Cold Is The Grave

“Financial help?”

“Yes. I mean, I did owe her, didn’t I? Apparently, she hadn’t had such a good life with her adoptive parents. They turned out to be unsuitable, she said, though she didn’t explain why, and they didn’t have much money. Then they died in a fire just after her second year of university, and she was left all alone. She was in her last year of university at the time she found me, so every little bit helped. I didn’t really mind.”

“Did she ever threaten to tell your husband the truth if you didn’t pay up?”

“She… she hinted that she might.”

“And you paid for her continuing silence?”

Rosalind averted her eyes. “Yes.”

“Even after she left university?”

“Yes.”

“That’s blackmail,” said Banks. “Are you going to tell me who she is?”

“Does it matter?”

“It might.”

Rosalind drank some wine, then she said, “It’s Ruth. Ruth Walker.”

Banks almost choked on his drink. “Ruth Walker is your daughter? Emily’s half-sister?”

Rosalind nodded.

“My God, why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I can’t see how it could be relevant.”

“That’s for me to judge. Did Emily know this?”

“I didn’t think so.”

“What do you mean?”

“As far as I knew at the time, they met only once. Ruth used to come to my office in Eastvale. That’s where we did all… all our business. Believe it or not, I didn’t even know her address, where she lived, except she told me she’d grown up in Salford. Once – last Easter, I think it was – Emily was there. She’d come to borrow some money from me to go shopping. Ruth walked in. I introduced my daughter and told her Ruth was there about the new computer system we were thinking of installing. They chatted a bit, about music, what school Emily was at, that sort of thing. Just polite chitchat. That was all. Or so I thought.”

“So Emily didn’t know who Ruth really was?”

“That’s what I believed at the time.”

“What changed your mind?”

“After Emily came… after you brought Emily back home, the phone rang one day. It was Ruth. I thought she was calling for me. I was angry because I’d specifically told her never to phone the house, but she asked to speak to Emily.”

“And?”

“Afterward, I asked Emily about it. Then she told me about how Ruth had phoned her a lot at school, how she’d even been down to London once for a weekend and stayed with her. How they were friends.”

“So Emily knew that Ruth was her half-sister?”

“Yes.”

“What was her reaction?”

“You knew Emily. She thought it was all rather cool, her mother having a secret past. She promised me not to say anything. She was well aware of how her father would react.”

“Did you trust her?”

“For the most part. Emily wasn’t malicious, though she could be unpredictable. You know, at her age, I wasn’t much different. If we’d been contemporaries, who knows, we might have been friends.”

“I can only imagine the havoc the two of you might have wreaked.”

Rosalind smiled her Emily smile again. “Yes.”

“Did she know about the blackmail?”

“Good Lord, no. At least, she never said anything about it. And I doubt that’s something Ruth would have admitted to her half-sister. Emily was very headstrong and irresponsible, but she was honest at the bottom of it all. I can’t see her condoning what Ruth was doing if she knew about it.”

That made sense. But what if Emily had found out on her own? “Why tell me all this now?” he asked.

Rosalind shrugged. “A lot of reasons. Jerry’s death. Your finding him. Your bringing Emily back. You know, for better or for worse, you’ve become part of our lives this last while. I had to tell someone and I couldn’t think of anyone else. Isn’t that pathetic? Ever since Emily came home, I’ve been going crazy keeping it to myself, but I couldn’t risk telling you then. Not while Jerry was alive. I know you didn’t like him, but I know that you policemen stick together. And anything you discover often makes its way into the papers. I’m not saying you would have said anything, but…”

“The walls have ears?”

“Something like that.”

“And now?”

“It doesn’t matter now, does it? Nothing matters now. Apart from my anger, I just feel empty.” She put her glass aside and stood up. “Now I really must go. I’ve said what I came to say. Thank you for listening.”

As Annie was about to turn left into Banks’s drive just before Gratly Bridge, a car shot out backward and swung toward her so fast she had to floor the brake pedal to avoid a collision. The other car then set off down the hill toward Helmthorpe.

Heart beating fast, Annie turned left and drove slowly up to Banks’s cottage. She could see him silhouetted in the open door, wearing only a shirt and jeans despite the cold.

Annie pulled up in front and got out.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Banks said.

“That’s a nice welcome. Can I come in?”

He stood aside. “You might as well. Everyone else does.”

Annie had come prepared to launch right into him, having pumped herself up on the drive, but the adrenaline surge of her near accident and Banks’s offhand manner took some of the wind out of her sails. Inside the cottage, she sat down in the armchair. It was still warm from whoever had just left it.

“And what can I do for you?” Banks said, shutting the door and going over to put more peat on the fire.

“First you can get me a drink.” Annie nodded toward the low table. “That wine will do just fine.”

Banks went into the kitchen, got another glass and poured her some wine.

“Who was that?” she asked, taking the glass.

“Who?”

“The person who just left like a bat out of hell. The person who damn near backed right into me.”

“Oh, that person. Rosalind Riddle.”

“Friend of yours?”

“Work.”

“Work? Oh, well, I can see why you wouldn’t want to tell me anything about it, then. After all, I’m only your DIO, aren’t I?”

“Knock off the sarcasm, Annie. It doesn’t suit you. Of course I was going to tell you.”

“Like you tell me everything?”

“Come again?”

“Oh, you know what I mean.”

“Humor me.”

“Rosalind Riddle is work like her daughter was work, right?”

“I don’t get it. What are you implying?”

“I’m not implying anything.” Annie told him about leafing through the green sheets and finding the reference to the Hotel Fifty-Five. “No further action, or so Winsome told me. So I wondered why I hadn’t heard anything about it. I phoned the hotel and, lo and behold, who spent most of a night there together a month ago?”

Banks said nothing; he just gazed sheepishly into the fire.