“I see what you mean. Can you think of anything else that might help me?”
“I’m sorry, no.” Georgina paused. “Look, Jenn wasn’t raped or anything, was she?”
“No.”
“Because I thought that might be something the police were holding back, like they do.”
“Sometimes it’s important to keep key pieces of information from the public, but not that. Jennifer was shot in the head, pure and simple.” Annie noticed Georgina flinch at the brutality of the remark.
“But what I can’t understand,” Georgina said, “is why on earth someone would want to kill her like that. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad for her it was quick. It’s just that I might be able to get my head around some pervert raping her and killing her to gratify his own filthy lust, but this…? It doesn’t make sense. It’s almost as if someone actually had a
“We’ll do our best to make sense of it,” said Annie, standing up to leave. “In the meantime, if you can think of anything else at all – and I do mean anything, something Jennifer might have said, done, not done, whatever – then please get in touch with me. Here’s my card.”
“Thank you.” Georgina took the card and looked at it.
On her way to Dr. Lukas’s office, Annie’s mobile rang. She went into the stairwell, took it out of her pocket and put it to her ear.
“Hello?”
“Annie, it’s Dave here. Dave Brooke.”
“What is it, Dave? Have you got something for me?”
“In a way,” Brooke said. “Brace yourself. It’s not good news.”
“Go on.”
“We found Roy Banks’s body last night. Pulled him out of the Thames near the Eye.”
“My God. That story in the paper this morning? That was Roy Banks?”
“Yes. Shot. A twenty-two, by the looks of it.”
“Alan…?”
“He identified the body. Asked us to sit on the identity until he told his parents. He was pretty shaken up.”
“I can imagine. Poor Alan,” said Annie. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Not right now. He’s gone off to Peterborough. I just heard from him. He’s going to stay with his parents for a while. I just thought you should know.”
“Yes. Thanks, Dave. Bloody hell, what’s going on?”
“I wish I knew.”
CHAPTER TEN
The Banks family had been seeing Dr. Grenville down at the local health center for more than twenty years, since back when he had his own practice, and he was only too willing to pay a house call when Banks rang him and told him what had happened. A fussily neat man near retirement age, with salt-and-pepper hair and a matching mustache, he tut-tutted over Ida Banks before giving her a sedative and issuing a prescription for more, which Banks rushed down to the chemist’s to fill. He felt like taking one or two himself on his way back but resisted the temptation. He’d need a clear head over the next few days.
Ida Banks lay on the sofa, a small, lost figure covered with a blanket. She was mumbling, but she wasn’t making much sense, and after a while she drifted off. Banks offered a pill to his father, who gave him a look of distaste and declined. It had always been his way to face life’s harshness head-on, without a mask, and he wasn’t going to change.
“What do we do now?” he asked Banks. “I mean, aren’t there forms to fill in and such like?”
“Don’t worry, Dad. I’ll take care of it all down in London. Do you know if Roy left a will?”
“Will? Don’t know. He never said.”
“I’ll talk to his solicitor later. He’s in Roy’s phone book. I have to make a couple of calls right now. Can I use the phone? It’s important.”
“Go ahead. Make as many as you want.”
First Banks rang Tracy’s mobile. The last thing he wanted was his children finding out about their uncle’s murder from the television or newspapers.
“Dad, what’s up?”
“How are things going?”
“Fine. What’s wrong?”
“Does something have to be wrong for me to ring my own daughter?”
“You just sound funny, that’s all.”
“Well, you’re right this time. It is bad news, I’m afraid,” said Banks.
“What’s happened? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” said Banks. “It’s your Uncle Roy.”
“What about him? Is he in jail?”
“Tracy!”
“Well, you always seemed to think he’d end up there.”
“I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you, but he’s dead.”
There was a moment’s silence at the other end, then Tracy’s voice came back on again, shaking a little. “Uncle Roy? Dead? Are you serious? An accident?”
“No. I’m sorry, love, but he was killed. I don’t know how to put it any better.”
“Killed how?”
There was no point trying to save her from the knowledge, Banks realized. She would soon find out from the newspapers. “He was shot. Murdered.”
“My God,” said Tracy. “Uncle Roy. Murdered.”
“It’ll be in the papers and on the TV,” Banks said. “I just wanted you to know first.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
“It’s under control. Just don’t talk to any reporters, if they track you down.”
“Do Grandma and Granddad want me to come and stay with them?”
“You get on with your studying. I’ll take care of them and I’ll try to come and see you soon. You can do me a small favor, though.”
“What?”
“Will you tell your mother?”
“Dad!”
“Please. Look, normally, I wouldn’t bother. They weren’t close or anything and she has her own life now. But it’ll be high-profile. Maybe the reporters will trace her, too. I don’t want it to come as too much of a shock to her.”
“Oh, all right. But this is silly. You’ve got to talk… Oh, never mind. I’m really sorry about Uncle Roy. I know… I mean, I know we didn’t see him often but he always sent really cool presents.”
“Yes,” said Banks. “I’ve got to go now. Keep in touch.”
“I will. I love you, Dad.”
Next Banks rang Brian, who didn’t answer. Banks left a message for him to ring as soon as he could, then phoned DI Brooke to thank him for his patience and give him the go-ahead to release Roy’s identity. Finally he rang Corinne. She sounded devastated after her initial stunned silence, and he wished he could be there for her, but all he could do was murmur useless words of comfort over the telephone as she cried. He promised to drop by next time he was in London, which he said would probably be soon.
He didn’t have Malcolm Farrow’s phone number, so that call would have to wait until he went back to Roy’s house. Then he realized he probably couldn’t go back there, as the whole place would be sealed off by the police investigating Roy’s murder. He hesitated, then he called Annie Cabbot on her mobile. She was on the line. Brooke would have already told her about Roy, so Banks just left a message asking her to give him a ring at Peterborough as soon as she could, then he went back to his mother and father.