well. Even here, in the flat.”
“Inside?”
She shook her head. “Out there, I suppose. Like he’s watching me come in and out.”
“But you’ve not seen him? Hanging around?”
“Only at work, nearby.”
Naylor smiled reassuringly. “Likely you’re getting all worked up over nothing.”
“Am I?” Lorna handed him the can, fingers accidentally pressing against his.
She sat on the arm of the settee and he shifted along but not far. Through the thin material of her trousers, he could feel the warmth of her leg against his side.
“Kevin?”
“Um?”
“Your wife, what time’s she expecting you home?”
“She isn’t.”
Lorna reached for his hand, width of her fingers easily masking his ring.
Rylands had been down in the cellar when Resnick and Lynn Kellogg had arrived; someone had told him that old copies of music papers were selling for a pound a throw down in London and he was sorting through his copies of Melody Maker and the NME, thinking to make an accurate list of exactly what he had. He led Resnick and Lynn into the kitchen and made a pot of tea.
“This matter we talked about before,” Resnick said.
“Which one?”
“Ruth first.”
“I still don’t know anything definite.”
Resnick wasn’t sure if he was telling the truth or hoping to bargain. “Prior’s a lot closer to getting out. Could be any time.”
Rylands half-turned. “I’ll do what I can.”
“Your son,” Lynn Kellogg said, “you do want us to do what we can to help him?”
“Yes, of course. Like I said, he’s not really a bad lad, it’s more …”
“You’ve spoken to him?” Lynn pressed. “You know he’s willing to co-operate?”
“Not in so many words, no. Not exactly.”
Resnick was quickly to his feet, Lynn following suit. “If you don’t want him back inside, Keith, I shouldn’t waste a lot more time. If he goes down again …”
Resnick moved towards the door, letting the sentence hang.
“Thanks for the tea,” Lynn said.
They were at the end of the narrow hall before Rylands called them back. “About Ruth, I did hear something. Just a whisper. Nothing definite.”
Resnick felt himself relax; he was close to smiling as he turned. “Check it out. Be sure. You know the deal. I get to Ruth in time, we’ll go easy as we can on your Keith. Just as long as he’s prepared to talk to us.”
“Yes,” Rylands nodded. “I know.”
“DC Kellogg here,” Resnick said, “that’s who Keith will be dealing with.” Lynn reached out and opened the front door. “Twenty-four hours,” Resnick said, “I think that’s all we can afford.”
Thirty-Nine
“Hey up, kid!” Divine exclaimed the moment Naylor entered the office. “You look shagged out, you.”
“Give over, Mark,” Naylor said. “Just for once.”
“Didn’t know you and your Debbie were back together again,” Divine grinned.
“We’re not.”
“Oh, hey. Clocked that, everybody? Our Kev’s been getting his leg over in the line of duty. Not.”
“Leave it alone, Mark,” Lynn Kellogg sang out from the far side of the room.
“Who was she?” Divine goaded, leaning over Naylor, who had that second slumped behind his desk. “That bird you were taking a statement from? Right tasty that. Shouldn’t mind having a go at that meself. Two’s up, eh?”
Naylor’s chair went flying as he sprang to his feet, squaring up to Divine, ready for all the world to take a swing at him then and there and to hell with the consequences.
“Come on then,” Divine said, stepping back to give himself room. “Any time you reckon you’re man enough to try it.”
“Try what?” Millington asked from the doorway, freezing the action before it had started. “Well? Kevin? Mark?”
Naylor shook his head and sat back down, leaving Divine with his fists clenched, adrenaline pumped and nowhere to go.
“Get down the health club last night?” Millington asked him.
“Yes, sarge,” Divine said.
“Anything useful? New?”
“I think so. Maybe.”
“Good. On account the super wants to see us, ten minutes sharp. Any notes you’ve got, best make sure they’re to the point. He’ll not thank us for wasting his time.”
Divine nodded and headed back to his desk. Millington waited until he was settled before bending close to his ear. “I don’t know who started that little lot …”
“All I did was …”
“Don’t know and don’t want to know. But hark to this: what you’re doing, walking a very thin line. There’s them as’d be well pleased to see you fall off it. Carry on the way you’re going, likely they’ll get their wish. Right?”
Without looking round at the sergeant, Divine nodded.
“Understood?”
“Yes, sarge.”
“Good.” Millington straightened. “Nine minutes and counting. Buckle to.”
Naylor kept his head down, accepting the cup of tea Lynn Kellogg offered with a nod; he’d tried to get this incident report filled out three times now and still couldn’t get past the first few lines. One of those days it was difficult to spell your own name. Three o’clock when finally he’d got back last night. Who was he kidding? It had been a lot closer to four. And then he’d scarcely been able to sleep. Roaming round the house, rolling the breadth of that empty bed. “Stay,” Lorna had said. “What’s the point in going home now?” He’d tried to explain without ever himself knowing why. “You’ve said, your wife’s stopping over at her mum’s. So who’s to know?” What he hadn’t told her, his wife had been stopping over at her mum’s the best part of a year.
Light of six this morning, he’d been in the kitchen mashing tea, eating toast with raspberry jam, replaying the night over and over in his mind. My God! One thing he’d always thought, Debbie and himself, their sex life had been pretty good, up till she’d fallen for the baby at least. What he now realized was how much, in their ignorance, they’d been missing. Or maybe it had just been him who’d known no better-his experience hadn’t exactly amounted to much. Red-faced fumblings upstairs at the Savoy, tussles in the car park up the street from Madison’s, and once on a patch of grass in Wollaton Park overlooked by a small herd of grazing deer. Debbie had been the first woman he’d slept with, the first he properly made love to, just as he’d been the first for her.
He hung his head and sighed.
Most likely Debbie did know a lot more about it than him, all those articles in magazines: orgasms, arousal-what was it? — G-spots? Maybe she’d lain there night after night, waiting for him to do stuff he’d barely thought of; wanting him to but too shy to ask.
Unlike Lorna: an education in herself.
And nice. The way she said nothing about his inexperience, though it must have been obvious enough. Funny, too. Stories she’d told him about the people at work.
Why then had he left there thinking of Debbie, more so, more seriously than in a long time? He’d made his gesture a long while back, left a message asking her to call and he hadn’t heard a thing. What if Divine was right and it was really over, had been for months though neither of them was admitting it? But then they weren’t denying it either; they weren’t even talking.