“On his way, sir,” Richmond answered.
“Can you get everyone together while we’re waiting?” Banks asked. “There’s a few things I want to tell them right now.”
Richmond went into the open-plan office area, the domain of the uniformed police at Eastvale, and rounded up everyone he could. The men and women sat on desks or leaned against partitions and waited for instructions. Some of them still showed signs of the recent battle: a bruised cheekbone, torn uniform, black eye, cauliflower ear.
“Does anyone know exactly how many we’ve got in custody?” Banks asked first.
“Thirty-six, sir.” It was a constable with a split lip and the top button torn off his jacket who answered. “And I’ve heard there’s ten more at the hospital.”
“Any serious injuries?”
“No, sir. Except, well, Constable Gill.”
“Yes. So if there were about a hundred at the demo, there’s almost a fifty-fifty chance we’ve already caught our killer. First, I want everyone searched, fingerprinted and examined for Gill’s bloodstains. Constable Reynolds, will you act as liaison with the hospital?”
“Yes, sir.”
“The same procedure applies there. Ask the doctor to 21
check the ten patients for blood. Next we’ve got to find the murder weapon. All we know so far is that PC Gill was stabbed. We don’t know what kind of knife was used, so anything with a blade is suspicious, from a kitchen knife to a stiletto. There’s some extra men on the way from York, but I want a couple of you to start searching the street thoroughly right away, and that includes having a good look down the grates, too. Clear so far?”
Some muttered, “Yes, sir.” Others nodded.
“Right. Now we get to the hard work. We’ll need a list of names: everyone we’ve got and anyone else we can get them to name. Remember, about sixty people got away, and we have to know who they were. If any of you recall seeing a familiar face we don’t have here or at the hospital, make a note of it. I don’t suppose the people we question will want to give their friends away, but lean on them a bit, do what you can. Be on the lookout for any slips. Use whatever cunning you have. We also want to know who the organizers were and what action groups were represented.
“I want statements from everyone, even if they’ve nothing to say. We’re going to have to divide up the interrogations, so just do the best you can. Stick to the murder; ask about anyone with a knife. Find out if we’ve got any recorded troublemakers in the cells; look up their files and see what you come up with.
If you think someone’s lying or being evasive, push them as far as you can, then make a note of your reservations on the statement. I realize we’re going to be swamped with paperwork, but there’s no avoiding it. Any questions?”
Nobody said a word.
“Fine. One last thing: we want statements from all witnesses, too, not just the demonstrators. There must have been some people watching from those flats overlooking the street. Do the rounds. Find out if anyone saw anything. And rack your own brains. You know there’ll be some kind of official enquiry into why all this happened in the first place, so all of you who were there might as well make a statement now, while the events are fresh in your minds. I want all 22
statements typed and on Superintendent Gristhorpe’s desk first thing in the morning.”
Banks looked at his watch. “It’s nine-thirty now. We’d better get cracking.
Anything I’ve overlooked?”
Several officers shook their heads; others stood silent. Finally a policewoman put her hand up. “What are we to do with the prisoners, sir, after we’ve got all the statements?”
“Follow normal procedure,” Banks said. “Just charge them and let them go unless you’ve got any reason to think they’re involved in PC Gill’s death. They’ll appear before the magistrate as soon as possible. Is that all?” He paused, but nobody said anything. “Right. Off you go then. I want to know about any leads as soon as they come up. With a bit of luck we could get this wrapped up by morning. And would someone take some of the prisoners upstairs? There’ll be three of us interviewing up there when the super arrives.” He turned to Richmond. “We’ll want you on the computer, Phil. There’ll be a lot of records to check.”
“The super’s here now, sir.” PC Telford pointed to the door, which was out of Banks’s line of vision.
Superintendent Gristhorpe, a bulky man in his late fifties with bushy grey hair and eyebrows, a red pock-marked face and a bristly moustache, walked over to where the three CID men were standing by the stairs. His eyes, usually as guileless as a baby’s, were clouded with concern, but his presence still brought an aura of calm and unhurried common sense.
“You’ve heard?” Banks asked.
“Aye,” said Gristhorpe. “Not all the details, but enough. Let’s go upstairs and you can tell me about it over a cup of coffee.” He put his hand on Banks’s arm gently.
Banks turned to Sergeant Hatchley. “You might as well get started on the interviews,” he said. “We’ll help you out in a minute when I’ve filled the super in.” Then the four CID men trudged upstairs and PC Telford ushered a brace of wet, frightened demonstrators up after them.
Ill
“Zoe! Thank God you’re all right!”
23
Paul and Mara stared at the slight figure in the glistening red anorak. Her ginger hair was stuck to her skull, and the dark roots showed. Rain dripped onto the straw mat just inside the doorway. She slipped off her jacket, hung it next to Paul’s and walked over to hug them both.
“You’ve told her what happened?” she asked Paul.
