‘I told you. That’s what happened. Why don’t you believe me?’
‘Because it’s come to our attention that the two of you were hanging out with a drug dealer called Kyle McClusky. Kyle dealt bad stuff, like methamphetamines, oxycodone, cocaine and Rohypnol, or roofies, used for slipping into unsuspecting girls’ drinks and making them compliant for sex. What we heard was that Gavin Miller warned Kyle to leave or he’d report him. Kyle left, but he was angry, he wanted revenge, and for that he enlisted you and Kayleigh. You probably thought it was a great lark. Isn’t that what really happened?’
Beth had gone quiet and very pale during Winsome’s interpretation of events. For a while, she said nothing, then she muttered, ‘I can’t speak for Kayleigh, but I know what happened to me.’
‘That doesn’t sound very convincing,’ said Winsome. ‘Listen to yourself, Beth. Strength in numbers. You made it all up, didn’t you, both of you, partly to get revenge for Kyle, and partly – well, for fun, or perhaps out of cruelty? It was a lark.’
‘No!’
‘Someone overheard you boasting about what you’d succeeded in doing when you thought there was no one listening.’
‘Who? Who said that? When? Where?’
‘It doesn’t matter who, when or where,’ said Winsome. ‘The point is that it’s true, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know. How could I remember something like that? It’s probably a lie. I don’t remember doing anything like that. But it doesn’t matter now, anyway, does it? Professor Miller’s dead and we’ve all moved on.’
‘You did terrible damage to his career, to his life,’ Winsome said. ‘Doesn’t that bother you?’
‘He was always staring at my breasts.’
‘But he didn’t touch them, did he?’
Beth’s lips drew tight together. She said nothing, but Winsome could see it in her eyes, that mixture of fear and defiance; Beth was working out what they could do to her, how brazen she could be. In the end she whispered, ‘No.’
‘And Kayleigh?’
‘We were talking. She said he was always ogling her, too. He was a creep. We thought we’d get our own back and give him one for forcing Kyle out of college at the same time.’
‘Don’t you realise that he probably did Kyle a big favour by not reporting him to the authorities immediately?’
‘We didn’t see it that way at the time.’
Winsome nodded to show her understanding, and that she was being non-judgemental. In fact, she was thinking what an utter worthless soul this girl and her friend were, and how they deserved some sort of punishment for what they had done to Gavin Miller. But she wasn’t going to express any of that. It would only put Beth on the defensive when they needed to get her to relax her guard. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘That’s better. I’m interested in the drugs. Did Kyle supply Mr Miller with drugs while he was at Eastvale?’
‘Mr Miller? No way,’ said Beth incredulously. ‘Mr Miller was a prof. He … I mean, he wouldn’t be taking drugs, would he?’
‘Might Kyle have wanted to take his own revenge on Gavin Miller? Perhaps he felt that Miller robbed him of his education, of a chance to make something of his life.’
‘How would I know? Kyle was pissed off, sure. Who wouldn’t be?’
‘Which one of you was going out with him?’
‘Kyle? Neither of us, really. I mean, we just hung out and partied. I suppose him and Kayleigh used to fuck sometimes when they were high. Kayleigh liked coke, and Kyle usually had some.’
‘And you?’
‘I never touched any of it.’
And the moon is made of green cheese, thought Winsome, but again she nodded sagely, and with understanding. Kyle and Kayleigh, what a funny combination it sounded. As if they should be on a reality TV show.
‘Do you still see one another?’ Gerry asked, glancing up from her notebook. ‘You and Kayleigh.’
‘What?’ Beth looked as if she had almost forgotten Gerry was there. ‘Oh, no. We went our separate ways. It’s four years ago. A lifetime. We’ve both moved on.’
Right, thought Winsome, and Banks is still chasing the connection between Gavin Miller and Lady Chalmers that, if it existed at all, goes back forty years. Four didn’t seem so long by comparison; it was all relative. ‘So you don’t see one another, you never meet up for a drink, anything like that, talk about old times, have a laugh?’ she asked.
‘Nope.’
‘And Kyle?’
‘I’ve no idea where he is or what he’s doing, and I don’t care.’
‘So it was all just a bit of a lark to you?’
‘I suppose it was, yeah. What of it? There’s nothing you can do. Not now. Why don’t you give it a rest? Too much time has gone by. Nobody at the college would thank you for raking it up. And Professor Miller’s dead, so he doesn’t care, does he?’
‘I suppose not,’ said Winsome. ‘Can you think of anything in any of this mess that could possibly be linked with Gavin Miller’s murder?’
‘Well I certainly didn’t do it!’
‘Did he ever come to you and ask for money?’
‘No. Why would he do that?’
‘Where were you last Sunday night around ten o’clock?’ Gerry asked.
‘Here. Ask anyone. We work Sundays, and we don’t finish till midnight or one o’clock.’
‘Did you ever see Gavin Miller again after he was dismissed and you graduated?’
‘No. Why would I? It was just something I wanted to forget, put behind me.’
‘But why? It was fun, wasn’t it? Didn’t you want to carry on torturing the poor man?’
Beth rubbed at an imaginary patch on her jeans. When she looked up again, Winsome thought her eyes were glistening a little, as if brimming with tears, though none came. ‘It was fun at first, yes. Just to have something actually happening around that bloody mausoleum was fun. It was fun to see just how pompous they all got, all pompous and holier than thou. But then … I mean, I just wanted it to stop, wanted to say let’s put an end to it, let it go.’
‘Why didn’t you?’
‘It was too late. I couldn’t. It seemed to have a momentum all of its own by then. Everything was in motion. If we’d retracted, then we’d have been the ones out on our ears. I mean Kayleigh and me. Kyle was already out.’
‘So you went on with the farce right to the bitter end?’
‘Yes. I mean, it’s not as if he didn’t ogle us or anything.’
Ogling’s one thing, Winsome wanted to say, and touching is quite another, but she kept quiet.
‘Beth, have you ever heard of Lady Veronica Chalmers?’ Gerry asked. ‘Did Gavin Miller ever mention her to you?’
‘Who?’
‘Lady Veronica Chalmers. She writes as Charlotte Summers.’
Beth shook her head slowly in incomprehension. ‘I’ve heard of her, of course, read about her – isn’t she the one who writes bodice-rippers, whose husband produces those big Broadway spectaculars? – but just from the entertainment sections in the papers. Not from Professor Miller or anyone else.’
‘From Kyle or Kayleigh?’
‘No. Why?’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Gerry.
‘Is there anything more you can tell us?’ Winsome asked, standing up to leave.
‘No,’ said Beth. ‘It was a stupid thing to do, I know, but it’s over. I’ve got my life to live now. There’s no point dwelling on the past, is there?’
When Banks and Annie returned to the station from Brierley House, after a brief stop for coffee and a post-mortem of the interview on their way, there was a message for Banks at reception, asking him to go up to Area Commander Gervaise’s office as soon as he was available. Annie raised her eyebrows, grinned and said, ‘Good luck,’ then hurried up to the squad room.
Banks took a deep breath and began following her up the stairs. When he reached Gervaise’s office door, he knocked and was immediately asked to come in. He shouldn’t have been surprised to see Assistant C
hief Constable Ron McLaughlin sitting opposite AC Gervaise, but he was. Lady Chalmers must have been very quick off the mark indeed, he thought. Unless it was that smarmy lawyer, Ralph Nathan.
McLaughlin grunted a greeting, and Gervaise told Banks to sit down. There was no offer of coffee. ‘I assume you know what this is about?’ she began.
‘No idea,’ said Banks.
‘Cut the crap, Alan,’ McLaughlin cut in. ‘I’ve had the bloody chief constable bellowing fire in my ear for half an hour already this morning, and I’m in no mood for flippancy.’
‘Sir.’
‘As I understand it, you’ve paid two visits to Lady Veronica Chalmers in the last two days. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What was the reason for these visits?’
‘A man called Gavin Miller was found dead on a disused railway track near Coverton. Dr Glendenning’s post-mortem revealed that he had been involved in a scuffle before going over the side of a bridge. We checked his mobile phone records and found out that he had called Lady Chalmers a week ago. Her number is ex-directory, so he had gone to a bit of trouble to get it from their old university, Essex, and the whole thing smelled very suspicious.’
‘How?’
‘The phone call lasted almost seven minutes. Yesterday, Lady Chalmers told me it was something to do with the University of Essex alumni donations.’
‘And the problem is?’
‘We’ve discovered that Gavin Miller had no connection whatsoever with the alumni team at Essex, or anywhere else. Lady Chalmers was extremely vague about the whole thing. I don’t believe her version, sir.’
‘Why would she lie to you?’
‘That’s what I’d like to know. I can’t think of any good reason, unless she’s hiding something.’
‘Isn’t it more likely that Miller was lying to her, trying to pull some sort of a scam?’ said Gervaise. ‘You already know he was short of money and not averse to criminal activity, a drug addict, if the drugs found in his cottage are anything to go by. He was clearly trying to con her out of some money.’
‘That’s what Anthony Litton suggested,’ said Banks. ‘And that’s the most logical explanation.’
‘Well?’
‘Why didn’t she say so? All she had to tell us was that Miller was trying to con her and we’d have believed her. Instead she gives us some bollocks about alumni donations. And how did Miller know she was an Essex alumnus?’
‘Surely that’s a matter of public record? Anyway, it can’t have been that difficult to find out.’
‘It was dead simple, actually,’ said Banks. ‘He was at Essex at exactly the same time as she was. They probably knew one another. But Lady Chalmers never mentioned anything about that. And Miller wasn’t a drug addict or a dealer. His drugs were for personal use.’
‘So that makes it all right, does it?’ McLaughlin butted in. ‘Come off it, Alan. You surely don’t think Lady Veronica Chalmers had anything to do with this man’s death, do you? A drug user, a sex offender and a loser like Miller?’
‘I don’t know, sir. All he did was smoke a bit of marijuana from time to time. I’m just saying that I don’t think that makes him a junky. I doubt that Lady Chalmers was strong enough to throw him over the railway bridge, but she was rich enough to pay someone to do it.’
‘Don’t be absurd. What evidence do you have?’
Banks glanced from McLaughlin to Gervaise and back again. He shifted in his chair. It wasn’t the comfortable one he usually got. McLaughlin had that one. ‘I’ll admit that at the moment it’s pure conjecture, but it’s logical conjecture, if we can find a motive.’ He told them what he knew about the points at which Lady Chalmers’ and Miller’s paths coincided.
‘And you believe that all these things are connected and might make her a murderer?’ said Gervaise.
‘I’m saying that it’s possible, that’s all. If it were anyone else, we’d investigate it without question.’
‘And you have actual evidence that they knew each other at Essex, in America, in Eastvale?’
‘Not yet. Nothing concrete.’
‘These “connections” are preposterous,’ said Gervaise. ‘Circumstantial. So they lived in Eastvale at the same time. Lots of people do. I should imagine they moved in very different circles.’
Banks glanced at McLaughlin. ‘Obviously.’
‘Enough of that, Alan,’ McLaughlin said, reddening.
‘And the same in America,’ a tight-lipped Gervaise went on. ‘Besides, as I understand it, Miller was in Western Canada, not America – or at least not the United States of America – which is some distance from Beverley Hills, isn’t it?’
‘He could have travelled there, or she could have gone to Canada.’
‘But why? Do you have any evidence to suggest that?’
‘No,’ said Banks. ‘And it’s beginning to seem like I’ll never get the chance to dig up any.’
‘Is this some sort of witch hunt?’ McLaughlin said. ‘Have you got something against the woman?’
‘I don’t like being lied to, sir. Not by anyone.’
‘Then you’re in the wrong line of work.’
Banks half rose from his chair. ‘Is that some sort of threat?’
‘Alan, sit down,’ Gervaise intervened, and he noticed she also gave McLaughlin a chastising glance. The ACC looked uncomfortable, but he didn’t pull rank, as a lesser man might have done. ‘As far as I can see,’ Gervaise went on, ‘all you have against Lady Chalmers is nothing but vague suspicions and coincidence. You have no evidence that she knew this Miller character at all. You ought to know you need a lot more than that before you go around challenging or accusing people.’
‘Challenging titled people, you mean. And I haven’t accused anyone of anything, except perhaps not telling the full truth. What did Anthony Litton and Ralph Nathan tell you?’
‘Oh, come off it, Alan,’ Gervaise said. ‘Get real, as they say. Yes, Lady Chalmers is a respected and honoured member of the community, as is her brother-in-law in his. This isn’t some street-corner drug dealer you’re questioning. A bit of decorum, a bit of respect, wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘I was respectful,’ Banks said. ‘They just didn’t like what I was saying.’
‘Insinuating, more like it. And I can’t say I blame them,’ said Gervaise. ‘As I understand it, you even suggested that Lady Chalmers was being blackmailed by Miller. I’m not sure I’d like it if someone came around to me suggesting that sort of thing.’ Her tone softened, and she seemed to relax in her chair. ‘Don’t you think you’re letting yourself get a bit carried away by this, Alan?’ she went on. ‘There’s nothing sinister about any of it as far as I can see. I’m sure ACC McLaughlin agrees.’ McLaughlin nodded to show that he did. ‘Haven’t you heard of Occam’s razor? The simplest explanation is usually the best one. Yet you choose to go for the complicated conspiracy theory stretching back forty years. Take this business of going to university together. It turns out that I was at the same university as Liam in the lab, and at the same time. I didn’t know him. I was doing Sociology, and he was in Computer Studies. I wouldn’t have known if I hadn’t read over his CV when he started working here. For crying out loud, Alan, this was forty years ago you’re talking about. How could any of that possibly have any impact on the murder of an antisocial, disreputable character in the here and now?’
‘So I gather you’re asking me to lay off?’ Banks said.
‘Not asking,’ said McLaughlin. ‘I don’t want you visiting Lady Chalmers and her family again, or even talking to her on the telephone. Do I make myself clear?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘We can count ourselves damn lucky the press haven’t found out about it. Let’s keep it that way. Is there any media interest, by the way?’
‘In Miller’s murder?’
‘Yes.’
‘Minimal,’ said Banks. ‘It’s not as if he was rich or famous or anything.’ He was about to add, ‘Or played golf
with the chief constable,’ but thought better of it and bit his tongue.
‘Any chance of a leak?’
‘I can’t see how. Nobody’s approached me, at any rate.’
‘So we should be able to keep all this under wraps, if you stay away from The Heights from now on. We don’t want some keen young reporter spotting you going in or coming out of Brierley House.’
Banks shrugged.
‘Let me and the press office handle all media requests to do with the Miller case in future.’
‘No problem,’ said Banks. He hated dealing with the media, anyway.
‘Surely you’ve got other promising lines of inquiry to pursue?’ Gervaise added. ‘I’ve read all the statements and reports that have come in. I’m up to speed. What about that drug dealer Miller got kicked out of Eastvale College? Kyle McClusky. He sounds like a nasty piece of work. Or the girls who accused Miller of sexual harassment? Or Lisa Gray, another drug dealer? Who’s working on all that?’
‘DS Jackman, mostly, ma’am, and DI Cabbot and DCs Masterson and Watson. We also have some of the local Coverton officers helping out. As you know, we’re short staffed.’
‘You’d be able to manage perfectly well if you didn’t go around tilting at windmills,’ added McLaughlin.
Gervaise went on, reading from her copy of the file. ‘Then there’s a woman called Dayle Snider, who clearly had no time for Miller. There could be some sort of sexual angle involved. Not to mention his two lecturer colleagues, Trevor Lomax and Jim Cooper. There could be something there, too, going back to his dismissal. Yet you choose to spend your time sniffing around one of Eastvale’s most prominent citizens who just happened to go to the same university as the victim forty years ago.’
‘Is that what it is, Alan?’ said McLaughlin. ‘That working-class chip on your shoulder again? Can’t you accept that anyone who comes from a background of wealth and privilege can be any good? Do they always have to be crooks and liars? Is that what it’s all about?’
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