offense?”
“Probably,” said Banks, “but we’ll worry about that later. What did you do at PKF?”
“Developed, produced and marketed a commercial database program.”
“Called?”
“PKF.”
“You invented this?”
“I did.”
“You worked alone?”
“For the most part.”
“It sounds like a lot of work for one person.”
“I’ve never been afraid of hard work. On occasion, I hired casual labor to help with distribution and such things.”
“People like Jonathan Fearn?”
Manners frowned. “The name doesn’t ring a bell, but I might have, yes.”
Banks took the photographs of Andrew Handley, Jamie Gilbert and Barry Clough out of his file folder and slid them across to Manners. “Ever seen any of
“No.”
Banks tapped the picture of Clough. “This one in particular,” he said. “Go on, have a good look. Think about it.”
“I told you. No.”
“Didn’t you do six months for smuggling offenses down south not long ago?”
“I just happened to get caught doing something people get away with every day.”
“You must be a heavy smoker and drinker, then.”
“I don’t smoke.”
“So you were going to sell the goods you smuggled?”
“Of course I was going to sell them. People go over to Calais and load up their cars every bloody weekend, for crying out loud. What’s this got to do with anything?”
Banks tapped Clough’s photo again. “We have information that leads us to believe this man was behind both the smuggling operation
“Then your information is wrong. I’ve never seen him in my life. Or the other two. I
“Who said anything about charging you?”
“I can’t understand why else you had me brought here.”
“What’s happened to PKF?”
“I’m sure you know already,” said Manners. “The van was hijacked on its way to our new business’ premises in Northumbria and everything was stolen. There
“And the driver was killed.”
“Yes. Very unfortunate, that.”
“A Mr. Fearn. Jonathan Fearn.”
“Yes, well, as I said, I’m sorry, but I don’t remember his name. I simply hired him to do the job.”
“Where did you find him?”
“Mr. Courage, the night watchman at Daleview, recommended him.”
“Ah, yes,” said Banks, shuffling some papers in his folder. “Charlie Courage. Small-time villain. Must have got in over his head.”
Manners frowned. “Come again?”
“Funny you should mention Mr. Courage, Greg. He also met with an unfortunate accident, shortly after Mr. Fearn. He found himself at the wrong end of a shotgun.”
“Yes, I read about that in the paper,” said Manners. “It was a terrible shock. He seemed a decent-enough bloke.”
“He was a crook, but you know all about that. Let’s move on.”
“By all means.” Manners shifted in his chair and rearranged his legs.
“Do you believe in coincidences?”
“They happen all the time.”
“And do you believe that the van getting hijacked, Jonathan Fearn dying of injuries received, and Charlie Courage being shot just happen to be coincidences?”
“They could be.”
“Why were you leaving Daleview?”
“The rent was too expensive. This new place was cheaper, and the space was better. Bigger.”
“Tell me again what PKF actually did.”
“I manufactured and distributed a database system I invented.”
“Background in computers? College?”
“Self-taught. A lot of people in the business are.”
“To whom did you distribute this software?”
Retailers.”
“Names?”
“Look, I’m sure I have a list somewhere. What is this all about?”
The knock came at the door, as arranged, and it couldn’t have been better timed. Banks announced DC Templeton’s arrival and paused the tape. “What is it, Kev?”
“Thought you might be interested in this, sir,” said Templeton, glancing at Manners as he spoke. “It’s just come in from fingerprints. Those CD cases.”
“Ah, yes,” said Banks. “Let’s have a look, shall we?” He opened the file. Templeton left the office. Banks pored over the file frowning for a while, showed the papers to Hatchley, then he set the tapes going again.
“This is interesting,” he said to Manners.
“What is it?”
“Fingerprint results. Another CD case.”
“But I don’t understand. You’ve already found my prints on the CD case. I’ve explained that to you already.”
“But this is different, see, Greg,” said Banks. “This is another case entirely.”
“Well, I’m sure I’ve touched more than one.”
“Yes, but it’s where we found it and what it contained that interests me.”
Manners seemed to turn a little pale. “I don’t… where
“Shop called Castle Hill Books. Run by a man called Stan Fish. Ring any bells?”
“He might have been one of my retailers.”
“For your PKF database software?”
“Yes.”
“Then how come this particular case contained a brand new Sony PlayStation game?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the owner of the shop switched them around.”
“Could be,” said Banks. “In fact, I’d be inclined to believe that would be exactly the case, except…”
“Except what?”
“Except we found your prints on six other cases containing the same game, and we have a lot more to test before we’re finished. Some of them contain a brand-new music CD by REM. Hardly even in the shops yet. Then there are a few word-processing programs and so forth. Funny, though, Greg, no PKF database system.”
Manners crossed his arms. “Right, that’s it,” he said. “I’m not saying another word until my lawyer gets here.”
Two hours later, toward the end of the afternoon, Manners was still in custody waiting for his solicitor and Banks was in his office reading through witness statements when his telephone rang.
