‘It’s possible. How will that help us?’
‘If Veronica Bellamy lived in a student residence, which it appears she did, then I can also check Gavin Miller and see if he was in the same building, or nearby, for a start. Then I can find out who else was living there and get in touch with them to see if they remember anything and are willing to talk about it. A neighbour might remember more about her than someone who merely went to lectures with her. Same with the Marxist Society, if there still is one, and if its members don’t see giving out any information to the police as consorting with the capitalist oppressors. But the written records won’t tell us much. They’re just the bare bones. The real story has to come from people who knew Ronnie Bellamy or Gavin Miller, preferably their friends. It’s all a matter of memory. We need to find someone who can place Veronica and Miller together back then in one way or another.’
‘Can you do all this on the quiet?’
‘I can do my best, sir, as long as the AC doesn’t come poking around in the squad room. I think DI Cabbot and DS Jackman are going to be out of the office questioning people most of the day.’
‘OK,’ said Banks, finishing off his teacake. ‘Do your best, and keep your head down. I’ll be out all day, but get in touch if you find out anything interesting.’
‘What do you want this time?’ asked Dayle Snider, when she opened her front door to Annie and Winsome later that morning. ‘It’s supposed to be my day off.’
‘So they told us at the centre,’ said Annie. ‘Mind if we come in?’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘There’s always a choice,’ said Annie, following her into the hall.
Dayle was wearing a close-fitting tracksuit with a white stripe down the trouser legs and trainers with blue markings. Her brow seemed a little clammy, as if she had been working out. Almost as if she had intuited Annie’s line of thought, she said, ‘Yes, you did disturb me, actually. I was on the treadmill.’
‘Never understood the point of those things,’ said Annie. ‘Not when you’ve got such beautiful countryside all around you, in all directions.’
‘Have you checked the weather lately, Detective Inspector Cabbot?’
‘It’s a fine morning for a long walk.’
‘For once.’ She led them into a bright, compact kitchen that looked over the dale to the west, its steeply rising valley sides criss-crossed with drystone walls, slopes deep green from the summer’s rains rising to rocky outcrops and long scars of limestone, silver-grey in the pale November sun. The Leaview Estate, at the bottom of King Street, south-west of the town centre, had been built just after the war, and was starting to show it a little around the edges. Nonetheless, its elegant mix of Georgian semis, terraces and detached houses, built of limestone and gritstone, in harmony with much of the rest of Eastvale, was still one of the most desirable middle-class residential areas in town. All the streets were named after flowers, and Dayle Snider lived on Laburnum Close. The neighbourhood was certainly posh enough that it was attractive to burglars, but the police patrolled regularly and discreetly, and didn’t consign it to the same rubbish heap as they had the East Side Estate on the other side of town, where PCSOs often feared to tread, and crime reduction teams spent their time telling parents how to lock their doors properly while their children were out burgling houses down the street.
‘I suppose you’d like some tea?’ Dayle asked.
‘That would be nice,’ said Annie.
Winsome nodded. ‘Me, too, please.’
Dayle made a show of reluctantly filling the kettle and plugging it in, then emptying the teapot and searching for another teabag. Yorkshire Gold, Annie noticed. Her favourite. Dayle leaned against the counter while the kettle came to a boil. The tracksuit flattered her figure, Annie thought, showing her firm thighs and flat stomach to advantage. It made her realise that she needed to step up her exercise regime herself, if she hoped to get beyond all the aches and pains of her residual injuries, and lose those few pounds she had gained over the past year or so. It was matter of striking a balance between rest and exercise, and she hadn’t quite got it right yet.
While the tea was brewing, Dayle got down three bright yellow mugs from the cupboard over the counter area and set them in a row, a little jug of milk and bowl of sugar next to them. Annie and Winsome sat at the breakfast table by the window, gazing out at the view, Annie wondering whether the massing of grey clouds in the far west meant more rain later. If their silence made Dayle nervous, she wasn’t showing it.
‘OK, so what is it this time?’ Dayle said as she delivered the mugs of tea and took her seat at the table.
‘It’s really just a little point you might be able to help us clear up,’ said Annie.
Dayle blew on the surface of her tea. ‘I’ll do my best.’
‘You’re a friend of Sally Lomax’s, right?’
‘Yes. We work together.’
‘How close are you?’
‘Sally’s a very good friend. I mean, we socialise outside work, go for a drink now and then, and so on, as friends do.’
‘And she brought you together with Gavin Miller for dinner at her house. Am I right?’
‘Yes. But you already know that.’
‘And though you and Miller got on OK for a while, the relationship didn’t take?’
‘No.’
‘So you ditched him.’
‘What is this? I’ve already told you all about that.’
‘Please bear with us, Dayle.’
Dayle frowned. Whether it was at the use of her first name or at being asked to bear with them, Annie wasn’t certain.
‘Now, around the time Gavin Miller had been accused of sexual misconduct, he came to see you here, drunk, you said, and started to pour out his feelings of being an innocent person victimised and demonised.’
‘Right.’
‘But you didn’t believe him.’
‘There’s no smoke without fire.’
‘And you also had first-hand examples of his awkward sexuality, and his apparent inability to handle normal relationships.’
‘You could say that.’
Annie sipped some tea. It was a bit weak. She liked to use two teabags steeped in the pot for seven minutes. A blackbird perched on the wall at the back and sang. Such a beautiful song for such a common and underappreciated bird, she thought. ‘In fact, you considered it quite believable that he might try to bully or blackmail some poor defenceless young student into having sex with him.’
Dayle paused. ‘Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that, but it certainly wouldn’t have surprised me, no.’
‘Did Gavin Miller know you felt that way about him?’
‘Of course not. Why would I tell him that?’
‘Even when he came to see you?’
‘No. I tried to listen patiently. I made all the right noises and got rid of him as quickly as I could.’
‘He wasn’t angry with you?’
‘He had no reason to be.’
‘And you never saw him again?’
‘No.’
Winsome turned a page in her notebook and Dayle glanced over at her. ‘What’s this all about? Would you please get to the point.’
Winsome glanced at Annie, who went on, ‘Did you have a conversation, or a series of conversations, with Sally Lomax several weeks after Gavin Miller came to see you?’
‘I’ve had many conversations with Sally. I told you. We’re friends.’
‘Yes, but this one was specifically to do with Gavin Miller and his problems. Someone had been to see Trevor Lomax at the college. Someone who told him that she had overheard the two girls who accused Gavin Miller talking in the ladies’, and that they had admitted they set him up. Do you remember that?’
Dayle averted her eyes. ‘Vaguely. Why? What does it matter now?’
‘Did Sally Lomax seek your opinion on the subject?’
‘She may have done. We often discussed things. It’s what friends do.’
&nb
sp; ‘Personal things?’
‘All sort of things.’
‘Did she tell you that her husband was in a bit of a quandary? He was a friend of Gavin Miller’s, and he wanted to help him, but he didn’t trust the girl who came to see him with the information, and he thought she might be making the whole thing up.’
‘That’s more or less what Sally said, yes.’
‘And that it was also too late to do anything, anyway, and that trying to do something might cause a hell of a stink and drag the college into some nasty publicity, something they had managed to avoid thus far?’
‘She may have mentioned that. Sally is very committed to Trevor’s career.’
‘Is Trevor ambitious?’
‘I suppose you could say he is.’
‘And Sally?’
Dayle thought for a moment, cradling her mug. ‘She likes her job, but I wouldn’t say she was ambitious. She’s more than happy to follow along behind Trevor’s coat-tails, be the belle of the department Christmas party. Sally’s a very attractive woman.’
‘So her ambitions are for her husband?’
‘Sally’s no Lady Macbeth.’
‘Sorry, that’s not what I meant. Interesting point, though. Look at all the bodies in that play.’
‘Are you suggesting that Gavin’s murder four years later has anything to do with some misguided plot of Trevor’s to take power?’
‘Not at all. How could it have? Gavin Miller had no power. Trevor Lomax was his boss. Besides, what would be the next step for him? Dean? Vice chancellor? I don’t know much about the college hierarchy.’
‘Clearly. Then …?’
‘Well, whatever it is, he hasn’t got there. He’s in exactly the same position as he was four years ago. Department head. What I’m asking is what you advised Sally Lomax to tell him.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘A woman whose ambitions are mostly for her husband’s success tends to have a great deal more power and influence over him than we’d imagine. She has to, in order to manoeuvre him into making the right decisions, the ones that benefit his career, and therefore her, the most.’
‘This is all a bit too Machiavellian for me.’
‘Did Sally seek your advice?’
‘She asked me what I thought about it all, yes.’
‘And what did you tell her?’
‘That Gavin probably put the girl up to it, making up some story about overhearing them.’
‘Would it surprise you to hear that Gavin had never heard anything about the matter, or at least so we believe? That it never went any further than Trevor Lomax’s office.’
‘I can’t say as I’ve ever really given it much thought.’
‘You should,’ Annie said. ‘You see, based on your experience with Gavin, you told Sally to ignore what the girl said, that he’d most likely done it, and that no good would be served by trying to open another inquiry on the basis of one student’s say-so. That it would only cause problems for Trevor, and possibly harm his future career prospects. Am I at all close?’
Dayle’s lips drew tight, and her expression darkened a little. She put her mug down and folded her arms. ‘So what if I did? It’s true, isn’t it? No one ever comes out of these things smelling of roses.’
‘Well, Gavin Miller certainly didn’t.’
‘Gavin, Gavin, Gavin. I’m sick of hearing about poor bloody Gavin. Other people have worked hard for what they’ve got, you know. I don’t see why we should all waste our time helping some bloody loser to get reinstated for something he probably did anyway. Making him out to be some sort of victim we should all feel sorry for. Believe me, coercing a student was probably the only way Gavin Miller could have got laid.’
‘Except with you,’ said Annie. ‘And he’d already failed that test, hadn’t he? Did that make you feel angry and rejected, Dayle, that he didn’t fancy you enough to shag you? What did you do wrong? Come on a bit too strong with him? A touch of the Fifty Shades, was it? Bring out the whips and chains?’
Dayle stood up abruptly. ‘That’s it, you nasty little bitch. I’ve had enough. I let you into my home, and you sit there and insult me. I don’t have to listen to any more of this. You can get out now. Both of you. Go on. Get out!’
‘Oh, sit down, Dayle,’ said Annie. She could see that Winsome was on the verge of leaving but gestured for her to remain seated. ‘We’re not going anywhere until we’ve got what we want.’
‘I’ll make an official complaint to your boss.’
‘Go ahead. It wouldn’t be the first time.’
Slowly, Dayle subsided back into her chair like a deflating doll. ‘You can’t talk to me like that.’
‘Sorry,’ said Annie. ‘Really. It’s just that shock tactics sometimes get us where we want to go much faster than being nice. Saves a lot of time.’
‘And where is it you want to go?’
‘I want to establish that when someone went to tell Trevor Lomax what she had overheard in the ladies’, Lomax was close to believing her and close to trying to find some way of exonerating Gavin Miller. But that you persuaded Sally Lomax that Miller was not worth putting her husband’s career on the line for, and that Miller probably did what he was accused of, anyway.’
‘OK, so that’s what I thought. That’s what I said. What of it? I’m entitled to my opinion, aren’t I?’
‘And Sally Lomax, fortified with your agreement to what she was already inclined towards thinking herself, managed to persuade her husband to do nothing.’
‘Most likely. But what does it matter now?’
The blackbird had stopped singing and moved on, Annie noticed. The rain clouds had moved closer, and their shadows were hastening over the green valley sides. ‘Well, it only matters,’ she said slowly, ‘if Gavin Miller somehow found out about it all a couple of weeks ago.’
The silence stretched as Dayle took in the implications of Annie’s statement and worked out what they meant. Annie could watch the process in her expression, the shadows flitting across her features like the clouds over the hills. ‘Are you saying you think this is why he was murdered?’ she said finally.
‘I’m saying it’s a possibility. Think about it, Dayle. Four years ago you manage to help talk a man’s friend out of possibly saving that man’s career, or at least his name. I’d say there could be enough anger and recrimination in all that to supply a pretty strong motive, wouldn’t you? Perhaps even blackmail was involved. We don’t know. But say Gavin Miller did find out that you were instrumental in Lomax’s decision not to help, and that he blamed you just as much as, if not more than, Lomax himself.’
‘But that’s ridiculous. That would make him want to murder me. He was the one who got killed.’
‘Maybe he arranged to meet you on the bridge. Maybe he’d asked you for money, and maybe he did intend to kill you, but when things got out of hand, and you lost your temper first, you got the better of him, chucked him over the bridge. He was pretty skinny and weak. Malnutrition will do that. You’re strong enough to have lifted him over the edge. But it could have been self-defence. Manslaughter at the most. Probably was.’
Dayle stood up again and her chair fell over. ‘Right. That’s it. No more messing about.’ She pointed towards the door. ‘Out! Both of you. And don’t come back. If you do, I promise you I’ll have my solicitor here before you can even sit down.’
‘We’d better make sure it’s not a Friday afternoon, hadn’t we then, Winsome?’ Annie said, standing to leave. ‘Odds are he won’t appreciate being called off the golf course. TTFN.’
Banks had arranged his chat with Kyle McClusky for late Monday afternoon, after which he was having dinner with Ken Blackstone in Leeds. Before that, he had other plans, about which he had told no one. He knew that he had been warned off Lady Chalmers and her family, but Oriana Serroni wasn’t exactly a family member. Technically, of course, he would be on the carpet again if anyone found he had talked to her, so he was depending very much on her discret
ion, as well as her concern for her mistress. Of course, it might all blow up in his face, but nothing happened if you just sat on your arse and waited for it. Sometimes you had to stir things up, make things happen.
He found the care home outside Malton easily enough. It was a grand old mansion converted into individual suites. Expensive, no doubt, but with her connections, Oriana could afford it. The dull weather that had started on the weekend seemed to have settled in, Banks thought as he parked across the street and read the morning paper while he waited. At least the rain had stopped, and the temperature was comfortably into double figures.
He had waited a little more than an hour, and was struggling to finish the crossword, when Oriana walked out, bade farewell to a white-uniformed nurse and headed towards her cream Mini. Quickly, Banks stepped out of his Porsche and headed over the street. He got to her before she could open the door, and said simply, ‘Oriana. I wonder if we could talk?’
A range of emotions seemed to cross her face in quick succession, most of them negative. Finally, she seemed confused and uncertain how to respond, then her whole body seemed to relax, and she nodded. ‘You’re checking up on me, are you? Very well. But I’ll talk to you for her, not for you. And I’ll divulge no family secrets.’
‘Understood,’ said Banks. ‘Can I buy you lunch?’
Oriana managed a little smile. ‘There’s a nice pub about two miles away,’ she said. ‘Follow me.’
She drove fast, and Banks wondered whether she was trying to lose him or just impress him. Two miles of winding road later, she turned into a pub car park, and Banks followed her.
The dining area was fairly full, and they raised a few eyebrows walking in, the young exotic beauty and the slightly greying detective. They found a table by the window and sat. Banks had to credit Oriana with good taste. It wasn’t a chain pub, the tables had no little brass plates with numbers on them or oversized laminated menus stuck between the salt and pepper and the ketchup bottle. This was a class place. In moments, a waiter was at their side with tasteful menus bound in imitation leather, printed in italics. Banks had to take out his cheap Boots glasses to read it. Oriana didn’t. Her big brown eyes were just fine by themselves. Banks examined her surreptitiously as they both made their decisions. He wondered if she had ever worked as a model, or on stage; she certainly had the carriage and the figure for it, and she dressed well, even casually: soft kid leather jacket, simple white top, jeans. Her hair hung dark and straight, its natural lustre catching the light when she moved. As she concentrated on the menu she nipped her lower lip between her teeth.
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