Well, we all know about unemployment, don’t we? Bernard couldn’t find work in England, so he left. You could hardly say he was running from country to country to escape political tyranny, could you?’
‘He just used to whine about it, that’s all,’ Nicholas cut in. ‘Expected the government to do everything for him without him having to lift a finger. Typical socialist.’
‘As you can gather, Chief Inspector,’ Stephen said with a strained smile, ‘my brother’s something of a young fogey. That hardly gave either of us reason to do away with Bernard, though.’
‘Of course not,’ Banks said. ‘And I was never suggesting it did. I just want to know as much about the victim as possible. Would you say that there was any real animosity between you - political arguments aside - over the farm?’
‘Do you mean did he blame us?’ Stephen asked.
‘Yes.’
‘He blamed everyone but himself,’ Nicholas cut in.
Stephen turned on him. ‘Oh, shut up, Nicky. You’re being bloody awkward, you know.’
‘Did he?’ Banks asked Stephen again.
‘Not that I ever knew of. It was nothing to do with us, really. As you know, Father was preparing to give up farming anyway, and he certainly hadn’t groomed us to take over. Nobody kicked Archie Allen off the land. He could have stayed there as long as he wanted to. It just wasn’t financially viable any more. Ask any farmer; they’ll tell you how things have changed over the past twenty years or so. If Bernard was holding a grudge, then it was a very unreasonable one. He didn’t strike me as an unreasonable person.
Does that answer your question?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Banks said. He turned to Nicholas again. ‘I understand you knew Mr Allen’s sister, Esther.’
Nicholas reddened with anger. ‘Who said that?’
‘Never mind who said it. Is it true?’
‘We all knew her,’ Stephen said. ‘I mean, we knew who she was.’
‘More than that,’ Banks said, looking at Nicholas, whose eyes were flashing. ‘Nicholas knows what I mean, don’t you?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Nicholas said. ‘Are you trying to suggest that there was anything more to it than a landlord-tenant relationship?’
‘Was there?’
‘Of course not.’
‘Didn’t you find her attractive?’
‘She was hardly my type.’
‘Do you mean she was of a lower class?’
Nicholas bared his teeth in a particularly unpleasant smile. ‘If you want to put it that way, yes.’
‘And what about the servant girl? The one who used to work here.’
‘I insist you stop this at once, Chief Inspector,’ Stephen said. ‘I can’t see how it’s relevant. And I’m sure I don’t have to remind you that the deputy chief constable is a good friend of the family.’
‘I’m sure he is,’ Banks said. He wasn’t at all put out; in fact, he was enjoying their discomfort tremendously. ‘Just a couple of minor points, then we’ll be on our way. When was the last time you saw Bernard?’
Nicholas said nothing; he appeared to be sulking. Stephen paused for a moment and answered in a businesslike manner, ‘I’d say it was in the White Rose the evening before he left. Thursday. I remember talking to him about Tan Hill in Swaledale.’
‘Is that where he was heading?’
‘Not specifically, no, but it’s on the Pennine Way.’
‘Did he talk about the hanging valley at all, the place where his body was found?’
‘No, not that I remember.’
‘Did either of you see him set off from Swainshead?’
Both the Colliers shook their heads. ‘I’m usually at the office before nine,’ Stephen said. ‘And my brother would have been at Braughtmore.’
‘So you saw nothing of him after that Thursday evening in the White Rose?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Just one more thing: could you tell us where John Fletcher lives?’
‘John? He’s a couple of miles north of the village. It’s a big farmhouse on the eastern fell side. You can’t miss it; it’s the only one in sight.’
‘Fine, then.’ Banks nodded to Hatchley and they stood up to leave. Stephen Collier led them out and Nicholas followed, still sulking. As soon as the door closed, Banks could hear them start arguing.
Hatchley turned up his nose in disgust. ‘What a pair of wankers,’ he said.
‘Aptly put,’ said Banks. ‘But we did learn a few things.’
‘Like what?’
‘I never told them what time Allen left Swainshead, so why should Stephen Collier make a point of mentioning nine o’clock?’
‘Hmm,’ said Hatchley. ‘I suppose he could have just been assuming that Allen would leave after breakfast.
Or maybe it had been mentioned the night before?’
‘It’s possible,’ Banks said. ‘Come to that, Sam Greenock could have told them. Nicholas Collier seemed much more annoyed by my reference to Esther Haines than I thought he’d be. There could be much more to that than even she let on.’
‘I thought you were pushing it a bit there,’ Hatchley said. ‘I mean, the super did say to take it easy on them. They’re important.’
Banks sniffed. ‘The problem is, Sergeant, that it’s all arse backwards, isn’t it?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Let’s say Nicholas Collier might have been messing around with Allen’s little sister, or Allen might have been bitter over losing the farm and eventually having to leave England. That gives him a motive for murder, but he’s the one who ends up dead. Odd that, don’t you think?’
‘Aye, when you put it like that,’ Hatchley said.
‘Get on the radio and see if Richmond has turned up anything yet, will you? I want a word with these blokes here.’
Hatchley carried on to the car. Banks neared the bridge and steeled himself for the encounter with the old men. Three of them stood there silently, two leaning on walking sticks. No flicker of interest or concern showed on their weather-beaten faces when Banks approached them. He leaned against the warm stone and introduced himself, then asked if they had been out as early as nine o’clock a couple of weeks ago.
No one said a word at first, then one of them, a gnarled, misshapen man, turned to face Banks. With his flat cap and dark brown clothing, he looked like some strange plant with the power to uproot itself and walk among people.
He spat in the beck and said, ‘’Appen.’
‘Do you know Bernard Allen?’
‘Archie Allen’s lad? Aye, o’ course.’
‘Did you see him that morning?’
The man was silent for a moment; he screwed up his eyes and contemplated Adam’s Fell. Banks took out his cigarettes and offered them around. Only one of them, a man with a huge red nose, took one. He grinned toothlessly at Banks, carefully nipped off the filter and put the other end in his mouth.
‘Aye,’ the spokesman said finally.
‘Where did he come from?’
The man pointed towards the Greenock Guest House.
‘Did he stop anywhere on his way?’
The man shook his head.
‘Where did he go?’
‘Up there.’ The man pointed with his stick to the footpath up Swainshead Fell.
‘And that was the last you saw of him?’
‘Aye.’
‘What was he wearing?’
‘Nay, lad, I don’t remember that. ’E was carrying one o’ them there ’aversacks on ’is back, that’s all I recollect. P’raps ’e was wearing a shirt. I don’t remember no jacket.’
‘Did you notice anyone go after him?’
The man shook his head.
‘Could someone have followed him without you seeing?’
‘’Appen. There’s plenty o’ ways to get up t’ fell.’
‘We know he went to the hanging valley over the fell top,’ Banks said. ‘Are there many other ways to get there?’
‘A few. Tha can go from t’ main road, ’bout a mile past Rawley Force, and from further up t’ valley.’
‘How could anyone know where he was heading?’
‘That’s tha job, bobby, in’t it?’
He was right. Someone could easily have watched Allen set off up the side of Swainshead Fell and then gone up by another route to head him off somewhere out of sight. And Sam Greenock had said he wouldn’t have been surprised if Bernard had visited the hanging valley. Anyone else could have known that too, and gone up earlier to wait for him there.
Typically, as more information came to light the case was becoming more and more frustrating. Clearly it would be necessary to do a house-to-house in the village and ask the people with an eastern view if they had noticed anything that morning. It would also be useful to know if anyone had seen a car parked off the Helmthorpe road near the other access point. The trouble was that 17 May was so long ago most people would have forgotten.
And those were only the most obvious ways in. Someone could surely have approached the hanging valley from almost any direction and lain in wait overnight if necessary, especially if he knew Bernard Allen was bound to pass that way. The break, if it came, didn’t look likely to come from establishing opportunity -
just about everyone who had no alibi seemed to have had that - but from discovering a motive.
Banks thanked the old men and walked off to find Sergeant Hatchley.
6
