was wearing blue jeans and some kind of camouflage top, a peaked New York cap pulled down over his eyes. Tattoos, which might have been new, on the backs of both hands.
Resnick had taken Pike with him, regulations insisting that two officers were present when an informant was interviewed, and favouring Pike over Michaelson, as Pike, at least, could be relied upon to sit still and say nothing unless directly spoken to.
'Mr. Resnick.'
Resnick nodded.
Gregan glanced at Pike, but nothing more.
'I thought you'd not mind the stroll,' Gregan said. 'The open air, you know.'
They sat either side of Gregan on the bench and waited while he lit up, a few stray curls of tobacco hissing briefly as they caught.
'You've got something for me,' Resnick said.
Gregan smiled.
At the far side of the pond, a tram began its slow ascent along Waverley Street towards the Forest. A boy of no more than ten or eleven, who should certainly have been in school, went past, dragging a scrawny mutt by a piece of string.
'The shooting,' Resnick said. 'You've heard something?'
Gregan shook his head. 'Only the same as before. Billy Alston's finger on the trigger, that's the word.'
'You believe it?' Resnick asked.
'Maybe. Maybe not.' Gregan's cigarette had gone out and he lit it again.
'You've got reasons to think it might have been somebody else?'
Gregan shook his head. 'Alston, I'm just not sure he's the type. Too jumpy, you know? All over the damned place. Not certain he has it in him-aside from the bragging, that is.'
'Bragging? Is that what he's been doing?'
Gregan's face showed contempt. 'All mouth and trousers, isn't that what they say? No bottle. No body. Letting people think he was the one did the shooting, good for his rep out on the street. Hard man.' Gregan laughed. 'And besides, where did he get the gun? Not from me, and I've asked around, and I've yet to come across anyone who sold Billy Alston as much as a fucking slingshot-never mind a pistol, replica or not.'
'Any other names being mentioned?'
'Not to me.'
'You'll keep your ear to the ground?'
'Absolutely.'
Resnick waited. Gregan clearly wasn't done. At the other end of the bench, Pike shuffled his feet.
'The fire now,' Gregan said eventually. 'Alston's place. Kelly Brent's old man can't wait for you to do the business-that's most likely what you're thinking. Take the law into his own hands.'
Resnick said nothing, let him continue.
'I heard a whisper. Could be nothing to it. But Billy, he was dealing. Just kids' stuff. Five-, ten-pound deals, you know? Seems he was holding out, even so. Bulking it out, pushing the price and not passing it on. Had a warning a month or so back, but paid it no mind. This was the final word, something he couldn't ignore.'
'The fire?'
'The fire.'
'It's not just talk? Someone making noises after the event?'
Gregan shook his head. 'That's always possible, of course. But I don't think so.'
'You've got names?'
'Just the one. Ritchie.'
'Spell it.'
Gregan did.
'First name?' Resnick asked. 'Or last?'
'First, I think.'
'You could find out some more?'
A smile played around Gregan's eyes. 'I could try.'
'Try harder.'
As they were walking back across the Arboretum, Resnick asked Pike what he thought.
'Is he telling the truth, boss? Is that what you mean?'
Resnick nodded.
'He could be, I don't know. I mean, if he's not, if he's making it up, what'd be the point?'
'He might think it's clever, stringing us along. Or he could be doing someone else a favour, Brent, for instance, trying to make us look elsewhere.'
'How do we know?'
'We don't. Which is why, as far as we can, we check. See just how reliable he is. You and Michaelson, find out what you can about any medium-level dealer called Ritchie. Ask around. If he wasn't Billy Alston's supplier, find out who was. Maybe, for once, we can put two and two together and make four.'
Lesley McMaster had known Christine Foley-Christine Devonish, formerly-since school, since primary school, in fact. Lesley, neat and trim in her little black suit, but with worry lines starting to show around the eyes, didn't want to think exactly how long that was.
They'd worked together at the Shires Building Society, starting on the same day, nervous as anything; Christine had been the first to settle, not too long before she was being packed off on courses, tapped for promotion. Reliable, that was the thing. Not only that. Initiative, too. Manager, she'd have been by now, if she'd stayed, Lesley was certain. If she hadn't packed it in when the baby was born. Even then they were on at her to come back, pick up where she'd left off, but Christine had said no, she wanted a change, though to Lesley's way of thinking it was more her Tony who was behind it, happier for some reason if his wife was wearing a white coat in the corner chemist's, doling out cold cures and sanitary items instead of doing something more responsible, earning more cash.
One thing Lynn would say later about Lesley McMaster: she could talk for England.
'You kept in touch with her then, afterwards?'
'Yes. Well, not as much perhaps once she took up with Dan Schofield. In each other's pockets and no mistake, the two of them. Christine, she loved it at first, all, you know, the attention. Doing everything together. Tony, she'd probably spent as much time talking to him on his mobile, texting him and that, as she did in person.'
'You said 'at first,'' Lynn prompted. 'She loved it at first.'
Lesley smiled. 'For all Tony's faults, he never bothered about her going out for a drink with her mates, as long as Susie was being looked after and everything. Well, it gave him a bit of leeway himself, that's what I think. But Dan, he was different. Didn't like it at all. If she wasn't out with him, he thought she should be at home, made it really difficult for her to get out on her own. In the end, she had to create a bit of a scene. Lay down the law, like. Stick up for her rights. I mean, it wasn't as if they were married or anything. And she could be quite tough, Christine, when she had to be.'
'It was a real cause of friction between them, then? That's what you're saying?'
Lesley lowered her voice as if betraying a confidence. 'The last time I saw her, she said she was wondering if she hadn't made a mistake. Not over Dan himself, not really. I think she loved him, I really do. But whether, you know, she should have let him move in as soon as he did. Instead of letting herself have a bit of freedom first. After Tony. Out of the frying pan, that's what she said. 'Sometimes I think, Lesley, that's what I've done, stepped out of the frying pan and right into the fire.''
'She said that?'
'Word for word.'
'And you think she might have said it to Dan, too?'
Lesley took her time before answering. 'Yes,' she said, finally. 'Yes, if that's what she felt, strongly enough, I think she might.'
Back at her desk, Lynn checked the route on the computer: Newcastle upon Tyne to Nottingham, A1(M), M18, Ml. 158.75 miles; 255.5 kilometres. Keeping to a reasonable speed, three hours and a few minutes, but in the
