CHAPTER : 18Fish Finlay meant it to sound mildly amusing, but he knew it had no such content, for he had just seen the semblance of a ghost of sorts himself. He had stopped at the sink for a drink of water and looked down into the vegetable garden. A dusty blue gnome in a faded brown hat was in one of the cordoned squares, spraying the mauve-green plums, one of the two old gardeners. He sprayed and moved back, raising his head to avoid the wind drift, and Fish saw the face under the faded brown hat. It was a face he’d seen before, and as he stared down at it, puzzled, it came suddenly into his mind. He’d seen it that morning, passing him in the doorway of room No. 7 of the Azores in Thames Street . . . the sad-faced man in the blue work denims and blue denim hat.
It was just at that momen
