“Superintendent Burgess doesn’t concern himself overmuch with little details,”
Banks said. “But he doesn’t have to live up here.”
“How is Paul?”
Banks told him.
“So, what are your loose ends?”
“It’s that number in your book.” Banks frowned and scratched the scar by his right eye. “I’ve found out what it means.”
“Oh?”
“It was PC Gill’s number. PC 1139.”
Seth picked up his plane and began to work slowly at the pine again.
“Why was it written in your notebook?”
“It’s quite a coincidence, I’ll admit that,” Seth said without looking up. “But I told you, I haven’t got the faintest idea what it meant.”
“Did you write it down?”
“I don’t remember doing so. But pick any page of the book and the odds are I’d hardly have it ingrained deeply in my memory.”
“Did you know PC Gill?”
“I never had the pleasure.”
“Could anyone else have scribbled it down?”
“Of course. I don’t lock the place up. But why should they?”
Banks had no idea. “Why did you tear the page out?”
“I don’t know that I did. I don’t recall doing so. Look, Chief Inspector-” Seth put his plane aside again and leaned against the bench, facing Banks-“you’re chasing phantoms. Anybody could have jotted that number down, and it could mean anything.”
“Like what?”
“A phone number. They still have four digits around here, you know. Or it could be part of a measurement, a sum of money, almost anything.”
“It’s not a phone number,” Banks said. “Do you think I haven’t checked? It is PC
Gill’s number, though.”
202
“Coincidence.”
“Possibly. But I’m not convinced.”
“That’s your problem.” Seth picked up the plane again and began working more vigorously.
“It could be your problem, too, Seth.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No. I leave those to Superintendent Burgess. What I mean is, it would be very convenient if someone else had killed Gill-you, say-and Paul Boyd took the blame. He really doesn’t have a leg to stand on, you know.”
“What do you mean?” Seth paused again.
“I mean the odds are that he’ll go down for it.”
“Are you saying he’s confessed?”
“I’m not free to talk about things like that. I’m just saying it looks bad, and if you know of anything that might help him you’d better tell me pretty damn quick. Unless it’s to your advantage that Boyd gets charged with murder.”
“I don’t know anything.” Seth bent over the length of pine and caressed the surface. His voice was tight, and he kept his face averted.
“I can understand it if you’re protecting someone,” Banks went on. “Like Mara tried to protect Paul. But think about what you’re doing. By covering for someone else, you almost certainly condemn Paul. Does he mean so little to you?”
Seth slammed down the plane. He turned to face Banks, his face red and eyes bright. The vein by his temple throbbed. “How can you talk like that?” he said in a shaky voice. “Of course Paul means a lot to us. He’s not been tried yet, you know. It’s only you bastards who’ve convicted him so far. If he didn’t do it, then he’ll get off, won’t he?”
Banks lit a Silk Cut. “I’m surprised you’ve got such faith in justice, Seth. I’m afraid I haven’t. The way things are these days, he may well be made an example of.”
Seth snorted. “What would you do? Fix the jury?”
“We wouldn’t need to. The jury’s made up of ordinary men and women-law-abiding, middle-class citizens for the most part. They’ll take one look at Boyd and want to lock him up and throw away the key.”
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