“Wait a minute!” said Kinsey. “Murder? Now hold on. I had nothing to do with that.”
“Then you’d ask for a solicitor, as is your right, and we’d have to bring one in for you. He or she would probably encourage you to answer most of our questions, so long as they didn’t incriminate you. Which they wouldn’t if you didn’t do anything wrong. We could go that route. After the arrest comes the charge, which is a lot more serious. That’s when we take you down to the custody suite, divest you of your belt, shoelaces and possessions and lock you in a cell for as long as we feel like.” Banks tapped the side of his head. “Oh, no, what was I thinking about? That was the good old days. Sorry. It’s twenty-four hours, unless our boss authorizes further periods. And she’s very upset about what happened to Hayley. Got kids of her own.” Banks could sense Winsome rolling her eyes. But it worked. Kinsey had lost his cool and sullen demeanor, and he now appeared like a very frightened young man in a lot of trouble, which was exactly what Banks wanted.
“What do you want to know?” he asked.
Banks nodded to Winsome, who turned on the small television monitor they had set up. The first clip showed Hayley walking away from her friends, Kinsey included, and disappearing into Taylor’s Yard. The time, 12:20 A.M., appeared along the bottom, along with the date and other technical details to prevent tampering. The second excerpt showed Stuart Kinsey dashing out of the arcade onto Castle Road. The time was 12:40. After the videos had finished, Banks paused to let the images sink in, then he said, “Whichever way you look at it, Stuart, you’re in a lot of trouble. What were you doing running out of The Maze at twelve-forty on Saturday night?”
“All right, I’d been looking for Hayley. But I didn’t kill her.”
“Tell me what happened.”
“It was like you saw in the other tape. We all said good-bye outside The Fountain. Hayley was…well, she’d had a few, if you must know.”
“I think we were aware of that,” said Banks. “It looks as if you were arguing. Why was she going into The Maze alone?”
“You know.”
“Tell me, Stuart.”
“Look, she was going for a piss, all right? The bogs in The Fountain were out of order. She’d had a skinful and she was going for a piss. That’s all. If it looks like we were arguing, it’s because we were trying to persuade her not to be so daft. But you can’t tell Hayley anything when she’s made her mind up, especially if she’s had a few.”
“She never said anything about meeting anyone?”
“No.”
“Wasn’t she afraid?”
“What had she to be afraid of? She didn’t know there was a murderer lurking there, did she?”
“Okay,” said Banks. “Why didn’t she wait until she got to the Bar None?”
“She just did things like that. She liked to be outrageous. She didn’t care what people thought. Besides, she wasn’t coming with us to the Bar None. Said she didn’t like the music.”
“Where was she going?”
“Dunno.”
“Okay, Stuart. You went into The Maze through the back exit of the Bar None shortly after you got there. Why?”
“I went to see if Hayley was okay.”
“You were worried about her? But you just told me you didn’t think she was in any danger, or had any reason to be.”
“Yeah, well, it just struck me that it’s dark down there and, you know, she might get lost or something.”
“And you wouldn’t? You know your way around The Maze, do you?”
“I didn’t really stop to think.”
“No. You just dashed out back to go and watch Hayley Daniels have a piss. Are you a pervert or something, Stuart?”
“No! I told you, it wasn’t like that at all. I wanted to…I wanted to see where she went.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? After she’d finished…you know…I wanted to see where she went. I didn’t do anything. Please. You have to believe me. I wouldn’t have hurt Hayley. Not for anything.”
“Were you in love with her?”
“I don’t know about love,” Kinsey said, “but I fancied her something rotten.”
At least that sounded honest, Banks thought. “Did Hayley know that?”
“It was pretty obvious.”
“What was her reaction?”
“Said we were friends. She blew hot and cold, did Hayley.”
“What was your reaction?”
“What do you mean?”
“She rejected you. How did you react?”
“It wasn’t like that!”
“Do you mean she accepted your advances? I’m confused.”
“I didn’t make any advances.”
“So how did she know you were interested?”
“We talked, like, we got on, you know, had stuff in common, bands and things, went to the pictures a couple of times. And there’s like an electricity between people, you know, you can feel it.”
“Did Hayley feel it, too?” Banks asked.
“I don’t suppose she did. At least she wouldn’t admit it. Hayley could be very distant. You never really knew where you stood with her. Like I said, hot and cold. She liked to be a part of the crowd, the party girl.”
“Center of attention?”
“Well, it wasn’t difficult for her. She was fit and she knew it. I mean, sometimes she got a bit rowdy, but it was just harmless fun. Sometimes I thought it was her way of, you know, keeping away any one particular person, being part of the group so you never really had to get close to someone, you could keep them at arm’s length. You’d get into a conversation with her, and then she’d say something, and before you knew it everyone would be involved and she was laughing at someone else’s joke. You couldn’t have her to yourself for very long.”
“That must have been very frustrating,” Banks said.
“You’re telling me.”
“So where did it lead?”
“Well, it didn’t lead anywhere, really. I didn’t sleep with her or anything. Just snogging and stuff. Sometimes I got the impression recently that she…no, it doesn’t matter.”
“It might, Stuart,” said Banks. “Let me be the judge.”
Kinsey paused and chewed on his fingernail. “Can I have a cup of tea or something?” he asked. “I’m thirsty.”
“Of course.” Not wanting to interrupt the rhythm of the interview, Banks signaled to Winsome, who got up and asked the constable outside the door to rustle up some tea.
“Won’t be long,” Banks said to Kinsey. “Now, Stuart, you were going to tell me about that impression you had.”
“Well, you know, it was just a sort of vague idea, like.”
“Even so…”
“Sometimes I thought maybe she’d got a bloke.”
“When did this start?”
“Couple of months ago. Around then.”
“Any idea who this bloke was? One of the others in the group?”
“No. Someone she was keeping secret.” He leaned forward on the table. “You see, that’s what I meant when I said I was in The Maze because I wanted to see where she went. I was going to follow her, find out who the mystery bloke was.”
“But you didn’t see her?”
“No. I thought she must have already gone. I mean, it was a good five minutes or so after we left her that I went in. It doesn’t take that long to…you know.”
“Right,” said Banks. Hayley had been sick, he remembered Dr. Burns telling him, which would have kept her there longer. “Did you see or hear anything while you were in there?”
“I…I thought I heard a door bang shut and a sort of…not a scream, but a muffled sort of cry. You don’t think it could have been her, do you? It creeped me out, I have to tell you.”
“What time was this?”
“Just after I went in. I wasn’t really aware of the time, but I suppose it was around twenty-five past, something like that.”
Just five minutes
after Hayley herself had entered The Maze, Banks thought. “Did you see anyone?”
“No, nothing.”
“What did you do when you heard the noise? Is that why you were running?”
Kinsey nodded and studied the scratched table. “I got out of there pretty damn quickly,” he said. “I figured she must have finished before I got there and left already. You don’t really think it was her I heard, do you? Maybe I could have saved her, but I got scared. Oh, God…” Kinsey put his head in his hands and started crying.
Banks was almost certain that it was Hayley whom Kinsey had heard, but he wasn’t going to tell him that. His own imagination would torture him more than enough as it was. At least the time of the attack could be fixed more accurately now. Hayley’s killer had grabbed her about five minutes after she had gone into The Maze, just after she had been sick and finished what she had gone there to do. Perhaps watching her had excited and inflamed him.
The timing made perfect sense, of course. Hayley would hardly have been hanging around there unless she had made an assignation. Again, what Kinsey had said about the mystery boyfriend came back to Banks. Maybe she had made a date with him? Maybe that was who had killed her? But why arrange to meet him in The Maze if she was going to spend the night with him? It would make far more sense to go to his flat or wherever he lived. And why would a boyfriend resort to rape, or murder? Such things did happen, Banks knew. Not long ago, West Yorkshire police had arrested a man who regularly drugged and raped three girlfriends who would all have been perfectly happy to have consensual sex with him. Nothing much surprised Banks these days when it came to sexual deviance.
Hayley had carried condoms in her handbag, so she was obviously sexually active. Perhaps Stuart Kinsey had killed her, out of frustration, or out of jealousy. They were powerful emotions, as Banks knew from previous cases. Under the sway of jealousy, a man or a woman was capable of almost anything.
The tea arrived and Kinsey calmed down. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just couldn’t bear the thought that I might have been able to do something, but I ran away.”
“You didn’t know what was happening,” Banks said. It wasn’t much consolation, but it was some. He leaned forward. “I’m very interested in this idea of yours about Hayley having a secret boyfriend,” he went on. “Any ideas who it might be or why she might keep him a secret?”
6
IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN, ALAN,” SAID ANNIE EARLY on Tuesday afternoon in The Horse and Hounds, a tiny, quiet pub off the market square where you could get a decent salad and enjoy a pint without Detective Superintendent Catherine Gervaise finding out about it. There was a tiny windowless nonsmoking bar, all dark gleaming wood and plush red velveteen, with old hunting prints on the wall—at least it was still legal to depict scenes of foxhunting—where it seemed that nobody ever sat. You had to go to the main bar to get drinks, but other than that, it was the ideal place for a private meeting.
Annie was drinking diet bitter lemon, having not touched a drop of alcohol since Saturday night. Banks was well into his pint of Tetley’s Cask, and the obvious pleasure he was taking in it was making Annie feel envious. Well, she thought, it wasn’t as if she had taken the pledge and was going to stop drinking forever. It was simply a small hiatus to get herself together, review the situation, and maybe lose a little weight. Tomorrow, perhaps, she’d have a pint. Or maybe a glass of wine after work tonight. Fortunately, the burger Banks also seemed to be enjoying held no appeal for her whatsoever.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Banks asked after a few minutes of small talk about mutual friends and acquaintances in Eastern Area.
“I know you’re busy with The Maze case,” Annie said. “I’ve heard about it. Poor girl. Any suspects yet?”
“A few. We’re waiting on forensics and toxicology results,” said Banks. “And there are some more people we need to talk to. Kev Templeton thinks we’ve got a serial killer on our hands already. He might have a point. Even though there’s been only one definite victim so far, it has all the hallmarks of a violent sex crime, and people who do that don’t usually stop at one.”
“Kevin Templeton’s an arsehole,” said Annie.
“That may be, but he can be a good copper if he puts his mind to it.”
Annie snorted in disbelief. “Anyway,” she said, “I think you’ll be interested in what’s happened out Whitby way.”
“Oh?” said Banks. “I’m intrigued. I did hear something about a woman in a wheelchair being killed out there.”
“Yes,” Annie said. “A woman by the name of Karen Drew.”
“It doesn’t ring any bells.”
“It wouldn’t,” said Annie. “It’s not her real name.”
“Oh.”
“No. Julia Ford told me what her real name was yesterday.”
Banks paused with the burger halfway to his mouth and put it back down on the plate. “Julia Ford. Now there’s a blast from the past.”
“Starting to ring some bells?”
“Yes, but I don’t like the sound they’re making. Julia Ford. Woman in a wheelchair. Sounds very dissonant to me.”
“It was Lucy Payne.”
“Shit,” said Banks. “I take it the media don’t know yet?”
“No, but they’ll find out soon enough. Detective Superintendent Brough’s trying to head them off at the pass. He’s called a press conference for this afternoon.”
“I hope you don’t expect me to feel any pity for her,” Banks said.
“It always struck me that you had a very complicated relationship with her,” said Annie. “That’s partly why I’ve come to you.”
“Complicated? With the ‘Friend of the Devil’? Ruined a perfectly good Grateful Dead song for me, that’s all. Now, whenever I hear it, I see her face, see those bodies in the cellar.”
“Come off it, Alan. It’s me, remember. Annie. I’m not Jim Hatchley. You don’t have to play the yahoo with me.”
Banks sipped some beer. Annie looked at him and tried to figure out what he was thinking. She never could. He thought he was transparent, but he was really as cloudy as an unfiltered pint.
“She was a complicated woman,” Banks said. “But she was a killer.”
“A young and beautiful killer,” Annie added.
“That, too,” Banks agreed. “Are you saying that affected my judgment?”
“Oh, come on. I’ve never known a time when a woman’s beauty hasn’t affected a man’s judgment. You don’t even need to go back as far as Helen of Troy to work that one out.”
“I wasn’t her champion, you’ll remember,” said Banks. “As far as I was concerned, she was as guilty as her husband, and I wanted her put away for it.”
“Yes, I know, but you understood her, didn’t you?”
“Not for a moment.” Banks paused. “I’m not saying I might not have wanted to, or even tried to, but it wasn’t anything to do with her beauty. She was in bandages most of the times I saw her, anyway. Look below the surface and there was a hell of a lot of darkness. Okay, I’ll admit she was a complex and interesting killer. We’ve both come across those.”
“Touché,” said Annie, thinking of Phil Keane, who had wreaked so much havoc on her and Banks’s lives not much more than a year ago, damage Annie had certainly not yet got over if her recent behavior was anything to go by. A charming psychopath, Keane had used Annie to monitor the investigation of a crime he had committed, and when he came close to getting caught, he had almost killed Banks.
“But Lucy Payne had a most unusual and deeply troubled childhood,” Banks went on. “I’m not saying that excuses anything she did, or even really explains it, but can you really get your head around being kept in a cage and sexually abused by your family day after day, year after year?”
“The abused becomes the abuser?”
“I know it sounds like a cliché, but isn’t that often the case? Anyway, you didn’t come to me for my theories on Lucy Payne. In a way, death was probably a blessing
for her.” He raised his glass for a moment, as if in a mock toast, then drank.
“True,” said Annie. “What I was thinking was that I have to revisit that case if I want to have a hope in hell of catching her killer.”
“And what makes you want to do that?”
“My nature,” Annie said. “I can’t even believe you’d ask me such a question.”
“Come off it, Annie. You thought she was as guilty as I did.”
“I know,” said Annie. “So what? If anything, that makes me want to solve her murder even more.”
“To prove you can overcome your own prejudices?”
“What’s so wrong with that? I might never have said it, but I was glad when she ended up paralyzed. Death would have been too easy for her. This way she suffered more, and a part of me thought that was just, given the way she’d made those poor girls suffer. Karma, if you like.”
“And the other parts of you?”
“Told me what a load of self-justifying bollocks that was. Whatever she did, whatever she was, Lucy Payne was a human being. As a society, we don’t tolerate executing people anymore, but someone has taken the law into his or her own hands and slit Lucy Payne’s throat as she sat there unable to defend herself. That goes against everything I believe in. No matter what she did, it was nobody’s right to take Lucy Payne’s life.”
“What, they should have let her go on suffering a kind of living death? Come on, Annie, someone did her a favor.”
“It wasn’t a mercy killing.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I’ve never come across anyone who felt she deserved the tiniest drop of mercy, that’s why. Except perhaps you.”
“Well, I didn’t kill her,” said Banks.
“Now you’re playing silly buggers.”
Banks touched the scar beside his right eye. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so sarcastic. All I’m saying is that you have to be sure you want to open that can of worms. You know who the main suspects will be.”
“Of course I do,” said Annie. “The parents and families and friends of the girls the Paynes raped, abused and killed, for a start. That neighbor, Maggie Forrest, who was taken in by Lucy and then betrayed. Maybe even one of the police officers on the case. A friend or relative of Janet Taylor’s, who was another victim of the whole business. When you get right down to it, lots of people would want her dead, including publicity seekers. Can you imagine the confessions we’ll get?”
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