“Fine, Ken.”
“And Alan?”
Blackstone sometimes spoke as if Banks and Annie were still an item, or as if he wished they were, but it didn’t bother her. “Haven’t 8 2 P E T E R
R O B I N S O N
seen him for a while,” she said. “I’m on loan to Eastern Area. Look, maybe you can help me?”
“Of course, if I can.”
“Should be easy enough. I’m trying to track down a Park Square solicitor name of Constance Wells. Ring any bells?”
“No, but give me a few minutes. I’ll call you back.”
They passed close by the massive cooling towers near Sheffield, and around the bend Annie saw the sprawl of Meadowhall, the pop u lar shopping mall, to her left, cars parked everywhere.
Annie’s mobile rang and she answered immediately. “Ken?”
“Ken?” said the voice. “Who’s that? Do I have a rival? Sorry to disappoint you, but it’s me. Eric.”
“What do you want?”
“I just wanted to check if you were still going to join me for lunch on Thursday.”
“I’m expecting an important call. I can’t talk now,” Annie said.
“See you Thursday, then. Black Horse.”
Annie pressed “end.” She felt her face f lush as Ginger gave her a sideways look. “Boyfriend trouble?” she asked.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
Ginger held her hands up. “Sorry.”
Annie glanced at her, then laughed. “Some blokes just won’t take no for an answer, right?” she said.
“Tell me about it.”
It wasn’t an invitation, or Annie might have relented. As it was, the mobile saved her. Ken Blackstone this time.
“Yes?” Annie said.
“Constance Wells does indeed work in Park Square,” he said.
“Conveyancing.”
“Makes sense,” said Annie.
“Anyway, she’s with the firm of Ford, Reeves and Mitchell.” Blackstone gave an address on Park Square. “That help?”
“Very much,” said Annie. “It even sounds familiar. Would that be
“Indeed it would,” said Blackstone.
Julia Ford was a hotshot solicitor who specialized in high-profile F R I E N D O F T H E D E V I L
8 3
criminal cases. Annie had seen her name and picture in the papers from time to time, though they had never met. “Thanks, Ken,” she said.
“My pleasure. And don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t.”
“Say hello to Alan from me, and ask him to give me a ring when he has time.”
“I’ll do that,” said Annie, not at all sure as to when she would get the chance. “Bye.” She ended the call and concentrated on the road. They were coming to the eastern edge of Leeds, where the tangle of roads and motorways merging and splitting almost rivaled Birmingham’s Spaghetti Junction. Annie followed the signs to the city center as best she could and, with Ginger’s help, ended up completely lost. Eventually, they found a car park near the back of City Station and, with only some vague idea of where they were, left the Astra there and walked the rest of the way. It was easy enough when they got to City Square, with its old post office turned into a restaurant, the statue of the Black Prince and torch- bearing nymphs, and a pedestrian area where people sat at tables eating and drinking when the weather was good. Even today, one or two brave souls had ventured out into the open.
They walked along Wellington Street for a short distance, then turned up King Street and made their way over to Park Square. The buildings were mostly Georgian, and the solicitors’ offices hadn’t been modernized that much inside. A receptionist sat clicking away at her computer in the high-ceilinged entrance hall and asked them what they wanted.
“We’d like to see Constance Wells, please,” Annie said, showing her warrant card.
“Do you have an appointment?”
“I’m afraid not.”
She picked up her telephone. “Let me see if Ms. Wells is available right now. Please take a seat.” She gestured
