very much. Boyfriends and all.”
“Right, then.” Banks stood up. “I suppose I’d better go. Busy day tomorrow.”
Annie got up and walked with him to the door. She felt in a daze.
Why had she lied to him, misled him so? Why had she spoken so harshly? “Are you sure you won’t stay awhile?” she asked. “Another half glass won’t do you any harm.”
“Better not,” said Banks, opening the door. “Besides, I think we’ve said all there is to say, don’t you? You take care of yourself, Annie. I’ll see you soon.” Then he leaned forward, pecked her on the cheek and was gone.
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As she heard his car drive away, Annie wondered why she felt so sad, so much like crying. He hadn’t stayed long. Alice Coltrane was still on the CD player, only now she didn’t sound so calming after all.
Annie slammed the door shut and said fuck over and over to herself until she did cry.
11
THE MARKET SQUARE HAD A DIFFERENT CHARACTER AT
lunchtime, Banks thought as he walked toward The Fountain with Winsome, especially on a Friday when the weather was fine. All the pretty young girls from the banks and estate agents offices were out window-shopping, ID tags hanging from their blouses, having coffee and a sandwich with their boyfriends or a pub lunch in groups of three or four, laughing and talking about their weekend plans. The schoolkids descended en masse, shirts hanging out, ties askew, laughing, pushing and shoving, eating pies and pasties outside Greggs.
They found Jamie Murdoch behind the bar of The Fountain, and the pub was doing nice business. The menu was interesting, adding curries and Thai dishes to the usual burgers, fish and chips and giant Yorkshires stuffed with mince or sausages. Banks was hungry, but decided it would be best to eat elsewhere afterward, maybe The Queen’s Arms. Jamie had help both at the bar and in the kitchen, so he was able to take a quick break when Banks called him over to a corner table. The jukebox, or digital radio setup, was playing “Sultans of Swing.” The air smelled of curry sauce, smoke and hops.
“What is it this time?” Jamie asked, pushing his glasses up to the bridge of his nose with his thumb. “Can’t you see we’re busy?”
“Just a few more questions,” Banks said.
“Questions, questions. I told your Mr. Templeton everything the F R I E N D O F T H E D E V I L
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other day. Besides, it says in the paper this morning that some ex-boyfriend probably did it.”
Banks had seen the article. Irresponsible journalism, he thought.
Someone in the station had no doubt let it slip that they’d questioned a couple of Hayley’s ex-boyfriends and the story had grown legs and started running.
“I wouldn’t believe everything I read in the papers, if I were you,”
Banks said. “The way you told it to DS Templeton, Hayley Daniels came in late with a group of rowdy friends —”
“They weren’t that rowdy.”
“Let’s say high-spirited, then. You’d already had some trouble with a gang from Lyndgarth who had wrecked the pub toilets.”
“That’s right.”
“So far so good. Hayley and her friends were the last to leave, right?”
Murdoch nodded.
“And that would have been about a quarter past twelve?”
“That’s right.”
“What did you do next?”
“I locked up.”
“As soon as they left?”
“Of course. I’ve heard about robbers busting in just as you’re closing up.”
“Very sensible,” said Banks. “Did you know where they were going?”
“Who?”
“Hayley and her friends.”
“Someone had mentioned the Bar None. It’s the only place left open at that time, anyway, except the Taj.”
“Right,” said Banks. “Did Hayley say anything about not going with them?”
“Not that I heard.”
“I understand she got stroppy with you.”
“Not really.”
“But she did mouth off when she found out the toilets were
