Gerald caught the look and slipped the weapon into his pocket. ‘Seems quiet enough,’ observed the junior officer, his gaze raking the shuttered windows of the building’s grey stone frontage. He hung round those broad waters from noon until three and realized that he had embarked upon a wild-goose chase. She hadn't measured up; she had been stupid; she hadn't known how to make love. After the first violent outbreak of grief had in some degree subsided, Thames addressed him. “Holy shit!” Giggling and snickering was amplified by asbestos tiles and reverberated by metal desks. There was hope for me then. And she’s pluck to the backbone.
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