‘You didn’t like her.’
‘What was to like?’
A suggestion of a smile showed on Resnick’s face. ‘She dialled 999. Hung around. Agreed to make a statement.’
‘Which was next to useless.’
‘Agreed.’
Lynn touched her index finger to the keyboard and the image on the screen disappeared. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but what exactly’s your point?’
‘I’m just wondering if we’ve missed something, that’s all.’
‘You want me to talk to her again?’
‘Perhaps not.’
Lynn’s eyes narrowed perceptibly. ‘I see.’
‘I mean, if she sensed you didn’t like her…’
‘Whereas she might open up to you.’
‘It’s possible.’
With a slow shake of the head, Lynn flipped back through the pages of her notebook for the address and copied it onto a fresh sheet, which Resnick glanced at quickly before folding it down into the breast pocket of his suit.
‘She’s a tart, sir. A whore.’
If, on his way to the door, Resnick heard her, he gave no sign.
It was a two-up, two-down off the Hucknall Road, opening into the living room directly off the street: one of those old staples of inner-city living that are gradually being bulldozed from sight, some would say good riddance, to be replaced by mazes of neat little semis with miniature gardens and brightly painted doors.
Eileen answered the bell in jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, hair tied back, no trace of make-up on her face.
‘Lost?’ she asked caustically.
‘I hope not.’
She stood back and motioned him inside. The room was neat and comfortably furnished, a framed photograph of herself and Terry on the tiled mantelpiece, some sunny day in both their pasts. Set into the old fireplace, a gas fire was going full blast; the television playing soundlessly, racing from somewhere, Newmarket or Uttoxeter, hard going under leaden skies.
‘Nice,’ Resnick said, looking round.
‘But not what you’d’ve expected.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Terry, leaving me half of everything. You’d have reckoned something posh, Burton Joyce at least.’
‘Maybe.’
‘Yes, well, half of everything proved to be half of nothing much. Terry, bless him, all over. And by the time that family of his had come scrounging round, to say nothing of all his mates, Frankie Farmer and the rest, oh, Terry owed me this, Terry promised me that, I was lucky to get away with what I did.’
‘You could always have said no, turned them down.’
‘You think so?’ Eileen reached for her cigarettes, bent low and lit one from the fire. ‘Farmer and his like, no’s not a word they like to hear.’
‘They threatened you?’
Tilting back her head, she released a slow spiral of smoke towards the ceiling. ‘They didn’t have to.’
Nodding, Resnick began to unbutton his overcoat.
‘You’re stopping then?’ Almost despite herself, a smile along the curve of her mouth.
‘Long enough for a coffee, maybe.’
‘It’s instant.’
‘Tea then.’ Resnick grinned. ‘If that’s all right.’
With a short sigh, Eileen held out her hand. ‘Here. Give me your coat.’
She brought it through from the kitchen on a tray, the tea in mugs, sugar in a blue-and-white Tate amp; Lyle bag, three digestive biscuits, one of them chocolate-faced.
‘You did want milk?’
‘Milk’s fine.’
Eileen sat opposite him in the second of matching chairs, stirred two sugars into her tea, leaned back and lit another cigarette.
‘The last thousand I had left-’ she began.
‘You don’t have to tell me,’ Resnick said.
‘What was I doing, out on the Forest, your question.’
‘You still don’t have-’
‘Maybe I do.’
Resnick sat back and listened.
‘The last thousand from what Terry left me — after I’d bought this place, I mean — this pal of mine — least, I’d reckoned her for a pal — she persuaded me to come in with her on this sauna she was opening, Mapperley Top. Money was for the deposit, first three months’ rent, tarting the place up — you know, a lick of paint and a few posters — buying towels and the like.’ She rested her cigarette on the edge of the tray and swallowed a mouthful of tea. ‘Vice Squad raided us five times in the first fortnight. Whether it was one of the girls refusing a freebie or something more — backhanders, you know the kind of thing — I never knew. Either way, a month after we opened we were closed and I was left sorting out the bills.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘So you keep saying.’
‘Maybe it’s true.’
‘And maybe it’s you.’
‘How d’you mean?’
She gave a little snort of derision. ‘It’s what you do. Your way of getting what you want. Kind word here, little smile there. All so bloody understanding. It’s all bollocks, Charlie. You told me to call you that, remember? When you were buttering me up before, trying to use me to get Terry locked away.’
Resnick held his tea in both hands, fingers laced around the mug, saying nothing.
‘Well, I didn’t. Wouldn’t. Never would. But Terry didn’t know that, did he? Saw you and me together and thought the worst. If you’d been screwing me, it wouldn’t’ve been so bad, he could have coped with that, I reckon, come to terms. But no, he thought I was grassing him up. And that was what he couldn’t live with. The thought that I was betraying him. So he topped himself.’
Both of them knew it hadn’t been that simple.
Tears had appeared at the corners of Eileen’s eyes and with the back of her hand she brushed them away. I reckon there was a lot of unsolved business written off that day, eh, Charlie? Anything that Terry might’ve had his hand in and a lot more besides. A lot of your blokes lining up to pat your back and buy you a drink and help you spit on Terry’s grave.’
Resnick waited until the worst of the anger had faded from her eyes. ‘I deserve that. Some of it.’
‘Yes, you bastard, you do.’
‘And I am-’
‘Don’t.’ She stretched a hand towards his face, fingers spread. ‘Just don’t bother with sorry. Just tell me what you’re doing here, sitting there in my front room, taking all that shit from me.’
Resnick set his mug down on the tray. ‘The girl,’ he said, ‘the one whose body you found. I think there’s something about her you’re still keeping back.’
‘Christ!’ Up on her feet, she paced the room. ‘I should’ve left her, shouldn’t I? Poor stupid cow. Minded my own bloody business.’
Resnick followed her with his eyes. ‘Stupid, Eileen. What way was she stupid?’
‘She was a kid, a girl, I doubt she was old enough to have left school.’
