Cold Is The Grave

“It’s simple, Craig,” said Banks, sitting down. “I lied. Emily’s father wanted me to find her, and it seemed a good idea to pretend that I was him instead of trying to explain myself. You can understand that, can’t you?”

“I suppose so, but…”

“It was a simple strategy. Anyone would have more sympathy for the girl’s father than for a policeman.”

“So you lied?”

“Yes.”

He seemed to draw in on himself. “What do you want this time?”

“More information. I’m not the only one who lied, am I, Craig?”

“You talked to Louisa?”

“You must have known I would.”

“What did she say about me?”

“That you were bothering her, following her, stalking her.”

“I’d never have done her any harm. I was just… I…”

“What, Craig?”

“I loved her. Can’t you understand that?”

“It didn’t give you the right to follow her around and scare her when she didn’t want to see you.”

“Scare her? That’s laugh. She hardly noticed me.”

“Clough did, though, didn’t he?”

“Who?”

“Oh, come on, Craig. You knew his name, didn’t you? You just didn’t want me to talk to him about your stalking Emily.”

Craig rubbed his nose. “The bastard.”

“Never a truer word. Anyway, let’s leave that behind us for the moment, shall we?”

“Fine with me. Her real name is Emily. Is that right?”

Banks nodded.

“And Gamine?”

“A joke. It’s an anagram of enigma, which is a sort of riddle. Emily Louise Riddle was her real name, and her father’s my boss.”

“I see. You probably didn’t have much choice, then. I suppose I shouldn’t have believed you in the first place, should I? I feel like a real idiot now.”

“No need to. What reason could you possibly have had to think I was lying?”

“None. But still… I had my suspicions. I told you. I thought there was something funny about you, the way you kept asking questions.”

Banks smiled. “Yes, I remember. So credit yourself with that and let’s move on.”

“I can’t see there’s anything I could possibly tell you that’s of any use. The papers said she took some poisoned cocaine in a club, is that right?”

“That’s right. Did you ever supply Emily with cocaine, Craig?”

“No. I’m not a dealer. I never have been.”

“A user?”

“I’ve snorted it on occasion. Not for a long time, though.”

“She must have got it from somewhere.”

“Ask her new boyfriend.”

“I doubt that was the first time she took it.”

“Well, ask Ruth’s friends, then. It certainly wasn’t me.”

“What do you mean, ‘Ruth’s friends’?”

“Just that they’re more into drugs than I am, that’s all.”

“Selling?”

“No. Just recreational. The music scene. Clubbing. That sort of thing.”

“What about strychnine?”

“What about it?”

“Ever have cause to use it in your line of work?”

“I’m not a bloody rat-catcher, you know.”

“I mean photography.”

“No.”

“Where were you last Thursday?”

Craig frowned. “Thursday? I don’t remember. I could check… just a minute. That might have been the day…” He got up and pulled a pocket diary from his jacket out in the hall. When he opened it to the right date, he looked relieved. “Yes, that was the day. I was in Buckingham doing some publicity shots for the university.”

“Anyone see you?”

“The person who was putting the promotional brochure together. A lecturer from the law department. Canadian bloke. I can give you his name.”

“Please.”

Craig gave it.

“How long were you with him?”

“For an hour or so in the morning.”

“And then?”

“Then I walked around and took the photos.”

“So you were pretty much on your own the rest of the day?”

“Yes, but people must have seen me. Am I a suspect?”

“What do you think? Emily finished with you, and you stalked her. It wouldn’t be the first time that sort of thing’s led to murder. Obviously, if you’ve got an alibi I can cross you straight off my list. Makes life easier, that’s all.”

But Craig Newton didn’t have an alibi. He could easily have driven from Buckingham to Eastvale in about three hours. Banks had thought about the timing and decided that, while there was no telling exactly when Emily had been given the poison that killed her, the odds were that she wouldn’t have left a stash of coke sitting around for too long without snorting any. There was also the fact that she was back living at home, and she wouldn’t dare do it around her parents. It wouldn’t be much fun at home alone, anyway, even if they were out. Coke was a social drug, and most likely she would have saved it for a party, or a night out clubbing. It made most sense, then, that whoever had given her the stuff had given it to her on Thursday afternoon, after first giving her a sample of perfectly good, uncontaminated cocaine. That would explain why she turned up a bit high at the Cross Keys.

“I didn’t kill her. I told you: I loved her.”

“Craig, if you’d been in this business as long as I have, you’d realize that love is one of the strongest motives.”

“It might be in the twisted world you live in, but pardon me if I haven’t had the chance to become that cynical. I loved her. I wouldn’t have harmed her.”

“Probably not,” said Banks. “What kind of car do you drive?”

“Nissan.”

“Color?”

“White. I suppose you want the number too?”

“Please.”

Craig told him. It meant nothing yet, but if they came across someone who had seen Emily getting into a car, then it could be of value. “You should be going after that boyfriend of hers, you know,” he went on. “Instead of harassing innocent people like me.”

“So you keep saying. Believe me, Craig, he’s never far from my thoughts. And I’m not harassing you. You’d know it if I was.”

“Why don’t you arrest him?”

“No evidence. You overestimate our powers. We can’t just go around arresting people without any evidence.” Actually, he could, but Craig wasn’t to know that, and he couldn’t be bothered to explain the difference between