Get a bloody grip. Control.
“So you didn’t know where Lucy was?” Annie asked Claire.
“Obviously not, or I’d have probably strangled her myself.”
“What makes you think she was strangled?”
“Nothing. I don’t know. Why? Does it matter?”
“No, not really.”
“Where was she?”
“As I told you, she was in a home. It was near Whitby.”
“A home at the seaside. How nice. I haven’t been to the seaside since I was a kid. I suppose she had a nice view?”
“Have you ever been to Whitby?”
“No. We always used to go to Blackpool. Or Llandudno.”
“Do you drive a car?”
“Never learned, did I? No point.”
“Why not?”
“I can walk to work and back. Where else would I go?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Annie. “Out with friends, maybe?”
“I don’t have any friends.”
“Surely there must be someone?”
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P E T E R R O B I N S O N
“I used to go and see Maggie up the road, but she went away, too.”
“Where did she go?”
“Back to Canada, I suppose. I don’t know. She wasn’t going to stay around here after what happened, was she?”
“Did you ever write to one another?”
“No.”
“But she was your friend, wasn’t she?”
“She was
There didn’t seem much that Annie could say to that. “Do you know where she went in Canada?”
“Ask the Everetts. Ruth and Charles. It’s their house she was living in, and they’re her friends.”
“Thanks,” said Annie, “I will.”
“I never went back to school, you know,” Claire said.
“What?”
“After . . . you know . . . Kim. I just couldn’t face going back. I suppose I could have done my exams, maybe gone to university, but . . . none of it seemed to matter somehow.”
“And now?”
“Well, I’ve got a job. Me and mum are all right, aren’t we?”
Mrs. Toth smiled.
Annie could think of nothing else to ask, and she couldn’t stand being in the room for a moment longer. “Look,” she said to Claire as she stood up and reached for her briefcase, “if you think of anything that might help . . .” She handed her a card.
“Help with
“I’m investigating Lucy Payne’s murder.”
Claire’s brow furrowed. She ripped the card in pieces and scattered them on the f loor. “When hell freezes over,” she said, folding her arms.
T H E O P E N - A I R cafe below Malcolm Austin’s window seemed a reasonable place for a second interview with Stuart Kinsey, Banks thought, as he and Winsome settled down at the f limsy fold-up chairs and rick-ety table under the shade of a budding plane tree. And as they had F R I E N D O F T H E D E V I L
2 0 9
found him in the department library working on an essay, it was a short trip for everyone. It was still a bit chilly to sit outside for long, and Banks was glad of his leather jacket. Every now and then a breeze rattled the branches of the tree and ruff led the surface of Banks’s coffee.
“What is it you want now?” Kinsey asked. “I’ve already told you what I know.”
“That wasn’t very much, was it?” Winsome said.
“I can’t help it, can I? I feel awful enough as it is, knowing I was there, so close . . .”
