Children of the Revolution

by Peter Robinson

  ‘But you couldn’t even make a wild guess at what it is?’

  ‘No. I do know that she can’t have harmed anyone. Ronnie is a kind and gentle person. She wouldn’t hurt a soul.’

  ‘In what way was she distracted? Would you say she was anxious, sad, angry, or upset?’

  Oriana considered this for a moment, then said, ‘Mostly depressed and worried, I would say. Perhaps anxious, also. It’s as if she has a great weight on her mind. Not angry or sad or upset or anything.’

  ‘Guilt?’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘But you’ve no idea what she’s depressed or worried about?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘And she was like this even before Gavin Miller was murdered?’

  ‘Yes. All week since the phone call.’

  ‘And after the murder?’

  ‘The same, perhaps even more so after you came.’

  ‘OK,’ said Banks. ‘Thank you for being so frank.’

  ‘I’m not saying all this for you,’ she said. ‘I’m telling you for her sake. For Ronnie’s sake. Because I’m worried about her. And because I know she could never have hurt that man. It’s true that we were all at home that night. I made dinner, and we watched a movie the way we usually do on Sunday nights, exactly as she told you. She was here all the time. All three of us were.’

  ‘I understand.’

  Oriana sat back in her chair and finished her espresso. ‘Now I must go,’ she said. ‘Thank you for a nice lunch.’

  Banks made a motion to the waiter, who brought over the bill. He seemed to be smirking as he ran Banks’s credit card through his machine, as if he had decided they were lovers on their way to some hotel bed for a bit of afternoon delight. ‘What’s your problem?’ Banks said, glancing up at him. ‘Can’t an uncle treat his niece to lunch once in a while?’

  The waiter blushed, Oriana could hardly hold back her laughter, and Banks felt rather pleased with himself.

  9

  Banks had always hated prisons. Come to think of it, he realised, he wasn’t alone in that. Everybody hated prisons. The people who worked in them probably got used to them, and the prisoners had no choice, but to the casual and occasional visitor, they were sordid and cruel places where bad things happened. Men got raped by other men, or stabbed by filed-down toothbrushes in the showers. Over his years in the force, Banks had helped put plenty of people away, but it wasn’t something he ever got used to, and he tried not to think of their lives after they had been sentenced. His job usually ended with giving evidence in court, then it was up to the judge and jury. He also realised that the odds were he might have helped convict more than one innocent person, too, but those thoughts were reserved for waking at 4.24 in the morning and being unable to get back to sleep. Mostly he lived with it, grateful only that there was no longer capital punishment, and that he had no deaths on his conscience. Misery aplenty, certainly, probably some blood, too, if truth be told, but not death. Grateful also that when he saw the inside of a prison it was as a visitor.

  Armley Jail, built in 1847 of dark millstone grit, resembled the medieval castle of some evil dark lord. No doubt it had been built that way on purpose. The Victorians had very strict and religious ideas about punishment. Since then, a couple of blockish red brick wings had been added, rather like Lego buildings, which broke up the facade somewhat, but they didn’t really take much away from the overall image.

  Formalities done, mobile left at the reception area, Banks followed Tim Grainger, whom he had met before, inside across the cobbled yard of the old section. He knew from previous visits that just ahead to the right, up on the first floor, there used to be an apartment where the hangman, as often as not Pierrepoint, spent the night before an execution. From his window, he was able to see across the courtyard to the execution shed below. That was an office now, as was the flat, but the old condemned cell was still there, with its small bunk and scratches on the dank wall, just down some steps next to the grate in the floor where they used to sluice off the bodies after they had hung for an hour to ensure death. Banks had been there once with Grainger, and he still had nightmares about it. But that barbarism was done with now, at least in Britain, though it had been done away with in practice only a few years before Banks had started on the force.

  They went inside. Perhaps the thing Banks noticed most, and hated most, about jails was the constant sound of the locking and unlocking of doors. There seemed so many of them, and they all seemed so heavy that the place constantly resounded with the echoes of banging doors, jangling keys and tumbling locks. He found himself forever stopping while Tim inserted yet another large key, and then waiting while he very carefully made sure he locked up again behind him after they had passed through. Various warders said hello as they crossed the office area towards the cells. Most prisons had been built on the same model, an X shape, so that guards could stand at the centre and see all the way down every wing. When Banks and Grainger passed the hub, it was methadone time on one of the wings, and the queue of prisoners stretched down the corridor.

  Tim had arranged for Banks to conduct the interview in his own office, rather than a cell, as Kyle McClusky wasn’t considered a dangerous prisoner, or any kind of flight risk. They were also served with coffee and chocolate biscuits before McClusky was brought up. Once Banks and McClusky were settled, Tim left them to it. There was, of course, a guard on the door, just in case. Banks poured McClusky some coffee, added milk and sugar and waited for him to settle down. He seemed nervous, but not too jittery. One leg was jumping, and he bit his nails, but that was all. He seemed healthy enough, though there was nothing he could do about that prison pallor. His hair was cut short, and his face was bony. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days.

  ‘OK,’ said Banks. ‘We might as well start. Any idea what this is about, Kyle?’

  ‘They didn’t tell me. They don’t tell you anything in here. Do you think you can get me a reduction in my sentence if I talk to you?’

  ‘Come on, Kyle. You know I would if I could, but you only got six months, and you’ve served nearly three already. You’ll be out in weeks, maybe days the way things are going these days.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. But every little bit helps, man. I mean, you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. You know, like, if I talk to you, what’s in it for me?’

  The back-scratching image repelled Banks, but he had given some thought to what might be in it for Kyle. The question hadn’t been entirely unexpected. ‘I was rather hoping that you’d want to talk to me, anyway, Kyle. You see, Beth and Kayleigh are in a bit of trouble, and you might be able to help them out.’

  ‘Those bitches! I wouldn’t cross the road to piss on them if they were on fire. It’s fucking Beth’s fault I’m in here in the first place.’

  ‘How do you work that out?’

  ‘She wouldn’t help me, right? Too fucking high and mighty, now she’s got an important job in telly, and a nice new flat and that poncy boyfriend. Too good for the likes of me.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I was down on my luck, wasn’t I? I needed a place to crash, a little cash, you know, just to get back on my feet. I went round to her flat. She sent me packing. Wouldn’t even let me in the front door. Talk about helping an old friend. So don’t talk to me about that bitch.’

  This was, in a way, even better than Banks had hoped. Beth certainly hadn’t told Winsome and Gerry about this. He had needed a way to get McClusky talking about what Lisa Gray had said Beth and Kayleigh had done, without having anything on the table to offer him. The chance to help Beth and Kayleigh had been his opening gambit, but now that he knew Kyle hated Beth so much, he could use that to even better advantage, and probably get him to tell the truth about what happened at Eastvale College, as long as it reflected badly on the girls. But he would have to be careful: drug dealers and users lied.

  ‘That is a bit mean,’ he said sympathetically. ‘I can see where you’re coming from. But she didn’t tel
l us about that.’

  ‘She wouldn’t, would she? But it’s true.’

  ‘I’m sure it is. Do you remember her friend, Kayleigh Vernon?’

  ‘She’s just as bad. You’d think, you know, after all the freebies I gave her, that she might lend me a little of the readies when I was in need.’

  ‘You went to her, too?’

  ‘I was running out of options.’

  ‘But she didn’t help?’

  ‘No way. Same story as the other one. I’m all right, Jack, fuck you. They think they’re better than me, but they’re nothing but a pair of lying bitches.’

  ‘Why’s that, Kyle?’

  Kyle seemed to need a break from his anger. There was a dribble of spittle on his chin, and he wiped it with the back of his hand. He rubbed his face, drank some coffee, scratched his crotch and slumped back in his chair. His attention appeared to have wandered, as if he had lost track of the conversation. Banks wondered if he had just taken his methadone. ‘Man, I don’t know.’

  ‘You said they were lying bitches. You must have had a reason for saying that.’

  ‘I don’t remember.’

  ‘Come on, Kyle. It was only four years ago. Eastvale College. Do you remember Gavin Miller?’

  ‘That the teacher who kicked me out?’

  ‘That’s the one.’

  ‘Ruined my future, man. I was going places.’

  ‘What were you doing?’

  Kyle just gave him a sideways glance. ‘Nothing, man. I wasn’t doing nothing. Just minding my own business.’

  ‘What did he think you were doing?’

  ‘Some dumb cunt must have told him I was dealing drugs. I mean, all I did was help a few people out from time to time. You know people who needed stuff. It was just fun, man.’

  ‘Like roofies or methamphetamine?’

  ‘Whatever.’

  ‘Was it Beth or Kayleigh who told on you?’

  ‘No. They were too into it. They were then, like, before they got all successful. Not the roofies, just the speed and spliffs. Probably snort coke through fifty-quid notes these days, or lick it off the end of some banker’s dick.’ He seemed to like that image, and it set off a fit of laughter that ended in coughing. Banks gave him a few moments to recover.

  ‘Why do you say someone must have told Gavin Miller that you were selling drugs?’

  Again, Kyle seemed to have lost the thread. ‘I can’t remember, man. It’s a long time ago. It was just something he said. I remember thinking, like, this is down to some dumb cunt who got slipped a roofie and got fucked. This was, like, her revenge.’

  ‘But you don’t know who?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Did you ever wonder about the girls who were given the Rohypnol, Kyle, about what happened to them?’

  ‘Nah, not really. Never thought much about it. Why?’ He scratched himself again.

  ‘No reason. Why didn’t any of them come forward?’

  ‘They probably enjoyed it. I mean, it’s what they want, isn’t it, man? Even if they don’t admit it. Either that or they didn’t remember.’

  ‘But someone must have remembered something.’

  ‘So it seems. Who cares?’

  ‘Do you think it was a girl who’d been raped getting her own back on the person who sold her rapist the drug?’

  ‘Could be. I don’t know.’

  ‘Why not take her revenge on the person who raped her?’

  ‘How should I know? Maybe she did, and you don’t know about it. Maybe she already cut his balls off, and he’s lying dead in a ditch somewhere. Didn’t think about that, did you?’

  Well, well, Banks thought. Maybe Kyle had a point there. It was another avenue worth investigating. Not the castration so much as someone else hurt, killed or hospitalised around that time. If the person who had administered the drug had been punished already by his victim, there might be good reasons why the rapist hadn’t wanted the sordid incident to be public knowledge. And if the girl who had been raped remembered who did it, she might well have worked out some sort of private revenge on her assailant that wouldn’t be attributable to her. Shame and guilt were normal reactions to being drugged and raped, no matter how much you tried to tell the victims it wasn’t their fault. And she had used Miller as a tool to get revenge on Kyle, the dealer. Unless …

  ‘Was it you, Kyle?’ Banks asked.

  ‘Was what me?’

  ‘Did you use the Rohypnol on someone yourself?’

  ‘Why would I do that, man? I didn’t need no Rohypnol.’

  Banks filed the possibility away and moved on. ‘Do you remember later, after you’d left Eastvale, Gavin Miller was sacked for sexual misconduct? Both Beth and Kayleigh said he touched them and made inappropriate suggestions.’

  ‘I remember. I was still crashing at Kayleigh’s place off and on back then. It was that motherfucker Miller, the one who got me kicked out.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘So justice was done after all.’

  ‘Well, Gavin Miller lost his job and a good deal else.’

  ‘Like I said. Justice.’

  ‘He was murdered last week, Kyle.’

  ‘Miller?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Well, fuck me. Who did it?’

  ‘That’s what we’re trying to find out.’

  Kyle looked around, over his shoulder. ‘There are murderers in here, man. You have to be careful. Know what I mean?’

  Banks nodded. ‘Do you know who might have wanted to harm Gavin Miller?’

  ‘Well, I didn’t do it. I was in here.’

  ‘Did you ever see Gavin Miller after then? Say in the past year or so?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Maybe he wanted to buy drugs from you? Maybe he wanted to go into business?’

  ‘Miller? You must be joking, man. No, I never seen him since that day in his office he put it on the line.’

  ‘Do you think Beth or Kayleigh might be lying about not having seen him?’

  ‘How do I know? I can’t see why they would lie about it, though, if that’s what they said.’ Kyle paused, clearly thinking about the way the two girls had let him down in his hour of need. ‘You know what? I’m gonna tell you something about those bitches. You ready?’

  ‘I’m ready,’ said Banks.

  ‘After Miller told me to stop doing what I was doing or leave town, I don’t know how long after, but we were sitting around in Kayleigh’s flat getting high and—’

  ‘Who was sitting around?’

  ‘Us. Beth, Kayleigh and me.’

  ‘Right. And what happened?’

  ‘We were talking, like, you know, about what happened, and about what a nerve that guy had and all that. And they were, like, saying how he was always staring at their tits and their arses all the time, like some perv. I mean, that’s wrong, man. Like, a teacher shouldn’t do stuff like that.’

  ‘It’s not very professional.’

  ‘That’s the word. Unprofessional. Not that you can blame him. I mean, Kayleigh had a lovely arse, and Beth’s tits … juicy, man, know what I mean?’

  ‘So you were sitting around, the three of you.’

  ‘Yeah, just, like, chillin’, listening to music, smoking some weed, and they were all like pissed off about this Miller telling me to leave or he’ll call the pigs and ogling their tits and just dying to cop a feel, so I just said, like, what if he did. They didn’t know what I meant at first, but I told them, you know, it wouldn’t be too hard if one of them sort of offered herself and then yelled rape. Wouldn’t be the first time, man.’

  ‘So you suggested that one of them should seduce Miller, have sex with him, and then cry rape?’

  ‘Was that a great plan, or was it not?’

  ‘What did they say?’

  ‘Well, we talked about it for a while, you know, had another spliff, and they said they thought that would be too much, like, neither of them wanted to actually fuck the guy. I could dig that. I mean, he was ol
d, man.’

  ‘So what did you decide?’

  ‘We talked about it some more, and then we came up with another idea, one where they wouldn’t have to get fucked by him.’

  ‘And that was?’

  ‘Exactly what happened. We decided the plan would work best if Kayleigh made a complaint that this Miller had, like, touched her, in his office or something, and come on to her and all, then Beth would come out and say, yeah, he’d done that to her, too, a while ago, but she hadn’t dared talk, but now Kayleigh’s courage had, like, powered her. It was great, man. That’s how much they cared about me then. Not like now.’

  ‘So that’s what they did?’

  ‘That’s what they did. And the fucker got booted out on his arse.’

  ‘And he never did anything to either of them.’

  ‘That’s the beauty of it. And they never had to fuck him. But he certainly ogled their arses and their tits, didn’t he? I mean, he would have fucked them if he’d had half a chance. Teachers shouldn’t do that, man. We were teaching him a lesson.’ He laughed at his own weak joke. Banks was amazed he got it, so fried by drugs did his brain seem.

  ‘So, first Kayleigh went to the college authorities with her story, then Beth put her hand up and said, “Me, too.” ’

  ‘That’s right. You got it.’

  ‘And where were you through all this?’

  ‘Gone. Hit the road. Couldn’t see me for dust.’

  ‘Did you follow the story?’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘To find out what happened to Miller, to Beth and Kayleigh.’

  ‘Nah. What’s the point? I had places to go, things to do.’

  ‘So you never looked back?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Jesus Christ.’ Banks shook his head slowly.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Banks said. ‘You wouldn’t understand. I’d like to thank you for your time, Kyle.’ Banks pressed the button beside the desk, as Tim Grainger had told him, and Grainger appeared a few seconds later, along with a warder. ‘Done?’ he said. ‘Everything all right?’

  ‘Everything’s fine,’ said Banks. ‘We’re done.’