“So he saw nothing?”
“No. He said he heard somebody shout-he didn’t catch the words-and after that it was chaos.”
That seemed to square with what Tony Grant and Tim and Abha had said about the riot’s origin. Banks took a sip of Sauternes and watched it make legs down the inside of his glass.
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“Did he ever mention PC Gill to you?”
Jenny shrugged. “He may have done. I didn’t have much to do with the demo, as I said.”
“Did you ever hear the name?”
“I don’t know.” Jenny was getting prickly. “I can’t say I pay much attention to Dennis’s political concerns. And if you’re going to take a cheap shot at that, forget it. Unless you want a lap full of hot coffee.”
Banks decided it was best to veer away from the subject of Osmond. “You know the people at Maggie’s Farm, don’t you?” he asked.
“Yes. Dennis got friendly with Seth and Mara. We’ve been up a few times. I like them, especially Mara.”
“What’s the set-up there?”
Jenny swirled the cognac and took another sip. “Seth bought the place about three years ago,” she said. “Apparently, it was in a bit of a state, which was why he got it quite cheaply. He fixed it up, renovated the old barn and rented it out. After Mara, Rick came next, I think, with Julian. He was having some problems with his wife.”
“Yes, I’ve heard about his wife,” Banks said. “Do you know anything else about her?”
“No. Except according to Rick her name must be Bitch.”
“What about Zoe?”
“I’m not sure how she met up with them. She came later. As far as I know she’s from the east coast. She seems like a bit of a space cadet, but I suspect she’s quite shrewd, really. You’d be surprised how many people are into that New Age stuff these days. Looking for something, I suppose … reassurance … I don’t know. Anyway, she makes a good living from it. She does the weekly horoscope in the Gazette, too, and takes a little booth on the coast on summer weekends for doing tarot readings and what not. You know, Madame Zoe, Gypsy Fortune Teller…”
“The east coast? Could it be Scarborough?”
Jenny shook her head. “Whitby, I think.”
“Still,” Banks muttered, “it’s not far away.”
“What isn’t?”
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The waitress brought coffee, and Banks lit another cigarette, careful to keep the smoke away from Jenny.
“Tell me about Mara.”
“I like Mara a lot. She’s bright, and she’s had an interesting life. She was in some religious organization before she came to the farm, but she got disillusioned. She seems to want to settle down a bit now. For some reason, we get along quite well. Seth, as I say, I don’t know much about. He grew up in the sixties and he hasn’t sold out-I mean he hasn’t become a stockbroker or an accountant, at least. His main interest is his carpentry. There’s also something about a woman in his past.”
“What woman?”
“Oh, it was just something Mara said. Apparently Seth doesn’t like to talk about it. He had a lover who died. Maybe they were even married, I don’t know. That was just before he bought the farm.”
“What was her name?”
“Alison, I think.”
“How did she die?”
“Some kind of accident.”
“What kind?”
“That’s all I know, really. I’m not being evasive. Mara said it’s all she knows, too. Seth only told her because he got drunk once. Apparently he’s not much of a drinker.”
“And that’s all you know?”
“Yes. It was some kind of motor accident. She got knocked down or something.”
“Where was he living then?”
“Hebden Bridge, I think. Why does it matter?”
“It probably doesn’t. I just like to know as much as I can about who I’m dealing with. They were involved in the demo, and every time I question someone, Maggie’s Farm comes up.”
It would be easy enough to check the Hebden Bridge accident records, though where Gill might come into it, Banks had no idea. Perhaps he had been on traffic duty at the time? He would hardly have been involved in a religious 116
organization either, unless he felt a close friend or relation had been brainwashed by such a group.
