'I don't think so.'
She did laugh then.
'No, neither do I. Why don't we sit for a while in the other room? Have you got time, before you need to be getting back?'
Resnick got to his feet.
'A little, yes.'
They sat in armchairs on either side of an open fireplace which had a centre piece of dried flowers in the grate. The curtains, full and dark and with a recurring motif of leaves, were closed. There was one photograph of Peter, arm around one of his daughters, laughing into the camera. The others were of the children, none of Sarah herself.
On the polished coffee table lay copies of Good Housekeeping and 'Vanity Fair, several paperback books.
'Did you marry, Charlie?'
'Uh-hum.'
'Elaine, is that what she was called?'
Resnick nodded.
'Yes.' Christ, he didn't want to talk about this.
'What happened, Charlie?'
'We divorced.'
'For better or worse.'
'Something like that' ' Which was it for you? ' Sarah asked.
166 'Oh, worse. I suppose it was worse.'
'And now? Have you come to terms with it now?'
'I think so.'
'And you're still in touch?'
'Not really, no.'
'A shame. But, then, I suppose it's better that way.'
He didn't answer immediately.
'It is for me.'
Sarah drank more of the gin and tonic that had replaced the sherry.
'You think I treated him badly, don't you? Your friend, Ben. What I did, the way I behaved, you think it was pretty inexcusable.'
Resnick shook his head.
'No. I don't think that. I think, at the time, I was sorry he was so hurt. But, you know, my job, it's hard to sit in judgement about what people do.'
'You surprise me. Seeing what you see, I should have thought you did that all the time. Pass judgement.'
'I know. Only that doesn't seem to be the way it works. What happens, most of the time anyway, whatever it is someone's done, somehow you come to understand. No way you could talk to them, else.' Resnick looked across at her.
'At some point in our lives, we're all capable of anything. I suppose that's what you learn most.'
Sarah sipped her drink.
'You don't know any more yet,' she said, 'about what happened to Peter? I mean, why or. '
'Not really, although…' He stopped, uncertain, and she leaned forward a little, waiting for him to carry on. 'There's a chance, just a chance, mind, we might have a lead, something to go on.'
Sarah set down her glass.
'It's funny, isn't it? These days, you think, oh, people fooling around. Prostitution. Casual sex. Aids, that's what leaps to mind, isn't it? Aids, that's the danger. Not… not this.'
'I think,' Resnick said, 'if you're going to be okay, I ought to be moving. '
'Yes, of course, fine. You don't have to worry about me. I'm not about to do anything stupid.'
'I didn't imagine you would.'
She walked with him to the door.
'The funeral…'
'You'll let me know.'
'Of course.'
He was almost at the car, when she called him back. 'That girl, the one who was here with you the other day.'
'DC Kellogg. Lynn.'
'She's in love with you, you know.'
'Thought you weren't coming,' Divine said, as Naylor materialised through the crowd. He had nabbed a seat to the side of the pub, close against the windows that looked out over the trees and sloping shadows of the park. Quiet half-hour with Sharon Gamett, who knew what might develop? But not now.
'Here,' he said, trying not to sound too grudging.
'You can just about squeeze in here.'
Naylor set down his own pint and the refill he had bought for Divine, and sat next to a youth in a cotton shirt with sleeves rolled back, who grudgingly made space for him.
'Sort out all the under-age drinkers amongst this lot,' Naylor said.
'Have the place to ourselves.'
'Aye, well. Better things to do, eh?'
'Happen.'
'How was Canada's feller-made-good?'
'Prick of the first water.'
Divine laughed.
'Maybe should've brought him along. There's women here, not seen a good shagging since Forest last won bloody Cup.'
Naylor nodded absent-mindedly and drank.
'Hey up, though. Here we go. There's one I'd not mind putting it to myself.'
Dressed in a black roll-neck, leather jacket and blue- black jeans, Sharon Gamett was making her way past the raised platform of the stage, where a tubby retread of Eiton John was fiddling with the wiring of the electric piano and preparing to excite the crowd with a despairing version of 'Crocodile Rock*.
'What are you having?' Divine said, out of his seat and reaching for his wallet.
'A headache. I've heard this bloke before. What say we drink up and leave?'
A few minutes later they were walking along Arboretum Street and heading for Balmoral Road, a narrow cut- through that would take them to the Goose Fair site and the Forest Recreation Ground.
'This tart we're looking for,' Divine said, 'how well d'you know her? '
'Doris? Like I say, I've not been here long enough to know the girls well, but, yes, I've had words with her once or twice.'
And? '
'She's all right. Straightforward enough. Honest.'
Honest? '
'Yes. She doesn't make any bones about what she does. Doesn't make a fuss if she's nicked.'
'Back on the street the next night, probably carrying a dose of Aids.'
Sharon stopped walking. They were on the corner of Forest Road East, the cemetery that took up one corner of the recreation ground, off to their right. Immediately before them, open space dropped to near darkness and, beyond that, the lights of the terraced houses of Forest Fields.
'You don't know that,' Sharon said.
'And if she had, who gave it to her, answer me that?'
A needle? ' Kevin Naylor said.
I don't reckon Doris does drugs,' said Sharon. Divine laughed, the sound carrying on the wind. Makes her the
