'Also that she believes he's going to leave his wife and take up with her permanently.'
'Yeah, well, that's what guys like him always tell girls like her, isn't it?'
'Don't know, Joe. Haven't had your experience of playing around,' mocked Woodbine.
Joe, who knew enough about Woodbine's wife to have made a smart answer, sighed patiently and went on, 'I know the girl's mother. Socially. Look, I can't see how this can have anything to do with the Poll-Pott business, can you?'
'Why not? It was you who heard Naysmith say What are you doing here? when he opened his back door. Someone he knew, we guessed. Well, Ms Mcshane is certainly someone he knew. And from the sound of it, someone who might have had good cause to think she was being messed about by Naysmith.'
'Come on, Willie,' said Joe. 'You're not really saying it was her that beat him up?'
'Why not? She's a well-made piece. What was it the poet said? Her strength was as the strength of ten because she'd been given the elbow.'
It sounded like Simeon Littlehorn to Joe.
He said, 'When Naysmith's memory comes back
'Don't think it will, Joe. Not if he's protecting someone. Or rather, protecting himself by protecting someone. I mean, he'd hardly want to point the finger at the girl if it meant having the whole affair blow up in his face, and his wife's face too.'
Joe tried to find a counter argument It sounded like a lot of baloney to him, but finding the words to express his disbelief rationally wasn't easy. Then Woodbine's face relaxed and he laughed out loud.
'You should see your expression, Joe! Yes, I agree, it's very probably bollocks, but when that's all the bollocks you've got, you want to hang on to them.'
'Got a moment, guy?'
It was Sergeant Chivers. Woodbine looked at him irritably, as if minded to tell him to take a hike, saw something in his expression which made him change his mind, and said, Try to keep your friend from punching holes in the walls, Joe. Back in a minute.'
He went out with the sergeant. Joe rejoined Butcher, who said, 'Got it sorted, have you? Just dragged me here for a bit of all-boys-together humiliation, did you?'
'You don't look humiliated to me,' said Joe.
'So I'm a good actor. What's going on?'
'Don't know,' said Joe. 'But from the look on Chivers's face, something big has broken. I'd love to know what.'
She looked impatiently at her watch.
Joe said, 'I'm sorry. Look, if you've got a heavy date, don't feel obligated. I'll say you've gone to bribe a judge or something. Just the memory of you being here should be enough to persuade Willie to cooperate.'
'Thank you for that,' said Butcher. 'But I'll hang around. I'm curious to see what it is that's going to screw up Lucy's life.'
Joe scratched his nose reflectively. Butcher's usual line in maritals was that the man took all the blame with wife and mistress being equally abused. Obviously cases altered when it was your mate's marriage.
'What are you scratching your nose for?' demanded Butcher.
Joe was saved from having to reply by the arrival of Doreen McShane, escorted by Woodbine. To Joe's surprise she looked quite pleased to see him. Though why was he surprised? Luton's old police station was about as user- friendly as the Tower of London. While the walls of the interview rooms weren't actually stippled with blood and festooned with green slime, in Joe's dreams they were. Couple of hours in there and you were glad to see your tax inspector.
'We're letting you off with a caution this time, Ms McShane,' said Woodbine rather stagily. 'Please to remember that the trespass laws are much tighter now. You can't just go roaming at will over other people's property.'
Dorrie ignored him completely and came straight to Joe.
'Hello,' she said. 'They said Mam sent you. Is Feelie all right?'
'Fine,' said Joe. 'Your mam would have come herself but she didn't think this was the place to bring the kiddie.'
'She's right there,' said the girl with feeling. 'It's not the place you'd want to bring a sick parrot!'
While the detail of her judgement was blurred, its force was undeniable.
'Who's this?' said Dorrie, looking at Butcher. 'You from the Social, or something?'
This was more like her old aggressive mood. To a young single mother, a visit from the Social was on a par with finding algae in your beer.
'No, I'm a solicitor,' said Butcher.
'Solicitor!' Dorrie sneered. Joe, who was no good at sneers, observed the technique with envy. It was all in the lips. He rehearsed sometimes while he was shaving but it always came out like an apologetic smile.
'You have something against solicitors?' said Butcher sweetly.
Dorrie looked ready to describe at some length what she had against solicitors, but Joe moved in quickly. Yeah, the girl had a bright future in the slagging-off game, but this was a mismatch which could destroy her hopes of being a real contender.
