Friend of the Devil

think it could have been her, do you? It creeped me out, I have to tell you.”

“What time was this?”

“Just after I went in. I wasn’t really aware of the time, but I suppose it was around twenty-five past, something like that.”

Just five minutes after Hayley herself had entered The Maze, Banks thought. “Did you see anyone?”

“No, nothing.”

“What did you do when you heard the noise? Is that why you were running?”

Kinsey nodded and studied the scratched table. “I got out of there pretty damn quickly,” he said. “I figured she must have finished before I got there and left already. You don’t really think it was her I heard, do you? Maybe I could have saved her, but I got scared. Oh, God . . .” Kinsey put his head in his hands and started crying.

Banks was almost certain that it was Hayley whom Kinsey had heard, but he

wasn’t going to tell him that. His own imagination would torture him more than enough as it was. At least the time of the attack could be fixed more accurately now. Hayley’s killer had grabbed her about five minutes after she had gone into The Maze, just after she had been sick and finished what she had gone there to do. Perhaps watching her had excited and inf lamed him.

The timing made perfect sense, of course. Hayley would hardly have been hanging around there unless she had made an assignation.

Again, what Kinsey had said about the mystery boyfriend came back to Banks. Maybe she had made a date with him? Maybe that was who had killed her? But why arrange to meet him in The Maze if she was going to spend the night with him? It would make far more sense to go to his f lat or wherever he lived. And why would a boyfriend resort F R I E N D O F T H E D E V I L

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to rape, or murder? Such things did happen, Banks knew. Not long ago, West Yorkshire police had arrested a man who regularly drugged and raped three girlfriends who would all have been perfectly happy to have consensual sex with him. Nothing much surprised Banks these days when it came to sexual deviance.

Hayley had carried condoms in her handbag, so she was obviously sexually active. Perhaps Stuart Kinsey had killed her, out of frustration, or out of jealousy. They were powerful emotions, as Banks knew from previous cases. Under the sway of jealousy, a man or a woman was capable of almost anything.

The tea arrived and Kinsey calmed down. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just couldn’t bear the thought that I might have been able to do something, but I ran away.”

“You didn’t know what was happening,” Banks said. It wasn’t much consolation, but it was some. He leaned forward. “I’m very interested in this idea of yours about Hayley having a secret boyfriend,” he went on. “Any ideas who it might be or why she might keep him a secret?”

6

IT’S GOOD TO SEE YOU AGAIN, ALAN,” SAID ANNIE EARLY

on Tuesday afternoon in The Horse and Hounds, a tiny, quiet pub off the market square where you could get a decent salad and enjoy a pint without Detective Superintendent Catherine Gervaise finding out about it. There was a tiny windowless nonsmoking bar, all dark gleam-ing wood and plush red velveteen, with old hunting prints on the wall—at least it was still legal to depict scenes of foxhunting—where it seemed that nobody ever sat. You had to go to the main bar to get drinks, but other than that, it was the ideal place for a private meeting.

Annie was drinking diet bitter lemon, having not touched a drop of alcohol since Saturday night. Banks was well into his pint of Tetley’s Cask, and the obvious pleasure he was taking in it was making Annie feel envious. Well, she thought, it wasn’t as if she had taken the pledge and was going to stop drinking forever. It was simply a small hiatus to get herself together, review the situation, and maybe lose a little weight. Tomorrow, perhaps, she’d have a pint. Or maybe a glass of wine after work tonight. Fortunately, the burger Banks also seemed to be enjoying held no appeal for her whatsoever.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Banks asked after a few minutes of small talk about mutual friends and acquaintances in Eastern Area.

“I know you’re busy with The Maze case,” Annie said. “I’ve heard about it. Poor girl. Any suspects yet?”

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“A few. We’re waiting on forensics and toxicology results,” said Banks. “And there are some more people we need to talk to. Kev Templeton thinks we’ve got a serial killer on our hands already. He might have a point. Even though there’s been only one definite victim so far, it has all the hallmarks of a violent sex crime, and people who do that don’t usually stop at one.”

“Kevin Templeton’s an arsehole,” said Annie.

“That may be, but he can be a good copper if he puts his mind to it.”

Annie snorted in disbelief. “Anyway,” she said, “I think you’ll be interested in what’s happened out Whitby way.”

“Oh?” said Banks. “I’m intrigued. I did hear something about a woman in a wheelchair being killed out there.”

“Yes,” Annie said. “A woman by the name of Karen Drew.”

“It doesn’t ring any bells.”

“It wouldn’t,” said Annie. “It’s not her real name.”

“Oh.”

“No. Julia Ford told me what her real name was yesterday.”

Banks paused with the burger halfway to his mouth and put it back down on the plate. “Julia Ford. Now there’s