Piece Of My Heart

by Peter Robinson

  2, 5, 6, 7, 8, 11, 13, 14, 16, 18, , 21, 22, 23

  They meant nothing to him, but then he had never been any good at codes, if that was what it was supposed to be, or anything to do with numbers, really. He couldn’t even tackle sudokus. It might be the most obvious sequence of prime negative ordinals, or whatever, in the world, and he wouldn’t know it from a betting slip. He racked his brains to think of someone who was good at stuff like that. Not Annie or Kev Templeton, that was for sure. Winsome was good with computers, so maybe she had a strong mathematical brain. Then it came to him. Of course! How could he have forgotten so soon? He grabbed his internal telephone directory, but before he could find the number he wanted, the phone rang. It was Winsome.

  “Sir?”

  “Yes, Winsome.”

  “We’ve got him. I mean, we know who he is. The victim.”

  “That’s great.”

  “Sorry it took so long, but my contact at the DVLA was at a wedding this morning. That’s why I couldn’t get in touch with her. She had her mobile turned off.”

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Nicholas Barber, and he lived in Chiswick.” Winsome gave Banks an address.

  “Bloody hell,” said Banks. “That’s the second Londoner killed up here this year. If they get wind of that down south, the tourists will all think there’s a conspiracy and stop coming.”

  “A lot of people might think that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, sir,” said Winsome. “Maybe then some of the locals would be able to afford to live here.”

  “Don’t you believe it. Estate agents would find some other way to gouge the buyers. Anyway, now we know who he is, we can see about checking his phone records. I can’t believe he didn’t have a mobile.”

  “Even if he had, he couldn’t have used it in Fordham. No coverage.”

  “Yes, but he might have gone to Eastvale or somewhere to make calls.”

  “But what network?”

  “Check with all the majors.”

  “But, sir-”

  “I know. It’s Saturday. Just do the best you can, Winsome. If you have to wait until Monday morning, so be it. Nick Barber’s not going anywhere, and his killer’s already long gone.”

  “Will do, sir.”

  Banks thought for a moment. Nick Barber – there was something familiar about that name, but he couldn’t for the life him remember what it was. Then he reached for the directory again and carried on with what he had been doing.

  Annie let Kelly Soames collect herself and dry her eyes, trying to minimize the embarrassment the young girl obviously felt at her outburst of emotion.

  “I’m sorry,” Kelly said finally. “I’m not usually like this. It’s just the shock.”

  “You knew him well?”

  Kelly blushed. “No, not at all. We only… I mean, it was just a shag, that’s all.”

  “Still…” said Annie, thinking that shagging was pretty intimate, even if there was no love involved, and that by speaking of it that way Kelly was trying to diminish what had happened so she wouldn’t feel it so painfully. If someone was naked with you one minute, caressing you, entering you and giving you pleasure, then lying on the floor with his head bashed in the next, it didn’t make you a softy if you shed a tear or two. “Care to tell me about it?”

  “You mustn’t tell my dad. He’ll go spare. Promise?”

  “Kelly, I’m after information about the… about Nick. Unless you were involved in some way with his murder, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “I won’t have to go to court or anything?”

  “I can’t imagine why.”

  Kelly thought for a moment. “There wasn’t much to it, really,” she said finally. Then she looked at Annie. “It’s not something I do all the time, you know. I’m not a slag.”

  “Nobody’s saying you are.”

  “My dad would if he found out.”

  “What about your mother?”

  “She died when I was sixteen. Dad’s never remarried. She… they weren’t very happy together.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Annie. “But there’s no reason for your father to find out.”

  “As long as you promise.”

  Annie hadn’t promised, and she wasn’t going to. The way things stood, she could see no reason why Kelly’s secret should come out, and she would do her best to protect it, but the situation could change. “How did it happen?” she asked.

  “Like I said, he was nice. In the pub, you know. Lots of people just treat you like dirt because you’re a barmaid, but not Nick.”

  “Did you know his second name?”

  “No, sorry. I just called him Nick.”

  The wind moaned and rocked the car. Kelly hugged herself. She wasn’t wearing much more than she had been the previous evening. “Cold?” Annie asked. “I’ll turn the heater on.” She started the car and turned the heat on. Soon the windows misted over with condensation. “That’s better. Go on. You got chatting in the pub.”

  “No. That’s just it. My dad’s always there, isn’t he? He was there last night. That’s why I… anyway, he watches me like a hawk at work. He’s like the rest, thinks a barmaid’s no better than a whore. You should have heard the arguments we had about me taking the job.”

  “Why did he let you take it, then?”

  “Money. He was sick of me living at home and not having a job.”

  “That’ll do it. So you didn’t meet Nick in the pub?”

  “Well, we did meet there. I mean, that’s where we first saw each other, but he was just like any other customer. He was a fit-looking lad. I’ll admit I fancied him, and I think maybe he could see that.”

  “But he wasn’t a lad, Kelly. He was much older than you.”

  Kelly stiffened. “He was only thirty-eight. That’s not old. And I’m twenty-one. Besides, I like older men. They’re not always pawing you like kids my own age. They understand. They listen. And they know about things. All the kids my age talk about is football and beer, but Nick knew everything about music, all the bands, everything. The stories he told me. He was sophisticated.”

  Annie made a mental note of that while wondering just how long it took this Nick to start “pawing” Kelly. “How did you meet him, then?” she asked.

  “In town. Eastvale. Wednesday’s my day off, see, and I was out shopping. He was just coming out of that secondhand bookshop down by the side of the church, and I almost bumped into him. Talk about blush. Anyway, he recognized me, and we got chatting, went for a drink in the Queen’s Arms. He was funny.”

  “What happened?”

  “He gave me a lift back – I’d come on the bus – and we arranged to meet later.”

  “Where?”

  “At the cottage. He invited me for a meal. I told my dad I was going out with some girlfriends.”

  “And what happened?”

  “What do you think? He made a meal – a curry – he wasn’t a bad cook, and we listened to some music and… you know…”

  “You went to bed together.”

  “Yes.”

  “Only that once?”

  Kelly looked away.

  “Kelly?”

  “We did it again on Friday, all right? I got two hours off in the afternoon to go to the dentist but I rearranged my appointment for next Wednesday.”

  “What time on Friday?”

  “Between two and four.”

  That was the afternoon of the murder. Only two or three hours after Kelly had left, in all likelihood, Nick had been killed. “And those were the only occasions you spent with him? Wednesday night and Friday afternoon?”

  “We didn’t spend the night together. Not that I wouldn’t have, mind you. Just the evening. Had to be home by eleven. As you might have gathered, my father’s a bit of a Victorian when it comes to matters of freedom and discipline.”

  Yes, and you were off shagging some older bloke you’d just laid eyes on for the first time, Annie thought. Maybe Kelly’s father had a point. Anyway, it was n
one of her business. She was surprised at herself for being so judgmental. “What does he do for a living?”

  “He’s a farmer. Can you imagine anything more naff?”

  “Plenty of things.”

  “Huh. Well, I can’t.”

  “Do you know someone called Jack Tanner?”

  Kelly seemed surprised at the question. “Yes,” she said. “He lives just down the road from the pub.”

  “What do you think of him?”

  “I can say I do very much. Think of him, that is. He always seems a bit of a miserable sod, to me. And he’s a total lech as well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He’s always looking at my tits. He doesn’t think I know, but it’s well obvious. He does it with all us young girls.”

  “Have you ever seen him in the pub?”

  “No. CC barred him before I started working there. He can’t hold his drink. He’s always picking fights.”

  Annie made a note to look into Jack Tanner further and went on. “What do you remember about the cottage?”

  “It just looked like a cottage. You know, old furniture and stuff, a creaky bed, toilet with a wonky seat.”

  “What about Nick’s personal things?”

  “You must know. You were in there.”

  “Everything’s gone, Kelly.”

  Kelly gave her a startled look. “Somebody stole it? Is that why they killed him? But there was hardly anything there, unless he was hiding money under the mattress, and I don’t think he was. You could have felt a pea under that thing.”

  “What did he have?”

  “Just a few books, a portable CD player with a couple of those small speakers you can set up. Not great sound, but okay. Mostly he liked old stuff, but he had some more modern bands: Doves, Franz Ferdinand, Kaiser Chiefs. And he had a computer.”

  “Laptop?”

  “Yes. A little one. Toshiba, I think. He said he used it used it mostly for watching DVDs, but he did do some work on it, too.”

  “What kind of work?”

  “He was a writer.”

  “What sort of writer?”

  “I don’t know. He never told me about it and I never asked. None of my business, was it? Maybe he was writing his autobiography.”

  That would be a bit presumptuous at thirty-eight, Annie thought, but people had written autobiographies at earlier ages than that. “But he definitely said he was a writer?”

  “I asked him what he was doing up here at such a miserable time of year, and he said he wanted a bit of peace and quiet to do some writing. I could tell he was being a bit shy and secretive about it, so I didn’t push. I wasn’t after his life story, anyway.”

  “Did he ever show you anything he’d written?”

  “No. I mean, all we did was have a curry, a chat and a shag. I didn’t go searching through his stuff or anything. What do you think I am?”

  “All right, Kelly, don’t get your knickers in a twist.”

  Kelly managed a brief smile. “Bit late for that, isn’t it?”

  “What did you use for contraception?”

  “Condoms. What do you think?”

  “We didn’t find any in the house.”

  “We used them all. On Friday, like, he wanted to, you know, do it again, but we couldn’t. There weren’t any left, and it was too late to go into Eastvale. I had to be at work. And there’s no way I was going to do it without. I’m not totally stupid.”

  “Okay,” said Annie. Once she had got Kelly talking, she had proved to be far less shy and reticent than she appeared in public. So that explained the rumpled bed and lack of condoms. But robbery hardly seemed like a motive. Obviously, if Nick had had something of great value there, he wouldn’t have told some local scrubber he’d picked up in a pub, but why cart anything of value up here in the first place? Unless he was blackmailing somebody. Or making a payoff.

  “Did he have a mobile?”

  “He did. A fancy Nokia. Fat lot of good it did him, though. They don’t work around here. You have to go to Eastvale or Helmthorpe. It’s a real drag.”

  That was a problem in the Dales, Annie knew. They’d put up some new towers, but coverage was still patchy in places because of the hills. There wasn’t a landline at the cottage – most rental places don’t include one for obvious reasons – and both Mrs. Tanner and Winsome had used the telephone box across the road, by the church. “How did he seem when you were with him?” she asked.

  “He was fine.”

  “He didn’t seem upset, depressed or worried about anything?”

  “No, not at all.”

  “What about drugs?”

  Kelly paused. “We smoked a couple of joints, that’s all. I’d never do anything harder than that.”

  “Did he have a lot of gear?”

  “No, just enough for himself. At least that’s all I saw. Look, he wasn’t a drug dealer, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

  “I’m not getting at anything,” said Annie. “I just want to establish some idea of Nick’s state of mind. Was he any different on Friday afternoon?”

  “No, not so’s I noticed.”

  “He wasn’t nervous or edgy, as if he was expecting someone?”

  “No.”

  “Did you make any plans for the future?”

  “Well, he didn’t ask me to marry him, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

  Annie laughed. “I don’t suppose he did, but were you going to see one another again?”

  “Sure. He was up here for another week, and I said I could get away a few times – if he got some more condoms. He said I could come and see him in London, too, if I wanted. He gets lots of free tickets and he said he’d take me to concerts.” She pouted. “My dad would never let me go, though. He thinks London’s some sort of den of iniquity.”

  “Did Nick give you his address?”

  “We didn’t get that far. We thought… you know… we’d see one another again up here. Oh, shit! Sorry.” She dabbed at her face again. Crying had made her skin blotchy. Other than that, she was a beautiful young woman, and Annie could see why any man would be attracted to her. She wasn’t stupid, either, as she had pointed out, and there was a forthrightness about her attitude to sex that many might envy. But now she was just an upset and confused kid, and her skin was breaking out.

  When she’d pulled herself together, she laughed and said, “You must think I’m well daft, crying over some bloke I just met.”

  “No, I don’t,” said Annie. “You felt close to him, and now he’s dead. That must be terrible. It must hurt.”

  Kelly looked at her. “You understand, don’t you? You’re not like the rest. Not like that sourpuss you had with you last night.”

  Annie smiled at the description of Banks, not one she would have used herself. “Oh, he’s all right,” she said. “He’s just been going through a rough time lately, too.”

  “No, I mean it. You’re all right, you are. What’s it like, being a copper?”

  “It has its moments,” Annie said.

  “Do you think they’d have me, if I applied, like?”

  “I’m sure it would be worth a try,” Annie said. “We’re always looking for bright, motivated people.”

  “That’s me,” Kelly said with a crooked smile. “Bright and motivated. I’m sure my dad would approve.”

  “I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Annie said, thinking of what Banks had told her about the way his parents reacted to his chosen profession. “But don’t let it stop you.”

  Kelly frowned, then she said, “Look, I’ve got to get to work. I’m already late. CC’ll go spare.”

  “Okay,” said Annie. “I think I’m just about done for now.”

  “Can you give me a minute before we go?” said Kelly, pulling down the mirror and taking a small pink container from her handbag. “I’ve got to put my face on.”

  “Of course.” Annie watched with amusement while Kelly applied eye shadow and mascara and various powders and po
tions to hide the acne and blotchiness, then drove down the hill to drop the girl at the Cross Keys before heading back up to see what was happening at the youth hostel.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  10th-12th September, 1969

  Over the next few days, Chadwick’s investigation proceeded with a frustrating lack of progress. The two essential questions – who was the victim, and who was with her at the time of her death – remained unanswered. Surely, Chadwick thought, someone, somewhere, must be missing her? Unless she was a runaway.

  Things had been quiet on the home front since he and Yvonne had come to their compromise. He was convinced now that she had been at the Brimleigh Festival on Sunday night – she really wasn’t a very good liar – but there seemed little point in pursuing the issue now. It was over. The important thing was to try to head off anything along the same lines in the future, and Janet was right; he wouldn’t achieve that by ranting at her.

  On Wednesday, though, Chadwick had paid a quick visit to the Grove, just to see the kind of place where his daughter was spending her time. It was a small, scruffy, old-fashioned pub by the canal, with one dingy room set aside for the young crowd. He checked with his friend Geoff Broome on the drugs squad and found it didn’t have a particularly bad reputation, which was good news. God only knew what Yvonne saw in the dump.

  Dr. O’Neill – whose full postmortem report had yielded nothing to dispute the cause of death – had estimated the victim’s age at between seventeen and twenty-one, so it was conceivable that she had left home and was living by herself at the time of her murder. In which case, what about her friends, boyfriends, colleagues at work? Either they didn’t know what had happened, or they hadn’t missed her yet. Did she even have a job? Hippies didn’t like work, Chadwick knew that. Perhaps she was a student, or on holiday. One interesting point that Dr. O’Neill had included in his report was that there was a parturition scar on the pelvic bone, which meant that she had given birth to a baby.

  DC Bradley had viewed all the television footage of the festival and spoken with newspaper reporters who had attended the event. He had learned precisely nothing. The victim was nowhere to be seen on the film, which more often than not panned over a sea of young idealistic faces, and cut back and forth from the gymnastic displays of the bands onstage to close-shot interviews with individual musicians and revelers. Perhaps it might all be of some use in the future, when they had a suspect or needed to pick someone out of the crowd, but for the moment it was useless.