“Bracing, I’d say.”
“Maybe I’ll wait for you in a nice cosy pub, if you don’t mind, sir.”
Banks smiled. “And put your notes in order?” He knew how fussy Richmond was about notes and reports.
“I’ll have to, won’t I? It’ll not stick in my memory that long.”
On the way to Scarborough, Banks had put forward his 86
theory about Gill’s murder not being quite what it seemed. While Richmond had expressed reservations, he had agreed that it was at least worth pursuing. They had decided to chat up Gill’s colleagues at the reception and see what they could pick up about the man. Burgess, of course, was to know nothing about this.
Richmond had argued that even if there was something odd about Gill, none of his mates would say so at his funeral. Banks disagreed. He thought funerals worked wonders on the conscience. The phony platitudes often stuck in people’s craws and made them want to tell someone the truth. After all, it wasn’t as if they were trying to prove corruption or anything like that against Gill; they just wanted to know what kind of man he was and whether he might have made enemies.
The procession pulled into the car park of the Crown and Anchor, where a buffet had been arranged in the banquet room, and the guests hurried through a heavy shower to the front doors.
II
“Bloody hell! What stone did you crawl out from under?” Burgess said when Paul Boyd walked into the front room to see what was going on.
Paul scowled. “Piss off.”
Burgess strode forward and clipped him around the ear. Paul flinched and stumbled back. “Less of your cheek, sonny,” Burgess said. “Show a bit of respect for your elders and betters.”
“Why should I? You didn’t show any fucking respect for me, did you?”
“Respect? For you?” Burgess narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think you deserve any respect? You’re an ugly little pillock with a record as long as my arm. And that includes assaulting a police officer. And while we’re at it, mind your tongue. There’s ladies present. At least, I think there are.”
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Mara felt cold as Burgess ran his eyes up and down her body.
Burgess turned back to Paul, who stood in the doorway holding his hand to his ear. “Come on, who put you up to it?”
“Up to what?”
“Killing a police officer.”
“I never. I wasn’t even there.”
“It’s true, he wasn’t,” Mara burst out. “He was here with me all evening.
Somebody had to stay home and look after the children.”
She had held her tongue so far, trying to figure Burgess out. He didn’t seem as mild-mannered as Banks, and she was afraid of attracting his attention. Even as she spoke, her stomach muscles tensed.
Burgess looked at her again and shook his head. His eyes were as sharp as chipped slate. “Very touching, love. Very touching. Didn’t your mother and father teach you not to tell lies? He was spotted in the crowd. We know he was there.”
“You must have been mistaken.”
Burgess glanced at Paul, then looked at Mara again. “Mistaken! How could anyone mistake this piece of garbage for someone else? You need your mouth washing out with soap and water, you do, love.”
“And don’t call me love.”
Burgess threw up his arms in mock despair. “What’s wrong with you lot? I thought everyone called each other love up north. Anyway, I can’t for the life of me see why you’re defending him. He’s got a limited vocabulary, and with a body like that, I doubt if he’s much good in bed.”
“Bastard,” Mara said between clenched teeth. There was going to be no reasoning with this one, that was certain. Best just stick it out.
“That’s right, love,” Burgess said. “Get it off your chest. You’ll feel all the better for it.” He eyed her chest, as if to prove his point, and turned to Paul again. “What did you do with the knife?”
“What knife?”
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“The one you used to stab PC Gill. The flick-knife. Just your kind of weapon, I’d say.”
“I didn’t stab anyone.”
“Oh, come on! What did you do with it?”
“I didn’t have no fucking knife.”
Burgess wagged a finger at him. “I warned you, watch your tongue. Are you getting all this, Sergeant Hatchley? The kid’s denying everything.”
“Yes, sir.” Hatchley was sitting on the beanbag cushions, looking, Mara thought, rather like a beached whale.
“All we need is the knife,” Burgess said. “Once we trace it back to you, you’ll be in the nick before your feet can
