R O B I N S O N
“I know,” said Banks. “But that set me thinking.”
Munro switched off the television and turned up the lights. “Will you be needing me anymore?” he asked.
“No,” said Banks. “Thanks a lot, Don, you’ve been a great help.”
Munro blushed, gave a little bow to Gervaise, and left. “ ‘This is the beginning of a beautiful friendship,’ ” Gervaise muttered behind him.
His shoulders moved as he laughed. “So DCI Banks, what were you going to say?”
“Just a theory I’d like to run by you.”
She shuff led in her chair. “I’m all ears.”
“As I said, Jamie Murdoch told us that as soon as the last customers left—Hayley and her friends—he locked up and got to work cleaning out the vandalized toilets.”
“Well, maybe it took him a few seconds to close the doors, but that doesn’t mean anything necessarily.”
“It’s over a minute,” said Banks. “And that’s quite a long time. Also, during that period, Hayley announces her intention and goes off, while the others, who tried to persuade her against the idea, head for the Bar None. We know that Stuart Kinsey sneaked right out of the back and in all likelihood heard Hayley being attacked.”
“So what are you saying? Or am I being thick?”
“No, ma’am. It took me a while to figure it out.”
“Oh, that makes me feel a lot better. Well? I still don’t see how Jamie Murdoch could have got into The Maze without being seen, raped and killed Hayley Daniels and then got back in again to clean up his toilets.”
“Nor did I at first,” said Banks. “Until I realized that nobody has conducted a thorough search of The Fountain. It’s a mini-maze of its own. There’s all sorts of rooms—upstairs, cellar, what have you—and it’s an old building. Eighteenth-century. When you think about it, it stands to reason that there
“A secret passage? You jest, surely?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time in this part of the world,” said Banks.
“Some way of getting out quickly when unwelcome guests arrived, perhaps?”
F R I E N D O F T H E D E V I L
3 2 7
“All right. I know my history. Priest holes and the like. Maybe you’ve got a point.”
“And that made me think of something else.”
Gervaise raised an eyebrow. “Pray tell.”
“When Winsome talked to Jill Sutherland, the girl who works at The Fountain, Jill told her that one of the reasons she didn’t like it there was because Jamie Murdoch dealt in smuggled booze and cigarettes, and that he had even tried to get her to bring back stuff when she went abroad.”
“Everybody does it,” said Gervaise. “I know it’s a crime, but trying to stop it would be like sticking your finger in the dike.”
“That’s not my point,” said Banks. “The point is that when Kev Templeton had a look around The Fountain he didn’t find anything.
Nor did Winsome and I.”
“ ‘Nothing can come of nothing.’ Didn’t someone say that?”
“Shakespeare, ma’am.”
“Clever bugger.”
“It was just a guess. You’ve usually got at least forty- nine percent of being right if you say Shakespeare to every quote, maybe more.”
“And the other fifty-one percent?”
“Most—forty-nine percent—to the Bible, and the rest . . . well, your guess is as good as mine. Mostly Oscar Wilde, probably.”
“Interesting theory. Go on.”
“Well, at first I thought that maybe all the police attention had encouraged Jamie to get rid of the stuff, or move it somewhere else, but then it struck me that if he had a good enough hiding place from the start, and if the stuff ’s not in—”
“Any of the places Templeton searched, then it has to be hidden somewhere. A cubbyhole, something like that?”
“Exactly,” said Banks. “And this cubbyhole may well lead out into The Maze.”
“There’s a great deal of speculation here,” said Gervaise. “I’m not sure I like it.”
“But we can check, can’t we?” said Banks. “If you can arrange for a search warrant, first for Murdoch’s home, so we can make sure he’s 3 2 8
P E T E R R O B I N S O N
not stashing the smuggled goods there, and second for a thorough search of The Fountain, walls, f loors and
