Free Living Proof by John Harvey Page B

smiled.
    "Good. I'll look forward to seeing you tonight."
    "If I can," Resnick said.
    "I'll try."
    He was conscious of Marius Gooding watching him all the way to the dining room door only one reason he didn't stop and look back at Cathy before passing through. He would check the roster, have a word with Skelton, see if they couldn't send somebody down to the bookshop in their lunch hour just the same. As for later, the invitation to the restaurant, he didn't know, though the last time he'd been to Sonny's, he remembered, on the occasion of his friend Marian Witczak's fortieth birthday, he'd had the rack of lamb and it had been very tasty, very sweet "Listen," Divine was saying into the telephone. Not saying, shouting.
    "No, listen. Listen. Listen up a minute. Bloody listen!"
    Most of the CDD room did exactly that; stopped whatever they were doing to stare at Mark Divine, standing beside his desk, brown hair pushed back from his forehead, blue shirt, dark trousers, tie twisted round, anger reddening his cheeks in ragged circles, telephone tight in his hand.
    "For once in your life, just listen."
    Whoever was at the other end of the line chose to ignore the advice.
    Connection broken, Divine stared at the receiver in frustration before slamming it back down. "Stupid tossing woman!"
    "Nice," Lynn Kellogg remarked.
    "No wonder you're so successful at pulling. All that suave sophistication."
    Divine mouthed an everyday obscenity and kicked his chair back against the wall, stuffed both hands deep into his pockets and slouched out.
    "Must be," Lynn said, enjoying a little tit-for-tat retribution, 'his time of the month. "
    "Time you weren't here, isn't it?" Millington said from the far end of the room.
    "One of your snouts, give you a lead on those break-ins, didn't he?"
    Lynn lifted notebook and ball-point from her desk and found space for them inside her shoulder bag. She was almost at the door when Resnick walked in, breathing a little heavily after hurrying up the hill from Cathy Jordan's hotel, patches of mustard yellowing nicely on his tie.
    Off far? "
    Lynn shook her head.
    "Dkeston Road."
    "How long d'you reckon?"
    "An hour. Hour and a half."
    "Think you could get yourself into the city centre, middle of the day? Waterstone's, corner of Bottle Lane..."
    "And Bridlesmith Gate. Yes, I know it. Why?"
    "This American author who's over. Jordan, Cathy Jordan."
    "Sleeping Fools Ue.1 " Sorry? "
    "One of her books. I read it last year."
    Resnick was quietly impressed. Aside from anything else, where did she get the time?
    "There've been a few threatening letters. Offering her harm. Doesn't seem to take them too seriously herself and I'm not sure how far we should, but it might be no bad idea, to have someone around. She's doing some kind of book signing, one o'clock. Don't want to stick a uniform in there, scare people off."
    "Okay, fine. Be interesting to meet her, I should think."
    "Pop back in on your way down, I'll fill you in."
    Lynn nodded and was on her way.
    Resnick beckoned Millington closer.
    "Young Divine stormed past me and up the stairs as if you'd given him a good earful. Blotted his copybook again, has he?"
    Millington shook his head.
    "Mark? No, nothing I've said. Just off up the canteen, most like, have a good sulk."
    What about? "
    Millington's best malicious smile slid out from under his moustache like a ferret on the loose.
    "Course of true love, never did run smooth."
    Kevin Naylor took two mugs of tea over from the counter, two sugars in Divine's, one in his own.
    "Here. Drink that." Divine continued glowering at a sausage cob, which sat encircled on his plate by a moat of brown sauce. Two tables away, three uniformed constables and a civilian clerk were arguing the merits of the present Nottinghamshire side.
    "Give this lot a white ball with a bell in it, and they'd not top three figures against a blind school."
    "What's up?" Naylor asked.
    "Lesley?"
    Lesley Bruton was a staff nurse at Queen's Medical Centre.