and shot George Cornell right between the eyes in front of a roomful of witnesses. Know what was playing on the jukebox?”
“Tell me.”
“It was The Walker Brothers, ‘The Sun Ain’t Gonna Shine Anymore.’ And they say the needle got stuck on ‘anymore’ when he was shot.”
“How melodramatic. I don’t remember The Walker Brothers.”
“Not many people do. Want me to sing you a couple of verses?”
“I thought you said you never sing to women you’ve just met?”
“I did?”
“Don’t you remember?”
“Nothing slips past you, does it?”
“Not much. I know you read Philip Larkin, too.”
“How?”
“You quoted him.”
“I’m impressed. Anyway, who knows how someone like Ronnie Kray thinks, if ‘think’ is even the right word? He was seeing enemies all around him by then and coming up with more and more dramatic ways of hurting people. He loved to inspire fear and trembling, even in his own men. He was also a homosexual with a taste for teenage boys. They wouldn’t have done Graham themselves, of course – they’d have got agoraphobia if they came this far north of London – but they could have sent someone to do it. Anyway, it’s not only that.”
“What, then?”
“If Bill Marshall did work as a strong-arm man for the Krays, what was he doing up here? You know as well as I do that people don’t just walk away from that line of work. Maybe he got himself fixed up with someone local, a branch manager.”
“So you’re saying he might have been up to the same tricks here, and that might have had something to do with Graham’s death?”
“I’m just saying it’s possible, that’s all. Worth investigating.”
“There was a reference to a protection racket in the old crime logs,” Michelle said. “Someone called Carlo Fiorino. Ring any bells?”
“Vaguely,” said Banks. “Maybe his name was in the papers when I was a kid. Anyway, it’s something to think about.”
“So why didn’t it come up in the original investigation?”
“Didn’t it?” said Banks. “Dunno. Want another coffee?”
Michelle looked into her empty cup. “Sure.”
Banks went and got two more coffees, and when he came back, Michelle was leafing through the book.
“Borrow it if you want,” he said. “I just picked it up to see if I could fill in a bit more background.”
“Thanks. I’d like to read it. Did Graham ever mention the Krays to you?”
“Yes, but I’m not sure that he ever said he or his dad knew them. I’ve also been thinking about the time frame. Graham and his parents came up here around July or August 1964. In July, there was a big brouhaha in the press over Ronnie’s alleged homosexual relationship with Lord Boothby, who denied everything and sued the
“What happened?”
“They got off. It was a flimsy enough case to start with. There was talk of jury tampering. See, back then, there was no majority verdict like we have today. All twelve had to agree, or there’d be a retrial, which would give the accused even more time to fix things. They dug up some dirt on one of the main prosecution witnesses and that was it, they were free.”
“But how does any of this relate to Graham?”
“I’m not saying it does, only that that was what was happening around 1964 and 1965, the period we’re concerned with. The Krays were in the public eye a lot. The libel case and the trial were both big news, and after they got off they were fireproof for a long time. It was the start of their ascendancy as celebrities, the dark side of Swinging London, you might say. Soon they were being photographed with film stars, sporting figures and pop singers: Barbara Windsor, Sonny Liston, Judy Garland, Victor Spinetti – who was in
Michelle frowned. “Yeah, I know. I keep thinking he’s looking over my shoulder even now, in here.”
“I don’t want you to get into trouble for talking to me.”
“Don’t worry. I wasn’t followed. I’m only being paranoid.”
“It doesn’t mean you’re
“I shouldn’t, but I will.”
“And if there’s any way I can help…”
“Of course. If you remember anything Graham said or did that might be useful, I’d appreciate knowing.”
“You will. Look, Graham’s mother mentioned a funeral, when the remains have been released. Any idea how long that might be?”
“I’m not sure. It shouldn’t be long. I’ll see how Dr. Cooper’s doing tomorrow.”
“Would you? Good. I think I’d like to come down for it. Even Shaw can’t complain about
“Of course. Can I ask you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“That remark Shaw made about the budgie. What did he mean?”
Banks related the sad story of Joey’s flight to freedom and certain death. By the end, Michelle was smiling. “That’s so sad,” she said. “You must have been heartbroken.”
“I got over it. He wasn’t exactly a wonder-budgie. He couldn’t even talk. As everyone told me at the time, it wasn’t Goldie the Eagle.”
“Goldie the Eagle?”
“Yes. Earlier the same year, 1965, Goldie the Eagle escaped from London Zoo. They got her back a couple of weeks later. It was a big story at the time.”
“But your Joey was never found?”
“No. He had no defenses. He must have thought he was home free, but he couldn’t survive all the predators out there. He was in way over his plumage. Look,” Banks went on, “will you answer a question for me?”
Michelle nodded but looked wary and shuffled in her seat.
“Are you married?” Banks asked.
“No,” she said. “No, I’m not.” And she got up and walked out without even saying good-bye.
Banks was about to go after her when his mobile rang. Cursing, and feeling like a bit of a pillock, the way he always did when it went off in a public place, Banks answered the call.
“Alan? It’s Annie. Hope I haven’t called at a bad time.”
“No, not at all.”
“Only we could use a bit of extra help, if you’ve finished your business down there.”
“Pretty much,” said Banks, thinking that his partings with both members of the local constabulary he had met left a lot to be desired. “What’s up?”
“Know that missing kid I told you about?”
“Luke Armitage?”
“That’s the one.”
“What about him?”
