The Larkmead estate was a product of the 80s decline. Once well-kept flats were now reduced to squalor. Unemployment and crime were rife, and no-one appeared to know how to raise it up out of the mire. It was the type of place that needed council investment when there was no investment coming. Gangs of youths roamed its walkways, frightening little old ladies and causing mayhem for the few decent, law-abiding people who lived there. It could be a war zone at times, not a place where you'd want to be after dark.

Christina drove in and around towards Fairfield Gardens where the Brennans' lived. Sophie had assured them that her husband would be at home, out of work as he was and not inclined to try too hard to find an alternative. Number 16 looked as shabby as they come and as she and Frank made their way to the front door, she couldn't help but think about how her own life might have led her to such a place if she hadn't had Stewart and his family to help her out. One more reason to be thankful.

"You can nick him," Frank said, as she knocked on the door. "You need the body."

"Thanks Guv. Just remember to step in if he takes a swing at me."

"I'm sure you can handle yourself."

The door opened suddenly, and a tall, dark-haired man appeared in front of them, his eyes blurry from sleep and booze. She recalled what Sophie had said about her husband being quite a catch and had to admit that, were it not for what she knew about him, she might indeed think him handsome.

"Dennis Brennan?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Police," she pulled out her warrant card. "I'm WDC Lewis, this is DI Burnside."

"CID?" Dennis peered at them. "What do you want?"

"Dennis Brennan, I'm arresting you for assault. You do not have to say anything unless you wish to do so, but anything you do say may be given in evidence." She held up her handcuffs. "Can you turn around please?"

"What is this?" Dennis demanded, folding his arms. "I haven't touched anyone."

"We can talk it all through down at the station." She reached for his arm, only for him to tug it away. "There's no point in making this difficult, sir."

"Don't you talk to me like I'm simple. I want to know what this is about! Who am I meant to have assaulted?"

"Your wife," Frank spoke up.

Dennis's eyes gaze flew between them. "What has she said? What has that bitch said?!"

"Like I said," Christina took hold of his arm again. "We can discuss it all down at the station."

"This is bollocks," Dennis replied, as she secured the steel around his wrists. "I haven't touched her. I haven't laid one finger on her!"

"Yeah? Her face tells a different story," Frank said as they made their way along the walkway and back to the car. "Not very pretty, I'll give you that."

"Why, what's wrong with her face?" he struggled slightly, causing Christina to grip his tighter. "I haven't done nothing to her face!"

"You'd be best remaining silent at the moment, Mr Brennan. Once we get to the station, we can all sit down and get it sorted."

"I'm not having you fit me up! I want a lawyer!"

"You can get one, down the station!" Opening the back door of the car, she pushed him firmly inside before slamming it behind him. "What a nice man," she commented, turning back to Frank.

He raised his eyebrows, "Aren't they all?"

The drive back was undertaken in relative silence. Frank sat in the back with Dennis who stared fixedly out of the window, clearly dissuaded from making further comment about his innocence. When she glanced at him in the rear-view mirror, she couldn't help but think that he looked genuinely concerned about what was happening. As he should.

"What's this then?" Alec asked as they made their way into custody.

"Domestic assault, Sarge," Christina replied.

"I see…" Alec sat down at the desk. "Empty your pockets please sir." Dennis did as asked, a crumpled handkerchief, a betting slip and some coins deposited down. "Can I have your full name please?

"Dennis John Brennan."

"Date of birth?"

"4th March 1958."

"Address?"

"16 Fairfield Gardens, Larkmead Estate."

"Are you the arresting officer?" Alec looked at her.

"Yes Sarge. Mr Brennan's wife made a statement to us that her husband assaulted her last night. She's been seen by a doctor at St Hughes and had her injuries photographed."

Dennis turned to look at her, "You what?"

"Turn around please sir," Alec reminded him.

"This is a joke! I never touched her!"

"I'm satisfied that this arrest is lawful and that you should be detained at this police station for questioning. These are your rights, please read and sign them."

"This is bollocks, I'm telling you, bollocks!" Dennis hurriedly scribbled on the sheet of paper Alec provided him before turning back to look at her. "I bet you swallowed every little thing that bitch told you, didn't you? You slags always stick together! I told you, I want a brief!"

"A lawyer will be provided for you," Alec said, rattling the cell keys. "I'm sure you'll be interviewed as soon as he or she gets here."

"He seems pretty adamant it wasn't him," Frank remarked as Alec led Dennis down the cell corridor.

"Yeah…" Christina mused. "But I suppose he would say that, wouldn't he? I doubt many men would cop to it straight off."

"Suppose not. Come on, let's grab a coffee while we wait for his mouthpiece to arrive." The canteen was fairly quiet, refs having finished shortly before they had arrived back, and she took a table near the window, Frank joining her a few moments later and placing a cup down in front of. "Better than from the machine anyway."

"Wouldn't be hard." She took a sip. "Did you put sugar in this?" He nodded. "Oh, right."

"I thought you took sugar?"

"I do, I just didn't realise that you knew that Guv."

"You think I don't pay attention?"

"Not to that kind of stuff, no."

"Yeah, well…you missed yourself at the pub the other day."

"Really, how come?"

"You know what's it like. Place was packed with the usual crowds." He paused, stirring his coffee slowly. "Your old man was there."

She looked up to meet his gaze, "Stewart?"

"How many husbands do you have?"

"Very funny, just the one." She paused. "I suppose it's not that surprising really. You know what the Drugs Squad boys can be like."

"Oh yeah, hard drinkers' day or night, I know that." It was his turn to pause. "Are there any women on his team?"

She could tell right away that it was a loaded question. The fact that he didn't look at her, and the slightly overly casual way he said the words, made her antenna rise. "No, I don't think so, not that he's mentioned at any rate, why?"

"No reason," he drained half his cup and then met her gaze again. "What?"

"Well, it just seems an odd thing to say."

"Does it?"

"Telling me he was at the pub and then asking if there's any women on his team, yeah it does."

"Well, it wasn't meant to be. I was just making conversation. Anyway, he gave you that love bite, didn't he?"

"Yeah…" her fingers strayed to her neck.

"Well then."

"Well then what?"

"Nothing. Look, I've got a few phone calls I need to make." He got to his feet and drained the rest of his cup. "Give me a shout when Brennan's brief gets here." Before she could say anything further, he left the table, quickly crossed the canteen and disappeared out of the swing doors.

Left alone, she found herself going what he had said. The mention of Stewart in the pub followed by the question about the female members of his team. It was easy enough to put two and two together; he had obviously seen Stewart in the pub with a woman. It was hardly the crime of the century, so why had he felt the need to mention it? Was he trying to suggest that something nefarious was going on? She felt a chill run through her and instinctively lifted her cup to her mouth, flooding it with warm liquid. She had learned by now that Frank never said anything without there being meaning behind it.

XXXX

An hour or so in a cell and Dennis Brennan wasn't looking any better than he had when he been brought in. The smell of booze was almost overwhelming and if Frank hadn't known better, he would have said that Alec had been slipping him alcohol in custody. He was sitting on the other side of the table, rubbing his face in his hands and occasionally belching.

"Taped interview with Dennis John Brennan. Officers present are WDC Lewis and…"

"DI Burnside."

Christina sat down beside him. "Can you state your full name for the tape please?"

"You just said it, why do I have to repeat it?"

"For the tape, please, Mr Brennan."

"Dennis John Brennan, all right?"

"Also present is Mr Brennan's solicitor, Mr Jackson. Now, Dennis, what can you tell us about what happened between you and your wife Sophie last night?"

Frank watched as Dennis rubbed his face again and then sat back in his chair, surveying them both. "Nothing."

"You sure about that?" Christina asked. "Only we have a witness statement from your wife, Sophie, that you assaulted her last night, quite badly in fact."

"Yeah? Well, she's a lying cow, isn't she?"

"Is she?"

"Of course she is! I never laid a hand on her!"

"Ok," Christina sat back, "tell us where you were last night between 6pm and 11pm."

"Why should I?"

"Because we're asking you to," Frank butted in before he could stop himself. "And because your wife says that the beating happened between those times. If you didn't do it, tell us where you were."

"I was in the pub most of the day yesterday," Dennis replied. "I'd been paid so…I had a few drinks with the lads."

"And then?"

"And then…" he paused and spread his hands. "I don't know, I…I was probably in the pub most of the night."

"Probably?" Christina raised her eyebrows. "You mean, you don't remember?"

"I'd had a lot to drink, I don't deny that. I've…I've got, well, a bit of a problem and sometimes, well, sometimes I don't remember things. Like where I've been or what I've done."

"So, you're saying," Frank said, "that you could have been at home assaulting your wife last night and you just don't remember?"

"No, I would remember something like that, of course I would! You wouldn't forget that sort of thing, would you?" He looked between them. "Well, would you?"

"Your wife told us that you assaulted her because she told you that she had been to see us the day before to report you for raping her," Christina said.

Dennis stared at her, his expression one of horror. "Rape?" She nodded. "What are you talking about? I've never raped her in my life! She's my wife!"

"What does that mean to you?" she asked. "The fact that she's your wife? What does that mean to you in terms of possibly raping her?"

"Now, I think we're getting slightly off the point here," Mr Jackson sat forward. "You arrested my client for physically assaulting his wife. Nothing was mentioned about any rape and, in any event, I think we all know the current law."

"What current law?" Dennis asked, only to be shushed by his solicitor. "I never laid a hand on Sophie, I swear it!"

"All right," Frank said, "let's say it wasn't you. Who was it?"

"Well, I don't know, do I?!"

"Oh, come on Mr Brennan, you must know if there's someone out there who wants to have a go at your wife."

"It could have been anyone! She could have been mugged, anything!"

"Well, why would she blame you then?" Christina asked. "Do you have a difficult relationship, in general?"

"No! I mean, we argue, but don't most married folk? You've got a ring on. Don't you argue with your old man?"

Frank glanced at her out of the corner of her eye and saw her take a deep breath before responding. "Yes, but I don't usually end up with a fractured cheekbone and extensive bruising."

Dennis shook his head and sat back. "I'm not saying nothing more about this. I never laid a hand on her and you can't prove otherwise."

"He's right," Frank said as Dennis was led back to his cell. "We've only got her word for it."

"And the injuries," Christina reminded him. "Pretty bad ones at that."

"Yeah, but she's the only one who says it was him," he replied as they made their way back along the corridor. "There are no other witnesses apparently. You heard what she said in her statement, no friends or neighbours who would have heard anything." He shook his head. "We need corroboration, and we haven't got it."

"Did you believe all that flannel about not remembering?"

"Did you?"

"I can't imagine anyone being so drunk as to forget inflicting a beating like that, but then he even said that himself."

"Yeah…" he mused. "Perhaps you should go and have another word with Sophie, see if there's anything else that she can tell us, anything else that she could give us that might help nail the bastard."

"I suppose it's worth a try," she suddenly put her hand on his arm, stopping him mid-stride. "I know what you were trying to say in the canteen earlier."

"What was I trying to say?"

"You were trying to say that you'd seen Stewart with a woman in the pub and you were sounding me out as to whether or not I might think he was having an affair."

Frank paused. "I never said…"

"You didn't have to. But just because a bloke has a drink with a woman in a pub doesn't mean he's having a relationship with her. If I have a drink with you, does that mean there's something going on between us?"

"No…"

"He isn't having an affair."

Her expression was firm, bordering on being pissed off but not quite over the threshold at that point and he knew he needed to tread carefully. "I never said that he was. I told you I'd seen him in the pub, a busy pub I should add, and then I asked you if there were any women on his team. I don't how you've put two and two together and come up with seven."

"Don't patronise me."

"I'm not."

"You are! You must think me really stupid or emotional or…something, I don't know. If you thought he was having an affair, why didn't you just come right out and tell me what you saw rather than go round the houses?"

He paused again. "Because, funnily enough, I didn't want to hurt you."

She shook her head. "There was nothing to hurt me with."

"Fine, it was my mistake." He turned back and kept walking, conscious of her following close behind, and wishing he had chosen to say nothing in the first place.

"So, you did think he was having an affair?"

"Christina, he was in the pub with his arm around another woman. What did you expect me to think?"

"You said yourself it was busy."

"So?"

"Do you think he would be that stupid as to be touching up another woman like that in front of lots of witnesses? Surely, if he was having an affair, he would do it in secret, or at least where there was less chance of being seen. Maybe he might sit in a car and ask a female colleague if they want to come inside the house."

Frank stopped at the top of the stairs and turned back to face her, finding that he couldn't read her expression. It was a mixture of anger, upset and, strangely enough, hope. Hope, no doubt, that he would tell her that he had made the whole thing up. And perhaps he might have, or at least put a different spin on it for her, if she hadn't proceeded to throw the funeral back in his face.

"Oh, I see. You want to cast that up to me now after all this time, do you? Want to make me feel bad for something that happened seven months? For your information, when I asked you in, I was not trying to get you into bed."

"Then why did you freeze me out afterwards? Why did you make my life so difficult around the nick?"

"You don't know me at all, do you?" he shook his head. "Do you think I enjoyed what happened at Tracy's funeral? Do you think I liked having her parents have a go at me?"

"Of course not."

"So, I got a bit drunk on the back of it and I let my guard down and I made a suggestion that you clearly took entirely the wrong way. And I knew that was how you had taken it and I wanted to disavow you of whatever notion you had got into your head!"

"By treating me like shit when all I had done was tried to support you?"

He turned towards his office. "Why is this all coming up again now? I thought we'd moved past it. I thought you had accepted my apology."

"What apology?"

"Well, I didn't think I needed to come right out and say it. I supported you during the undercover operation. I told you that you could call me anytime." He faced her across his desk. "I came down to the club to try and protect you!"

"And I was supposed to take that as some sort of magical apology for all the grief you had given me for weeks beforehand?"

"Well, you haven't exactly made a big deal out of it, have you? We haven't spoken about the funeral for months. You're only bringing it up now because you're pissed off that I've questioned the integrity of your marriage."

Her eyes flashed angrily. "There's nothing wrong with my marriage."

"No, I suppose there isn't. Nothing a few love bites can't fix at any rate."

"If you were my friend, you would either have forgotten what you saw or told me right away, not stored it up to use against me at some future point."

"How on earth have I stored it up to use it against you? I told you the day after for Christ's sake," he pointed out, "and I am not your friend, I'm your boss."

"Yeah, yeah you are, and maybe it's just better that we keep it that way."

He met her gaze, understanding passing between them that the change in their relationship that had come about since the undercover operation was nothing to be looked upon other than a simple boss-employee arrangement, that he was not her confidante for anything, and that professionalism was necessary at all times.

"I haven't made it any other way at any time," he said. "But given that you've mentioned it, I don't think this assault complaint is really needing an officer of my rank to investigate it. I suggest you take Jim or Tosh with you when you interview Brennan again, all right?"

She paused and let out a long breath. "Fine, Guv, understood."

"Good," he sat down and lifted one of the papers on the desk in front of him, aware of her still hovering. "If there's nothing else…"

"No," she said tightly, heading for the door. "There's isn't."