All the Colors of Darkness

“Even so . . . We don’t want gangs bringing their problems into the town center. We’ve got enough problems already with weekend binge drinking.”

Despite the rape and murder of a young girl after an evening’s binge drinking a few months ago, the problem hadn’t abated much, Annie thought. Now it was almost a test of mettle among the kids involved to go walking around The Maze, that labyrinth of alleys beyond the other side of the market square where the girl was killed. Still, they had caught the killer quickly enough, and there had been no more attacks.

The tea arrived along with a couple of Penguin biscuits. Gervaise poured, added milk and sugar and passed the teacup and saucer over to Annie, who helped herself to a biscuit.

“I’m glad you have the situation under control,” Gervaise went on.

“But that’s not really what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“No, ma’am?”

“No. You probably know that, on my advice, DCI Banks has taken a few days of leave owing.”

“Yes. Well deserved, I’d say.”

“No argument with that. I’m just wondering if . . . well . . . I can’t say that I sensed any real, true closure on his part regarding this other business.”

“Is there ever really true closure?” Annie said.

“Oh, please, DI Cabbot. Spare me the philosophical digressions.

Do you really think that’s likely to throw me off course?”

“Sorry, ma’am.”

“I should think so.” Gervaise gripped her teacup, little finger sticking out, and sipped daintily. “You do know what I’m talking about?”

she said as she put the cup down.

“I assume you’re referring to the Hardcastle-Silbert business?”

A L L T H E C O L O R S O F D A R K N E S S

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“Yes. Two solved cases. Looks good in the crime figures. And the chief constable is happy.”

“What are you asking me, ma’am?”

“What’s your opinion?”

“Of what? The case?”

“No. There is no case. Of DCI Banks.”

“Well,” said Annie. “He does have a new girlfriend, and he was called away from her in rather a hurry the other weekend. I should imagine he wants to finish what he started, maybe treat her to a few days at the seaside or somewhere and make up for lost time.”

“That’s what you really think?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Bollocks, DI Cabbot. Would you be surprised to hear that Banks was asking questions of an elderly couple called Townsend in Saint John’s Wood late yesterday afternoon? They phoned the local police as soon as he’d left. Scared out of their wits. He’d shown them his warrant card and they were able to let us know his name. As far as the locals were concerned, DCI Banks shouldn’t have been trespassing on their patch in the first place without letting them know.”

“No, ma’am, I didn’t know.”

“So what do you have to say to that, DI Cabbot? There’s no seaside near Saint John’s Wood as far as I can remember.”

“It was just a figure of speech, ma’am,” said Annie. “DCI Banks’s girlfriend lives in London. Perhaps—” Annie’s mobile went off. It no longer played “Bohemian Rhapsody” but had the simple, straightfor-ward bell tone of an old- style telephone. For once, Annie was glad of the interruption.

“Answer it,” said Gervaise. “It might be important.”

Annie answered. Banks’s voice came on. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I can’t talk now. I’m in a meeting.”

“Gervaise?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Does she know?”

“I think I can manage that, Winsome. Bye.”

“DS Jackman?” asked Gervaise.

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P E T E R R O B I N S O N

“Yes, ma’am. She wants me to meet her at Eastvale Comprehensive to talk to Nicky Haskell’s teachers.” This was something they had arranged earlier, so Annie didn’t feel that she was really lying, simply altering the order of the facts. And she was going to the comprehensive as soon as she got out of Gervaise’s office.

“And here’s me thinking it might have been DCI Banks.”