“I’ve spoken to him,” said Annie. “He wasn’t out playing golf like everyone thought. He was actually in his office at Eastvale General Infirmary catching up on paperwork. I think he’s bored. He’s willing to get started whenever he gets the go-ahead.”
“Wonderful,” said Gervaise. “He’s got his wish.”
“It’ll have to be Monday, though,” Annie said. “The rest of his staff ’s away for the weekend.”
“I don’t suppose we’re in a rush,” said Gervaise. “And it is the Sab-bath tomorrow. First thing Monday morning will do fine.”
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4 9
“Just one point,” said Banks. “Do you think it might make sense if Dr. Glendenning autopsies Laurence Silbert first, rather than Mark Hardcastle? I mean, everyone is pretty sure that Hardcastle hanged himself. There’s no evidence of anyone else having been with him, is there, Stefan?”
“None at all,” said Nowak. “And everything about that scene, including the knot and the rope marks, is consistent with suicide by hanging. Textbook case. As I’ve said before, it’s difficult to hang someone against his will. The only questions we still have are toxico-logical.”
“You mean, was he drugged?”
“It’s a possibility. The shopkeeper said he was calm and subdued, though that’s not terribly strange in someone who has made the decision to take his own life, and we do know that he had been drinking.
He might have taken pills. Anyway, we’ll be testing the blood samples carefully.”
“Okay,” Banks said. “Are we working on the assumption that if Hardcastle
“Makes sense to me,” said Gervaise. “
No one had any.
“In the meantime, then,” Gervaise went on, “as DCI Banks suggested, we ask more questions. We try to plot out their movements, the hours leading up to their deaths. We dig into their backgrounds, family history, friends, enemies, ambitions, work, finances, previous relationships, travels, the lot. Okay?”
They all nodded. Superintendent Gervaise gathered up her papers and walked over to the door. Just before she left, she half-turned and said, “I’ll try to keep the media at bay for as long as I can, now they’ve got wind of it. Remember, this is the Heights. Tread carefully. Keep me informed at every stage.”
AFTER THE meeting, Banks sat in his office listening to Natalie Clein playing the Elgar Cello Concerto and studied his copies of the materi-5 0 P E T E R
R O B I N S O N
als gathered from Silbert’s wallet and Hardcastle’s car. It didn’t add up to a hell of a lot. He glanced at his watch. Just after six-fifteen. He wanted to talk to Sophia, see if she had forgiven him, but now would be the worst possible time. The guests were due to arrive at half past seven, and she would be right in the midst of her dinner preparations.
Idly he dialed the number of Julian Fenner, Import-Export, the card found in Laurence Silbert’s wallet. After only a few rings and several distant clicks and echoes, an automated voice came on the line to tell him that the number had been discontinued and was no longer in service. He tried again, slowly, in case he had misdialed. Same result. After a few attempts to find a matching address through reverse directories, he gave up. It appeared that the number did not exist. He called the squad room and asked Annie to drop by his office.
While he waited, he walked to the open window and gazed out on the market square. At that time of evening it was still fairly quiet. The shadows were lengthening, but Banks knew it would stay light until after ten o’clock. The market had packed up and moved on hours ago, leaving a slight whiff of rotting vegetables about the cobbled square.
Most of the shops were closed, except Somerfield’s and W. H. Smith’s, and the only people around were the ones who wanted an early meal or a drink.
When Annie came, Banks sat opposite her and moved his computer monitor out of the way so he could see her properly. She was casually dressed in a russet T-shirt and short blue denim skirt, no tights. Her tousled chestnut hair hung over her shoulders, her complexion was smooth and free of all but the lightest of makeup, her almond eyes were clear, and her demeanor seemed calm and controlled. Banks hadn’t had a really good talk with her since he’d taken up with Sophia.
He knew she had had one or two problems to deal with from their last case together, and he hadn’t exactly been a rock, but she looked as if she had managed it well. A couple of weeks down in Cornwall at her father’s place had obviously done her a lot of good.
Banks turned the business card to face her. “Did you try this number?” he asked.
“No time,” Annie said. “I’d no sooner got back from the Heights than Superintendent Gervaise called the meeting. Then you took it.”
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5 1
“It wasn’t meant to be a criticism, Annie. I was just wondering.”
Annie raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
Banks shifted in his chair. “It’s been disconnected,” he said.
“Sorry?”
“The number. Julian Fenner, Import-Export. There’s no such number. And no address. I’ve checked. Discontinued. No longer in service.”
“Since when?”
“No idea. We can put technical support on it, if you like.”
