“Would you?”
“Look, I don’t see what it has to do with anything, but no. It’s over. O. V. E. R. We made our choices.”
“Is there someone else?”
She blushed a little but met his gaze with steady eyes as she fingered the top of her dress over her freckled collarbone. “As a matter of fact there is. But I won’t tell you anything more. I don’t want him dragged into this. It’s none of your business, anyway. Danny’s probably run off with his bimbo.”
“No. Marci Lapwing is still around. Never mind. Let’s move on. How do you explain the two men who visited you?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps her husband sent them?”
“Whose husband?”
“The bimbo’s. Marci whatever-her-name-is.”
“She’s not married. Since we last talked,” Banks said, lowering his voice, “things have taken several turns for the worse. We’re talking about very serious matters indeed. It looks as if your husband might be implicated in murder, money-laundering, theft and fraud, and that he may be partly responsible for the savage beating of a young woman.”
“My God… I… ”
“I know. You didn’t take all this seriously. Nor did you want to. Now will you?”
She began to fidget with her coffee-spoon. “Yes. Yes, of course. I assume you’re talking about Keith Rothwell’s murder?”
“Yes.”
“And who has been beaten?”
“A friend of Mr. Rothwell’s. The way it looks, both Keith Rothwell and your husband were laundering money for a Mr. X. We think we know his identity, but I’m afraid I can’t reveal it to you. Rothwell was either stealing or threatening to talk, or both, and Mr. X asked your husband to get rid of him.”
She shook her head. “Danny? No. I don’t believe it. He couldn’t kill anyone.”
“Hear me out, Mrs. Clegg. He did as he was asked. Maybe his own life was threatened, we don’t know. Immediately after he arranged to get rid of Keith Rothwell, he either became a threat himself, or he made off with a lot of illegal money, so Mr. X sent two goons to track him down. Maybe he’d seen it coming and anticipated what they would do. At this point, there’s a lot we can only speculate about.”
“And that explains the two men?”
“Yes.” Banks leaned forward and rested his arms on the table. “They visited your ex- husband’s office, they visited you, then they visited a girl they saw me talking to. She was the one they beat up. Now tell me again, Mrs. Clegg, have you ever seen or heard of a woman called Pamela Jeffreys? She was born here in Yorkshire, but her family came originally from Pakistan. She’s about five foot four, slender figure, with almond eyes and long black hair that she sometimes wears tied back. She has a smooth, dark gold complexion and a gold stud through her left nostril. She’s a classical musician, a violist with the Northern Philharmonia.”
Banks watched Melissa’s face as he described Pamela Jeffreys. When he had finished, she shook her head. “Honestly,” she said, “I’ve never seen her, and Danny never mentioned anyone like that. She sounds impressive, but he doesn’t go for that type.”
“What type?”
“Bright women. Career women. It scared him to death when I started to make a success of the wine business. At first he could just look down on it as my little hobby. You said she was a classical musician?”
“Yes.”
“He doesn’t like classical music. All he likes is that bloody awful trad jazz. A woman like the one you describe would bore Danny to death. Besides, she sounds so gorgeous, I’m sure I’d remember her.”
A gentle gust of wind blew through the center, carrying the smells of espresso and fried bacon from the cafe. “Two more things,” Banks said. “First, in the time you lived with your husband, did you ever come across any acquaintances, say, or clients of his whom you’d describe as shady?”
She laughed. “Oh, a tax lawyer has plenty of shady clients, Chief Inspector. That’s what keeps him in business. But I assume you mean something other than that?”
“Yes. If Daniel did have anything to do with Keith Rothwell’s death, he certainly didn’t commit the murder himself, as you pointed out.”
“That’s true. The Daniel I know wouldn’t have had the stomach for it.”
“So he must have hired someone. You don’t usually just walk into your local and say, ‘Look chaps, I need a couple of killers. Do you think you could help me out?’”
Melissa smiled. “You might try it at a Law Society banquet. I’m sure you’d get a few takers. But I see what you mean.”
“So he might have known someone who would consider the task, and it might have been someone he met through his practice. I doubt very much that the two of you socialized with hit-men, but there might be someone who struck you as dangerous, perhaps?”
“Who knows who we socialized with?” Melissa said. “Who knows anything about anyone, when it comes right down to it? No one immediately springs to mind, but I’ll think about it, if I may.”
“Okay.” Banks passed on Alison Rothwell’s vague description of the two men, especially the one with the puppy-dog eyes, the only distinguishing feature. “I’ll be at the Holiday Inn here for the next day or so, or you can leave a message with Detective Inspector Blackstone at Millgarth.”
“Is he the one who came over last night with my bodyguard?”
“No, that’s Detective Sergeant Waltham. I don’t honestly believe you’re in any danger, Mrs. Clegg – I think they’re probably miles from here by now – but it’s best to be on the safe side. Are you happy with the arrangement?”
“I didn’t really understand all the fuss at first, but after what you’ve just told me I’ll sleep easier tonight for knowing there’s someone out there watching over me.” She looked at her watch. “Sorry, Mr. Banks. Time’s pressing. You said you had two things to ask.”
“Yes. The other is a bit more personal.”
Melissa raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”
“I mean personal in the true sense, not necessarily embarrassing.”
She frowned, still looking at him. It was a strong, attractive face with its reddish tan and freckles over the nose and upper cheeks; every little wrinkle around her gray-blue eyes looked as if it had been earned.
“We think Daniel Clegg has probably done a bunk with a lot of money,” Banks began. “Enough to set him up for life, otherwise these goons wouldn’t be so keen on finding him. But it’s a bloody big world if you don’t know where to look. The two of you shared your dreams at one stage, I suppose, like most married couples. Where do you think he would go? Where did he dream of living?”
Melissa continued to frown. “I see what you mean,” she murmured. “That’s an interesting question. Where’s Danny’s Shangri-la, his Eldorado?”
“Yes. We all have one, don’t we?”
“Well, Danny wasn’t much of a dreamer, to tell you the truth. He didn’t have a lot of imagination. But whenever he talked of winning the pools and packing it all in, it was always Tahiti.”
“ Tahiti?”
“Yes. He was a big fan of
Banks stood with her. “Of course,” he said, shaking her hand.
“But if I can be any more help, I’ll get in touch. I mean it. I never thought Danny was capable of real evil, but if what you say is true… ” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll give what you said some thought. I…
