All the Colors of Darkness

“The man and the woman?”

“Yes,” said Banks.

“They’ve already been.”

“What time, do you remember?”

“Just after four o’clock. I hadn’t seen them before, so I was just a bit suspicious.”

“Did they knock?”

“Yes. Then one of them took out a key and they just walked in. It did appear odd, but they didn’t act suspiciously at all. They just opened the door and walked in.”

“That’s all right,” Banks lied. “We did leave a key with their company in case we were both out. It was important. They just didn’t leave an invoice, that’s all.”

The woman looked at him as if to say he must be insane leaving keys with strangers. “Maybe they’ll post it?”

“Probably. Can you describe the couple for me?”

“Why does that matter?”

“I just want to know if they’re the ones I’ve dealt with before.”

Banks could tell she was getting suspicious, that his subterfuge was as full of holes as a political manifesto. “I’d like to put in a good word for them.”

“Just a man and a woman,” she said. “Nicely dressed. The kind of people you’d expect calling in a street like this. Though I must say she seems to go in more for the long-hair crowd. Present company excepted, of course.”

“Long hair never suited me,” said Banks. “Young or old?”

“Young, I’d say. Or youngish. Late thirties, perhaps. About her age.

They didn’t seem like service people to me. More like debt collectors.

Or bailiffs. Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing at all,” said Banks, who had never seen a bailiff in his life. He wasn’t even sure if they still existed. At least it wasn’t Mr.

Browne. But then, he wouldn’t do something like this himself; he 2 3 8

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would send operatives. “It’s just computers,” he said. “You know . . .

How long were they in there?”

“Less than an hour, so don’t let them overbill you. I hope they did a good job.”

“I don’t suppose you’d ever seen them before, had you?”

“No. Why? Look, I’m sorry, but my dinner’s in the oven and the cat wants feeding.” She started to close the door. Banks muttered good night and went back to his car.

Just as he had sat down, his new mobile rang. He had given the number only to Annie, Tomasina and Dirty Dick Burgess. It was Annie calling, he saw, and he owed it to her to answer. She was a part of it all, putting herself on the line for his half-cocked private investigation. He answered the call.

“Alan?”

“Yes. What happened?”

“Don’t ask me how, but she found me in the Horse and Hounds.”

“What did she say?”

“I don’t really know. She told me a story about a young Muslim police officer drummed out of the force after pissing off the spooks.

She told me the chief constable in particular wanted an end to this business. She told me there was no case to be investigated.”

“All to be expected,” said Banks. “Anything else?”

“Plenty. She said she’d been to see Othello and thought you might have based some theory of events on it.”

“She what?”

“My reaction exactly.”

“What did you tell her?”

“I didn’t need to tell her anything. She was a step ahead of me the whole time.”

“Did you tell her about the evidence? Tom Savage? The photos?

The Red Rooster?”

“Of course not. But she’s no fool, Alan. It’s only a matter of time.”

“Does she know where I am?”