“Don’t tell me you empty your wallet out every day? Every week?
Every month?”
“About as often as you empty your handbag, probably.”
“Then that’s hardly ever. God knows what I’d find in the bottom of that if I had time to rummage through it.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Banks said. “It’s just another little oddity, that’s all, like the two of them being away at the same time but in different places. Hardcastle was in London with Wyman and Silbert was—”
“In Amsterdam,” said Annie. “Doug looked into it. Silbert stayed at the Hotel Ambassade on Herengracht for three nights—Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday. He checked out early Friday morning and came back on the f light from Schiphol that got in at ten past nine. And it was on time that day. He left on Tuesday at nine fifty-five a.m.”
“Herengracht? Is that near the Red Light district?”
“No idea,” said Annie. “Want me to check?”
“Later. Why would they go to different places? Why not go away together?”
“They had different business to conduct, I should imagine. They obviously didn’t live in each other’s pockets. Hardcastle even kept his own f lat.”
“I suppose so,” said Banks, rubbing his temples. “Sorry, I just don’t seem to be quite on the ball as far as this case goes yet.”
5 2 P E T E R
R O B I N S O N
“Mind elsewhere?”
Banks glanced sharply at her.
Annie paused. “Look, Alan, I’m sorry you got dragged back from London,” she said. “But we used to work well together, remember?
We were a team.”
“We still are.”
“Are we?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know. You tell me. Lately things have been a bit weird, that’s all. I could have used you . . . you know . . . a shoulder . . . a friend . . . after the Karen Drew case and all. But you weren’t there.”
“Is that what you’re holding against Sophia?”
“I’m not holding anything against Sophia. We’re not talking about her.”
“Don’t deny that you don’t like her.”
Annie leaned forward. “Alan, honestly, I’ve nothing against her. I don’t care one way or the other. It’s you I’m concerned about. My friend. Maybe you’re . . . I don’t know . . . a bit oversensitive, a bit overdefensive? She doesn’t need it, believe me. She’s a survivor.”
“What does that mean? What’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing. There you go again.”
“You said Sophia’s a survivor. It’s just an odd thing to say. I wondered what you meant by it.”
“All I’m saying is don’t get too caught up in it all. Keep some perspective.”
“Are you saying I’ve lost my perspective? Because—”
The phone rang.
Banks and Annie glared at each another, then Banks answered it.
He listened for a moment, said, “Keep her there,” then hung up and turned to Annie. “PC Walters at Castleview Heights. Apparently a woman has just turned up there claiming to be Laurence Silbert’s mother. Want to come along?”
“Of course,” said Annie. She stood up. “I’ll follow you in my car.
To be continued?”
“What?”
“Our discussion.”
A L L T H E C O L O R S O F D A R K N E S S
5 3
“If you think it’s worth it.” Banks picked his car keys up from his desk and they left.
L A U R E N C E S I L B E R T ’ S mother was sitting in the driver’s seat of a racing-green MG sports car outside number 15 Castleview Heights smoking a cigarette and chatting with PC Walters when Banks and Annie arrived not more than three or four minutes later. The soft evening light, after a brief shower, had turned the limestone gray-gold and softened the slate and f lagstone rooftops. A few dirty gray clouds lingered in the blue sky, one of them occasionally blocking out the sun for a minute or two. There were still plenty of media people around the area, held back by a police cordon, but Banks and Annie ignored the call for comments and turned toward the MG.
The woman who got out had once been at least as tall as Banks, but age had given her a slight stoop. Even so, she was a commanding presence, and the gray hair drawn back tightly from her forehead, her high cheekbones over tanned, sunken cheeks, wrinkled mouth and twin-kling blue-gray eyes spoke of a beauty not too long faded. In fact, she was still beautiful, and there was something vaguely familiar about her.
“Good evening,” she said, offering her hand in turn. “I’m Edwina Silbert, Laurence’s mother.”
Banks stepped back. “The Edwina Silbert?”
“Well, I suppose I did attract a certain amount of notoriety at one time,” she said, dropping her cigarette on the ground and stepping on it. She was wearing black high heels, Banks noticed. “But that was a very long time ago.”
Annie looked puzzled.
“Mrs. Silbert started the Viva boutique chain in the sixties,” Banks explained. “And it went on to become enormously successful.”
“Still is,” said Annie. “I shop there myself when I can afford it.
Pleased to meet you.”
“It used to be more affordable,” said Edwina. “That was one of the novelties about it at the time. Everyone could dress like the beautiful people. We used to dream of equality for all.”
“I’m very sorry for your loss,” Banks said.
5 4 P E T E R
R O B I N S O N
Edwina Silbert inclined her head. “Poor Laurence. I’ve been thinking about him all the way up here. It’s still very difficult to take in.
Can I see him?”
“I’m afraid not,” said Banks.
“That bad?”
Banks said nothing.
“I’m not squeamish, you know. I saw plenty of things, many things during the war that would turn your stomach. I was a Queen Alexan-dra nurse.”
“Even so . . .”
“Surely I must have some rights? He was my son.”
Technically, the body was both still a crime scene and the property of the coroner, so Edwina Silbert really didn’t have any right to see it, at least not without the coroner’s permission. That was usually a formality, and a relative was generally required to identify a body, but that was not the case here.
“Mrs. Silbert—”
“Edwina. Please.”
“Edwina. I’ll be frank with you. It would be very difficult for you to recognize your son. We think we have enough to go on to make a positive identification for the time being, and I think seeing him the way he is now would cause you far too much pain and grief. Best to remember him as he was.”
She was silent for a moment or two, as if lost in thought. “Very well,” she said finally. “But there is something that might help you.
Laurence has a very distinctive birthmark on his left arm, just above his elbow.” She tapped the spot on her own elbow. “It’s dark red in color and shaped like a teardrop.”
“Thank you,” said Banks. “We’d also like to take a DNA swab.
Later, when you’re feeling up to it. It’s just a simple mouth swab.
There are no needles or anything involved.”
“I’ve never been afraid of needles,” she said. “And you’re more than welcome to take your sample in any way you wish. Look, I don’t know about your rules and regulations, but I’ve come a long way and I could do with a drink. I happen to know that there’s a delightful little pub close by.”
A L L T H E C O L O R S O F D A R K N E S S
5 5
Annie glanced at Banks, who turned to PC Walters. “Phil,” he said, pointing to the media phalanx. “Make sure none of those bastards follows us.”
Walters swallowed and turned as pale as if he’d been asked to hold back the massed hordes of invading Huns. “I’ll do my best, sir,” he said.
The Black Swan, literally
just down the street and on the corner, was not one of the pubs that attracted the rowdies on a Saturday night.
In fact, it attracted hardly anyone except people from the immediate neighborhood, as it was so well hidden and the prices were too high for the yobs. Banks had never been there before, but he wasn’t surprised it was so upmarket, with lots of horse brasses, framed Stubbs prints and polished brass rails around the bar. And they called the outside area the patio, not the beer garden. There was also no loud music or slot machines. The government might have banned smoking in pubs, Banks thought as he went inside, but here everyone seemed to have at least one dog. He felt his nose begin to itch. Why couldn’t they ban dogs, too?
“Shall we sit outside?” Edwina Silbert suggested. “I could do with a cigarette.”
“Fine,” said Banks, happy for the chance to get away from the dogs.
Smoke he could handle.
They found an empty bench and table on the patio. It offered a magnificent view over the town and the distant hills, dark green as the light weakened, and it was still warm enough to sit outside in a light jacket. Banks suggested they all sit down while he went back inside to pick up some drinks. Edwina wanted a gin and tonic and Annie a Diet Coke. Banks studied the pumps and chose a pint of Timothy Taylor’s Landlord. The small round cost him an arm and a leg. He thought about getting a receipt for expenses, then thought better of it as he imagined Superintendent Gervaise’s reaction.
He managed to secure a tray and carried the drinks back to the table. Edwina Silbert was already smoking, and she accepted the gin and tonic eagerly.
“You shouldn’t have come all this way,” Banks said. “We were going to drive down and see you soon, anyway.”
5 6 P E T E R
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“Don’t be silly,” she said. “I’m perfectly capable of driving a few miles. I set off shortly after the local bobby came round with the news this afternoon. What else was I supposed to do? Sit at home and twid-dle my thumbs?”
If Silbert was sixty-two, Banks thought, then Edwina was probably in her eighties, and Longborough was two hundred miles away. She looked much younger, but then so had her son, by all accounts. Annie had told Banks that Maria Wolsey at the theater guessed Silbert to be in his early-fifties. Youthfulness must run in the family.
“Where are you staying?” he asked.
She seemed surprised at the question. “At Laurence’s house, of course.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” said Banks. “It’s a crime scene.”
Edwina Silbert gave her head a slight shake. Banks could see tears glistening in her eyes. “Forgive me,” she said. “I’m just not used to this. What’s that nice hotel in town? I stayed there once when the house was being decorated.”
“The Burgundy?”
“That’s the one. Do you think I’ll be able to get a room?”
“I’ll check for you,” said Annie, taking out her mobile. She walked over to the edge of the patio to make the call.
“She’s a nice girl,” said Edwina. “I’d hang on to her if I were you.”
“She’s not . . . I mean, we’re not. . .” Banks began, then he just nodded. He didn’t want to try to explain his relationship with Annie to a stranger. “Were you and Laurence close?” he asked.
“I’d say so,” Edwina answered. “I mean, I would like to think we were friends as well as mother and son. His father died when he was only nine, you see, killed in a car crash, and Laurence is an only child.
I never remarried. Of course, when he left university he traveled a lot, and there were lengthy periods when I didn’t see him at all.”
“How long had you known Laurence was gay?”
“Ever since he was a boy, really. All the signs were there. Oh, I don’t mean that he was effeminate in any way. Quite the opposite, really. Very manly. Good at sports. Fine physique. Like a young Greek god. It’s just the little things, the telling details. Of course, he was A L L T H E C O L O R S O F D A R K N E S S
5 7
always most discreet. Apart from the odd peccadillo at public school or Cambridge, I very much doubt that he was sexually active until his twenties, and by then it was perfectly legal, of course.”
“It didn’t bother you?”
She gave Banks a curious look. “What an odd thing to say.”
“Some parents get upset by it.” Banks thought of Mark Hardcastle’s father.
“Perhaps,” said Edwina. “But it always seemed to me that there’s no point in trying to change a person’s nature. A leopard’s spots, and all that. No. It was what he was. Part of what he was. His cross to bear and his path to love. I hope he found it.”
“If it means anything, I think he did. I think he was very happy these past few months.”
“With Mark, yes. I like to think so, too. Poor Mark. He’ll be devastated. Where is he? Do you know?”
“You knew Mark?”
“Knew? Oh my God, is there something you haven’t told me, something I don’t know?”
“I’m sorry,” said Banks. “I thought you would have heard. Please forgive me.” Why he had assumed that the Gloucestershire police would have told her about Mark Hardcastle, he didn’t know. Unless Doug Wilson had asked them to, and he clearly hadn’t.
“What happened?”
“I’m afraid Mark’s dead, too. It seems he committed suicide.”
Edwina seemed to shrink in her chair as if she had taken a body blow. She uttered a deep sigh. “But why?” she said. “Because of what happened to Laurence?”
“We think there’s a connection, yes,” said Banks.
Annie came back and gave Banks a nod. “We’ve got a nice room for you at the Burgundy, Mrs. Silbert,” she said.
“Thank you, dear,” said Edwina, reaching for a handkerchief in her handbag. She dabbed her eyes. “Excuse me, this is really very silly of me. It’s just rather a lot to take in all at once. Mark, too?”
“I’m sorry,” Banks said. “You liked him?”
She put her handkerchief away, took a sip of gin and tonic and reached for another cigarette. “Very much,” she said. “And he was 5 8 P E T E R
R O B I N S O N
good for Laurence. I know their backgrounds were very different, but they had so much in common, nonetheless.”
“The theater?”
“I like to think Laurence got some of his love for the theater from me. If it hadn’t been for the rag trade, you know, I might have become an actress. God knows, he spent hours hanging about backstage with me at various theaters.”
“So Laurence was interested in the theater?”
“Very much so. That’s where they met. He and Mark. Didn’t you know?”
“I know very little,” said Banks. “Please tell me.”
“I visited Laurence just before Christmas, and he took me to the theater here. It’s very quaint.”
“I know it,” said Banks.
“They were doing a panto. Cinderella, I believe. During the intermission we got talking in the bar, as you do, and I could see that Laurence and Mark hit it off immediately. I made my excuses and disappeared to powder my nose, or some such thing, for a few minutes, you know, just to give them a little time to exchange telephone numbers, make a date or whatever they wanted to do, and that, as they say, was that.”
“Did you see much of them after that?”
“Every time I visited. And they came to see me in Longborough, of course. It’s so lovely in the Cotswolds. I do wish they could have enjoyed summer there.” She took out her handkerchief again. “Silly me.
Getting all sentimental.” She sniffed, gave a little shudder and sat up as upright as she could. “I wouldn’t mind another drink.”
This time Annie went and came back with another round.
“How would you characterize their relationship?” Banks asked when Edwina had a fresh drink before her.
“I’d say they were in love and they wanted to make a go of it, but they moved cau
tiously. You have to remember that Laurence was sixty-two and Mark was forty-six. They’d both been through painful relationships and split-ups before. Strong as their feelings were for one another, they weren’t going to jump into something without thinking.”
A L L T H E C O L O R S O F D A R K N E S S
5 9
“Mark hung on to his f lat,” Banks said, “yet it seemed they were practically living together at Castleview. Is that the kind of thing you mean?”
“Exactly. I imagine he would eventually have given it up and moved in with Laurence completely, but they were progressing slowly.
Besides, Laurence has a pied-à-terre in Bloomsbury, so I should imagine Mark didn’t want to feel left out in that department.”
“Was he competitive?”
“He came from nowhere,” Edwina said, “and he was ambitious.
Yes, I’d say he was competitive, and perhaps material things meant more to him than they do to some people. Symbols of how far he’d come. But it didn’t stop him from being a wonderful, generous person.”
“You mentioned a pied-à-terre. Would Mark have stayed there, too, when he was in London?”
“I can’t see why not.”
“Would you give me the address?”
Edwina gave him an address near Russell Square. “It really is very tiny,” she said. “I couldn’t imagine the two of them staying there together. It would drive any couple crazy. But if you’re alone, it’s perfect.”
“Did you ever sense any tension between them? Any problems? Did they argue? Fight?”
“Nothing that stands out,” said Edwina. “No more than any other couple. Actually, they laughed a lot.” She paused. “Why? You’re not . . . ?
Surely you can’t . . . ?”
“We’re not really suggesting anything yet, Mrs. Silbert,” Annie said quickly. “We don’t know what happened. That’s what we’re trying to find out.”
“But that you can even believe there’s a possibility of Mark’s . . . of Mark’s doing something like that.”
“I’m afraid it is a possibility,” said Banks. “But that’s all it is at the moment. As Annie said, we don’t know what happened. All we know is that your son was killed in his home, and that shortly afterward Mark Hardcastle committed suicide in Hindswell Woods.”
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