drinks.
‘I’ll have a Scotch, please,’ Banks said.
‘Sergeant Hatchley?’
‘Don’t mind if I do, sir.’ Hatchley glanced towards Banks, who nodded his permission. After all, he had spoiled the sergeant’s weekend. Hatchley took out his notebook and settled in a corner with his drink.
‘What can I do for you this time?’ Stephen asked. ‘Do you want to see my brother, too?’
‘Not at the moment,’ Banks said. ‘I want to talk to you about Anne Ralston.’
Collier frowned. ‘Anne Ralston? What about her? That was years ago.’
‘I’d like to know what happened.’
‘Aren’t I entitled to know why?’
‘Will you just bear with me for a while?’
‘Very well.’
‘As far as I know,’ Banks began, ‘she disappeared the day after the private detective, Raymond Addison, was killed. Am I right?’
‘I wouldn’t know when he was killed,’ Stephen said. ‘Though I do remember Superintendent Gristhorpe saying something about a post-mortem report.’
‘But it was around that time she disappeared?’
‘Yes.’
‘And she was an employee of Collier Foods?’
‘Yes. Your superintendent already knows all this. Please get to the point, Chief Inspector.’ He tapped the book on his lap. ‘I have an important report to study for a meeting in the morning.’
‘I won’t keep you long, sir,’ Banks said, ‘if you’ll just answer my questions. Were you going out with Anne Ralston at the time of her disappearance?’
‘Yes. You know I was. But I don’t see-’
Banks held up his hand. ‘Let me finish, please. Can you think of any reason why she should disappear?’
‘None.’
‘What do you think happened to her?’
Collier walked over to the cocktail cabinet and refilled his glass. He offered Banks and Hatchley cigarettes from a box on the glass-topped coffee table.
‘I thought she might have gone off to see the world,’ he answered. ‘It was something she’d often talked about.’
‘Didn’t it worry you?’
‘Didn’t what worry me?’
‘Her disappearance.’
‘I must admit, in some of my darker moments I thought something might have happened to her - a wandering psychopath or something - especially with the Addison business. But I decided it wasn’t so out of character for Anne to just up and go.’
‘Weren’t you bothered that she never got in touch with you? Or did she?’
Collier smiled. ‘No, Chief Inspector, she didn’t. And, yes, it was a bit of a blow to the ego at first. But I got used to it. It wasn’t as if we were engaged or living together.’
‘I noticed you mentioned a moment ago that you linked her disappearance with the Addison killing - a wandering psychopath. Did it occur to you to link the two events in any other way?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Could Anne Ralston have had something to do with Addison’s visit to Swainshead? He was a private detective, after all.’
‘Yes, I know. But nobody here had any idea why he was in the area. If it was anything to do with Anne, she certainly kept quiet about it. Maybe he was just on holiday. I’m sure private eyes have holidays too.’
‘Would she have been likely to tell you?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t imagine she told me everything about her life. Ours was a casual relationship. I’d never have expected her to bare her soul.’
‘Are you sure it wasn’t more serious on her part?’
‘Not at all. She’d been around.’
‘And you?’
Stephen smiled. ‘I wasn’t new to the wily ways of the fair sex, no. Another drink?’
Hatchley passed his empty glass and Banks nodded. He lit a Silk Cut and looked out on to the lawn. Two sparrows were taking a bath in the fountain. There was plenty of room, but each defended its territory with an angry flapping of wings, splashing water all over the place. A shadow fell over the patio and Nicholas Collier popped his head round the French windows.
‘Hello,’ he said, stepping into the room. ‘I thought I heard voices.’
‘If you don’t mind, sir…’ Sergeant Hatchley stood up and blocked the entrance, a task for which he might have been specially designed.
Nicholas tilted his head back and looked down his long nose at Hatchley. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’m just having a little chat with your brother,’ Banks said. ‘You’re perfectly at liberty to stay, but I’d be obliged if you’d refrain from interrupting.’
Nicholas raised his black eyebrows. He seemed to have forgotten his sulking, but he clearly wasn’t used to being told what to do. For a moment, anger flashed in his eyes, then he simply nodded and sat by the windows.
‘Look,’ Stephen said, frowning at his brother and coming back with the drinks. ‘Where on earth is all this leading? Anne Ralston is history now. I haven’t seen or heard from her in five years. Quite frankly, it was embarrassing enough at the time having our relationship, such as it was, plastered all over the local papers.
I wouldn’t like to relive that.’
‘You mean you didn’t know?’ Banks said, sipping his Scotch.
‘Didn’t know what?’
‘About Anne Ralston.’
‘Look here. If this is some kind of a game…’
Did he or didn’t he? Banks couldn’t be sure. Sam Greenock would know the answer to that - when he got home, and if he could be persuaded to talk.
‘Anne’s turned up again.’
‘But… where?’
‘Bernard Allen knew where she was. He told the Greenocks. Surely Sam told you?’
‘No. No, I’d no idea. How is she? What happened?’
‘I don’t know all the details,’ Banks said. ‘Just that she’s alive and well and living in Canada. Are you sure nobody told you?’
‘I’ve already said so, haven’t I? This is a complete surprise to me. Though I was sure she’d turn up somewhere, some day.’ He went over and poured himself another drink; his hand was shaking. Banks glanced sideways at Nicholas, who sat impassively in his chair. There was no way of telling what he knew or didn’t know.
Banks and Hatchley finished their drinks and stood up.
‘I’m sorry it came as such a shock, Mr Collier,’ Banks said. ‘I just thought you ought to know.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Stephen said. ‘I’m very grateful to you. If you do hear anything else…’
‘We’ll let you know.’
‘There is just one thing,’ Stephen said, standing in the doorway. ‘What has this to do with Bernard Allen’s death? Do you see any connection?’
‘I don’t know, Mr Collier,’ Banks said. ‘I really don’t know. It does seem like a bit of a coincidence though - Anne disappearing the day after Addison’s killing, then turning up again, so to speak, around the time of Allen’s murder. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it?’
And they walked back over the bridge, where the three men stood like shadows in the soft light. On impulse, Banks sent Hatchley on ahead and stopped.
‘Do you remember Anne Ralston?’ he asked the gnarled spokesman.
As was his custom, the man spat in the fledgling River Swain before answering. ‘Aye. Allus in and out o’
there.’ He nodded over at the Collier house.
‘Have you seen her at all over the last few years?’
‘Nay. She flitted.’
‘And she hasn’t been back?’
He shook his head.
‘Have you seen either Mr or Mrs Greenock go over to the Collier house this afternoon?’
‘Aye,’ the man said. ‘Sam Greenock went over about three o’clock.’
‘To see Stephen or Nicholas?’
‘It were Mr Stephen’s door he knocked on.’
‘And did Stephen Collier answer it?’
The man scowled. ‘Aye, course he did.’
‘How long was Mr Greenock in there?’
‘Baht ten minutes.’
‘Thank you,’ Banks said, heading for the guest house. ‘Thank you very much.’
He heard his reluctant informant hack into the beck again, then the murmur of their voices rose up behind him.
THREE
Katie Greenock hurried away when she saw Banks coming, but he couldn’t help noticing that she moved with some difficulty.
‘Katie!’ he called, hurrying down the hall after her and grasping her elbow.
She spun round and faced him, one hand over her stomach. Her face was white and tense with suppressed pain. ‘What do you want?’ she asked angrily. ‘Haven’t you caused enough trouble?’
‘There’ll be a lot more before this business is over, Katie. I’m sorry, but there it is. You’ll just have to learn to face the world. Anyway, that’s not why I called you. What’s wrong? You look ill.’
‘Nothing’s wrong.’
‘You’re white as a ghost. And what’s wrong with your stomach? Does it ache?’
‘What do you care?’ she asked, breaking away.
‘Is it Sam? Has he hurt you?’
‘I don’t know what you mean. I’ve got a tummy ache, that’s all.’
‘Did you tell Sam you’d told me about Anne?’
‘I had to, didn’t I? He knew there was something wrong. I’m not good at hiding things.’
‘And what did he do, beat it out of you?’
‘I told you, I’ve just got a tummy ache. Leave me alone, I feel sick.’
‘Where is he?’
