9
They took Armstrong’s car to the flat in the East End occupied by the two prostitutes Pope had identified. Armstrong drove out of the city centre along Duke Street while Irvine stared at the old photograph of Butler, trying to see something in his eyes to explain everything that he had done. But it was just a digital facsimile of the man: coloured ink arranged by a computer on glossy paper. The more she stared at it, the less real it became. She put the photograph in the door pocket and looked ahead.
‘How did it go with the FBI?’ she asked.
Armstrong glanced at her then back at the road.
‘Not much for us to tell them. We don’t have anything to go on with this guy Butler yet.’
‘What about them?’
‘They were cagey about giving away too much. All they said was that they were close and planning for an operation.’
‘An operation?’
‘They didn’t elaborate.’
‘We’re co-operating with each other, right?’
‘As much as we can at this point. But they’ll want to keep it to themselves.’
‘You mean take all the credit.’
‘I suppose.’
They fell into silence again. Irvine checked her watch. It was around nine. She thought that the two prostitutes would likely be asleep after a long night shift. Might be good to catch them a little off guard. Maybe they would say something that ordinarily they would try to hide, whether out of fear or a general mistrust of the police.
‘I need to tell you something,’ Irvine said.
Armstrong didn’t look at her or say anything.
‘About how I got Butler’s name.’
‘I was wondering.’
She took a quick breath.
‘Frank Parker told me.’
She saw his fingers tighten on the steering wheel, the skin stretching and turning white.
‘He came to my house last night.’
This time Armstrong turned to look at her. There was something hard in his eyes.
‘There was nothing to it,’ Irvine said quickly. ‘He wanted to give me information.’
‘Such a gentleman.’
‘Kenny—’
‘He’ll want something in return eventually. You know that?’
‘Yes.’
‘Fine. It’s between you and him. Nothing to do with me. But watch your back.’
She sensed that her interaction with Parker both at the restaurant and last night had changed her relationship with Armstrong. Had soured it for him. He would never be able to view anything Parker did objectively, no matter how positive it might be for this case. There was nothing she could do about that.
‘This case will be over soon,’ he said. ‘Now that we know who Butler is, he can’t stay hidden for ever.’
Unspoken: and we won’t have to be partners any more.
Irvine didn’t regret how she had dealt with Parker: it was part of the job. Armstrong would have to carry his own personal demons.