Cold is the Grave

by Peter Robinson

  ‘There’s more, isn’t there?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘The child?’

  ‘As you know, it’s perfectly legal now for children to track down their birth parents. I can understand it, but I have to say that in many cases it’s the cause of nothing but grief.’

  ‘In your case?’

  ‘She found me easily enough. Late January, it was. The Children Act came into effect in 1975, before she was born, as you probably know. That meant she didn’t even have to go for counselling before the Registrar General gave her the information that led her to me. It was always on the cards. She just walked into my office one day. It didn’t take her long to work out that I was terrified of her telling my husband. I don’t know what would have happened. It was bad enough that he was so prudish and possessive and that I’d kept it from him all those years, but this also happened just as his political ambitions were getting all stirred up, and I wanted to be on that ride, too. I wanted Westminster. Jerry was always big on family values and any hint of a family scandal – ex-punk wife of chief constable, love child tells all – well, it would have ruined everything. At least, I believed it would.’

  ‘What did she do?’

  ‘Asked for money.’

  ‘Your own daughter blackmailed you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t call it that. She just asked for help now and then.’

  ‘Financial help?’

  ‘Yes. I mean, I did owe her, didn’t I? Apparently, she hadn’t had such a good life with her adoptive parents. They turned out to be unsuitable, she said, though she didn’t explain why, and they didn’t have much money. Then they died in a fire just after her second year at university, and she was left all alone. She was in her final year when she found me, so every little bit helped. I didn’t really mind.’

  ‘Did she ever threaten to tell your husband the truth if you didn’t pay up?’

  ‘She . . . she hinted that she might.’

  ‘And you paid for her continuing silence?’

  Rosalind averted her eyes. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Even after she left university?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That’s blackmail,’ said Banks. ‘Are you going to tell me who she is?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘It might.’

  Rosalind drank some wine, then she said, ‘It’s Ruth. Ruth Walker.’

  Banks almost choked on his drink. ‘Ruth Walker is your daughter? Emily’s half-sister?’

  Rosalind nodded.

  ‘My God, why didn’t you tell me this before?’

  ‘I can’t see how it could be relevant.’

  ‘That’s for me to judge. Did Emily know this?’

  ‘I didn’t think so.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘As far as I knew at the time, they met only once. Ruth used to come to my office in Eastvale. That’s where we did all . . . all our business. Believe it or not, I didn’t even know her address, where she lived, except she told me she’d grown up in Salford. Once – last Easter, I think it was – Emily was there. She’d come to borrow some money from me to go shopping. Ruth walked in. I introduced my daughter and told her Ruth was here about the new computer system we were thinking of installing. They chatted a bit – about music, what school Emily was at – that sort of thing. Just chit-chat. That was all. Or so I thought.’

  ‘So Emily didn’t know who Ruth really was?’

  ‘That’s what I believed at the time.’

  ‘What changed your mind?’

  ‘After Emily came . . . after you brought Emily back home, the phone rang one day. It was Ruth. I thought she was calling for me. I was angry because I’d specifically told her never to phone the house, but she asked to speak to Emily.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Afterwards, I asked Emily about it. Then she told me about how Ruth had phoned her a lot at school, how she’d even been down to London once for a weekend and stayed with her. How they were friends.’

  ‘So Emily knew that Ruth was her half-sister?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What was her reaction?’

  ‘You knew Emily. She thought it was all rather cool, her mother having a secret past. She promised not to say anything. She was well aware of how her father would react.’

  ‘Did you trust her?’

  ‘For the most part. Emily wasn’t malicious, though she could be unpredictable. You know, at her age, I wasn’t much different. If we’d been contemporaries, who knows, we might have been friends.’

  ‘I can only imagine the havoc the two of you might have wreaked.’

  Rosalind smiled her Emily smile again. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did she know about the blackmail?’

  ‘Good Lord, no. At least, she never said anything about it. And I doubt that’s something Ruth would have admitted to her half-sister. Emily was very headstrong and irresponsible, but she was honest at the bottom of it all. I can’t see her condoning what Ruth was doing if she knew about it.’

  That made sense. But what if Emily had found out on her own? ‘Why tell me all this now?’ he asked.

  Rosalind shrugged. ‘A lot of reasons. Jerry’s death. Your finding him. Your bringing Emily back. You know, for better or for worse, you’ve become part of our lives this last month or so. I had to tell someone and I couldn’t think of anyone else. Isn’t that pathetic? Ever since Emily came home, I’ve been going crazy keeping it to myself, but I couldn’t risk telling you then. Not while Jerry was alive. I know you didn’t like him, but I know that you policemen stick together. And anything you discover often makes its way into the papers. I’m not saying you would have said anything, but . . .’

  ‘Walls have ears?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter now, does it? Nothing matters now. Apart from my anger, I just feel empty.’ She put her glass aside and stood up. ‘Now I really must go. I’ve said what I came to say. Thank you for listening.’

  As Annie was about to turn left into Banks’s drive just before Gratly Bridge, a car shot out backwards and swung towards her so fast she had to floor the brake pedal to avoid a collision. The other car then set off down the hill towards Helmthorpe.

  Heart beating fast, Annie turned left and drove slowly up to Banks’s cottage. She could see him silhouetted in the open door, wearing only a shirt and jeans despite the cold.

  Annie pulled up in front and got out.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Banks said.

  ‘That’s a nice welcome. Can I come in?’

  He stood aside. ‘You might as well. Everyone else does.’

  Annie had come prepared to launch right into him, having pumped herself up on the drive, but the adrenaline surge of her near accident and Banks’s offhand manner took some of the wind out of her sails. Inside the cottage, she sat down in the armchair. It was still warm from whoever had just left it.

  ‘And what can I do for you?’ Banks said, shutting the door and going over to put more peat on the fire.

  ‘First you can get me a drink.’ Annie nodded towards the low table. ‘That wine will do just fine.’

  Banks went into the kitchen, got another glass and poured her some wine.

  ‘Who was that?’ she asked, taking the glass.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The person who just left like a bat out of hell. The person who damn near backed right into me.’

  ‘Oh, that person. Rosalind Riddle.’

  ‘Friend of yours?’

  ‘Work.’

  ‘Work? Oh, well, I can see why you wouldn’t want to tell me anything about it, then. After all, I’m only your DIO, aren’t I?’

  ‘Knock off the sarcasm, Annie. It doesn’t suit you. Of course I was going to tell you.’

  ‘Like you tell me everything?’

  ‘Come again?’

  ‘Oh, you know what I mean.’

  ‘Humour me.’

  ‘Rosalind Riddle is work, like
her daughter was work, right?’

  ‘I don’t get it. What are you implying?’

  ‘I’m not implying anything.’ Annie told him about leafing through the green sheets and finding the reference to the Hotel Fifty-Five. ‘No further action, or so Winsome told me. So I wondered why I hadn’t heard anything about it. I phoned the hotel and, lo and behold, who spent most of a night there together a month ago?’

  Banks said nothing; he just gazed sheepishly into the fire.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Annie went on. ‘Cat got your tongue?’

  ‘I don’t see why I should have to explain myself to you.’

  ‘Oh, you don’t, don’t you? I’ll tell you why. Murder. That’s why. Emily Riddle was murdered last week, or have you forgotten that?’ As she spoke, Annie felt the embers of her anger start to rekindle again. ‘Now, after the things I’ve discovered, I don’t think you’re fit to be working the case, but I’m your DIO and you owe me at least the fucking courtesy of telling me the truth about your relationship with the victim.’

  ‘There was no relationship.’

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘Annie, there—’

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘Will you let me talk?’

  ‘If you tell the truth.’

  ‘I am telling the truth.’

  ‘Liar.’

  ‘All right. So I liked Emily. So what? I don’t know why. She was a pain in the arse. But I liked her. That’s all. More like a daughter than anything. That’s as far as it went. It was my job to find her in London. She got herself into a bit of bother at a party and the only place she knew to come was to the hotel. I’d given her a card with the name written on, so she could contact me if she decided to come home. She was scared and alone and she came there. It’s as simple as that.’

  ‘What bother?’

  Banks told her about the incident with Andy Pandy at the party.

  ‘And you didn’t see fit to share this titbit of information with me, your DIO?’ Annie shook her head. ‘I can’t believe it. What else have you been keeping me in the dark about?’

  ‘Nothing, Annie. Look, I know it was wrong of me, but surely you can see why I was worried how it might appear?’

  ‘How it might appear? Emily Riddle turns up at your room at three o’clock in the morning and stays there the rest of the night, and you’re worried about how it might appear. Oh, yes, I think I can see why.’

  ‘Surely you can’t think . . .?’

  ‘What else am I supposed to think? You tell me. You spend the night in a hotel room with a randy sixteen-year-old slut, and you want me to believe nothing happened? Do you think I was born yesterday?’

  ‘Emily Riddle wasn’t a slut.’

  ‘Oh, pardon me! Isn’t that grand? Coming to the defence of your poor damsel in distress.’

  ‘Annie, the girl’s dead. At least you could show—’

  ‘Show what? Respect?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Were you showing her respect when you slept with her in that hotel room?’

  ‘Annie, I’ve told you. I didn’t sleep with her.’

  ‘And I don’t believe you. Oh, maybe you only intended to comfort her, give her a little cuddle, tell her everything was all right now, but from what I’ve heard of her, and from what I know about men, I very much doubt it ended there.’

  ‘I never touched her.’

  ‘You should have got her a room of her own.’

  ‘I was going to, but she fell asleep on the bed.’

  ‘Oh, come on.’

  ‘She did. She was stoned. That’s exactly what happened.’

  ‘And you? Where were you? I remember those rooms, They’re not very big.’

  ‘In the armchair by the window. I sat up for a while listening to some music on the Walkman, then I spent the rest of the night listening to her snoring while I was trying to get to sleep, if you must know.’

  Annie said nothing. She was trying to work out whether he was telling the truth or not. She suspected that he probably was, but she was determined not to let him off the hook that easily. However much it hurt or upset Annie, whether Banks had slept with Emily Riddle or not wasn’t the real issue, she told herself. He could sleep with whoever he damn well pleased, even if it happened to be a sixteen-year-old girl. Annie had no hold over him. What really mattered was that he had kept important information from her, as he had done before in this investigation, and she was beginning to find it harder and harder to trust him.

  ‘Anyway,’ Banks went on, ‘you’ve got a bloody nerve accusing me of screwing up on the job.’

  Annie stiffened. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘What about you? Do you really think you’ve been pulling your weight lately?’

  Annie flinched from the accusation. ‘I’ve had a few problems. That’s all. I told you. Personal problems.’

  ‘A few problems? Is that what you call sneaking off to sleep with DI Dalton every minute my back was turned? Don’t think I didn’t notice. I’m not stupid.’

  Annie shot forward and slapped him hard across the face. She could tell it hurt him, and he drew back, his cheek reddening. Hot tears brimmed in her eyes.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I didn’t mean it to sound so harsh. But you’ve got to admit you were pretty obvious. How do you think I felt?’

  Annie could feel the blood roaring through her veins and her heart knocking against her ribs, even louder and faster than when the car almost hit her earlier. She paused for what felt like hours, taking slow, deliberate breaths, trying to calm herself, get rid of the panic and rage that seemed to possess her. When she finally spoke, it was in a voice barely above a whisper. ‘You bloody idiot. For your information, DI Dalton was one of the men who raped me. But don’t let that bother you. I’ll go now.’ She started to get up.

  ‘Jesus Christ, Annie! No, don’t go. Please don’t go.’ Banks grasped her wrist. She looked at his hand for a moment, then she sat down again, all the fight gone out of her. Banks refilled her wineglass and his own. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ he said. ‘I feel like a fool. Why didn’t you say something?’

  ‘Like what? Come crying to my boss the first week on the job?’

  ‘Is he the one who actually—’

  ‘One of the others. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t have done it, too, if I’d given him half a chance. As far as I’m concerned they’re all three of them equally guilty.’

  ‘But you could have told me. You knew that I’d understand.’

  ‘And what would you have done? Gone flexing your macho muscles? Beat him up? Something like that? Had a pissing competition? No, thanks. It was my problem. I preferred to handle it myself.’

  ‘Looks like you did a good job.’

  ‘He’s still alive, isn’t he?’

  Banks smiled. ‘Annie, you don’t have to handle everything in life by yourself.’

  ‘Shows what you know about it. Wasn’t anyone around to help when it happened, was there?’

  ‘That doesn’t mean there’s no one now.’

  Annie looked at him and felt herself soften. ‘I can’t handle this,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘Annie, I’m sorry. What can I say?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Yes, it does. I saw the way you and Dalton tensed up when you met and I read it wrongly. I thought there was something between you.’

  ‘There was. Just not what you thought it was.’

  ‘I know that now. And I’m sorry. I should have trusted you.’

  Annie made a sound halfway between a sniff and a laugh. ‘Like I trusted you?’

  ‘I was jealous. Besides, I didn’t give you much reason to trust me, did I? I’ve handled this all wrong.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  ‘Annie, I swear on my honour that nothing happened between me and Emily Riddle except she passed out in my room. What was I to do? The next day I bought her some new clothes on Oxford Street and we went home on the train.’


  ‘And you really sat in one of those horrible hotel armchairs listening to your Walkman?’

  ‘Yes. And smoking.’

  ‘And smoking. Of course.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you tried to sleep but her snoring kept you awake?’

  ‘Yes. And the wind and rain.’

  ‘And the wind and rain.’ He looked so earnest that Annie couldn’t help herself; she burst into laughter. The thing was, she could just picture him there doing exactly what he said. He looked hurt. ‘I’m sorry, Alan. Really, I am. Nobody could make up a story as silly as that if it didn’t really happen.’

  Banks frowned. ‘So you believe me now?’

  ‘I believe you. I just wish you’d told me earlier. All this deception . . .’

  ‘On both sides.’

  ‘Oh, no. I didn’t deceive you. You read the situation wrongly.’

  ‘But you kept something from me.’

  ‘That was private business. It wasn’t to do with the case, not like your relationship with Emily Riddle. You really liked her?’

  ‘I don’t think I could have stood being around her for very long. She could be quite exhausting. Never stopped talking. And a hell of an attitude. But, yes, I did.’

  Annie tilted her head and gave him a crooked grin. ‘You’re a funny one. You’re so straight in some ways, but there’s a definite bohemian edge to you.’

  ‘Is that good?’

  ‘It’ll do. But I want you to know that I’m still seriously pissed off at you for not treating me as a professional. You’ve got a lot of making up to do.’

  ‘Annie, I’m sorry. Really, I am. It’s been difficult, given what we had, then me thinking you and Dalton . . . you know. I mean, it’s not as if I don’t still . . .’

  Annie felt her heart give a little somersault. ‘Don’t still what?’

  ‘Fancy you.’ The fire was waning and the air becoming chilly. Banks looked at Annie and she felt the stirrings of her feelings for him that she’d been trying to ignore since they split up. He picked up a lump of peat. ‘Are you staying?’ he asked. ‘Shall I put some more on? It’s getting cold.’

  Annie gave him a serious look, then bit her lip, stretched out her hand, the same hand she had slapped him with, and said, ‘Okay, but we’ve got a lot of talking to do.’