Down by the canal.”
“Okay,” said Annie. “Maybe I should drive down there now.”
“Won’t do you any good. She’s in London at the moment—meetings with said publisher. She’s heading back Saturday eve ning, though.”
“Fine,” said Annie. “I’d got nothing else planned for Sunday, anyway. I might as well go talk to her then. Thanks, Ginger. Great work.”
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“No problem.”
Annie turned off her phone and headed for the A1.
A N N I E R E M E M B E R E D where Eric lived, and it was after dark when she turned up at his f lat, having taken a while to pluck up her courage and stopped to fortify herself with a stiff double brandy at a pub on the way. She was on foot, so it didn’t matter whether she had a couple of drinks. Even though she had convinced herself that this would be easy, she still felt on edge. Confrontations with suspects were one thing, but in her private life they were another matter entirely. She knew that she had walked away from more than one relationship in the past rather than confront what was wrong with it. The problem with Banks was that she couldn’t quite walk away entirely; neither her job nor the remnants of her feelings for him, so easily stirred up by working so closely together, would let her. That was partly why she had accepted the temporary posting to Eastern Area so eagerly, to put some distance between them for a while. It didn’t seem to be working very well.
Eric answered her ring with a curt “Oh, it’s you,” then he turned his back and walked inside, leaving the door open. “I was just getting ready to go out,” he said, when she followed him into the living room. There was no evidence of this. A cigarette burned in the ashtray and a can of lager sat by a half-full glass on the low table. The TV
was on, tuned to
His hair was greasy, as if it needed a good wash, and a stray lock hung over one eye, as usual. “What do you want?” he asked.
Annie held her hand out. “Give me your mobile.”
“What?”
“You heard. Give me your mobile.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
Eric grinned. “Those photos? You want to delete them, don’t you?
You don’t trust me.”
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P E T E R R O B I N S O N
“That’s right. We’ll start with your mobile, then we’ll move on to your computer.”
“What do you think I’ll do? Post them on the Internet?” He rubbed his chin in mock conjecture. “I suppose I could, couldn’t I? Do you think they’ll accept nudes?”
“I don’t think you’re going to do anything with them,” Annie said.
“You’re going to give me your mobile, then we’re going to check your computer, and I’m going to delete them.”
“Look, why don’t you sit down and have a drink? I’m not in a great hurry. We can talk about it.”
“I don’t want a drink, and I’m not staying long enough to sit down,”
Annie said, holding her hand out. “There’s nothing to talk about.
Give.”
“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were making an obscene suggestion.”
“But you do, and I’m not. Come on.”
Eric folded his arms and stared at her defiantly. “No,” he said.
Annie sighed. She had thought he might want to play games. So be it. She sat down.
“So you will have that drink?” Eric said.
“I’ll sit down because this is clearly going to take longer than I expected,” Annie said, “but I still don’t want a drink. You know what I want.”
“I know what you wanted the other night,” said Eric. “But now I’m not so sure. There are some other pictures, you know. Ones you haven’t seen yet. Better ones.”
“I don’t care,” said Annie. “Just delete them, then we’ll forget all about it, forget it ever happened.”
“But I don’t want to forget it ever happened. Can’t you at least leave me something to remember you by?”
“I’ll leave you more than enough to remember me by if you
“Is that a threat?”
“Take it as you will, Eric. I’ve had a long day. I’m running out of patience. Are you going to give me that mobile?”
“Or what?”
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