way you treated me afterward.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing.” But Annie had gone too far now to hold back. She put her knife and fork down.
“Come on, Annie,” said Banks. “Let’s clear the air. See if we can’t come up with a chance of working this out.”
“That’s a change of tune.” This was more difficult than Annie thought it would be, especially given the context – the ersatz hotel restaurant with its trees and potted plants, waitresses carrying trays, the businessmen in their pin-striped suits planning their days, some of them already on their mobiles and PDAs. “It’s just that you seemed to brush me off,” she said, “push me aside as if my feelings didn’t matter. God knows, I felt bad enough about making the mistake I did over Phil. I mean, can you imagine, sharing your bed with a fucking serial killer?” She shook her head. “But you. I’d have expected… I don’t know… support… comfort, maybe. You went to Corinne last night, didn’t you, but you weren’t there for me. I know we have our history and it hasn’t always been easy, but you should have been there for me and you weren’t. I was hurting as much as you, if not more.”
There, she’d said it, said more than enough. Christ, he was staying silent an awfully long time.
At last Banks spoke. “You’re right,” he said. “And if it means anything, I’m sorry.”
“Why did you do it? Why did you abandon me? Was it her?”
“Who?”
“Michelle, or whatever her name is.”
Banks looked surprised. “No, it wasn’t Michelle. It’s just that Michelle didn’t have anything to do with what happened, seeing her didn’t make me think about it. She took me away from it, distracted me. It was thinking about it that was doing my head in. I couldn’t remember a thing between answering the door and waking up in the hospital. Still can’t. All I know is what you’ve told me, and the smell of whiskey still gives me panic attacks. Christ, for a while, for weeks, I didn’t even want to get out of bed in the morning, let alone have a serious heart-to-heart about what happened. What’s the point? It’s like these interminable daytime chat programs, people talking on and on about their bloody feelings and problems and it gets them nowhere. It’s just talk, talk, talk, blather, blather, blather.”
“Some people think that might be better than keeping it bottled up inside.”
Banks ran his hand over his hair. “Look, Annie, I feel like I’m crawling out of a deep trough. By all rights, Roy’s murder should have pushed me back in, but it hasn’t. Cut me a little slack here.”
“Maybe you’re fueled by anger?”
“Maybe I am, but at least I’m fueled.”
Annie looked at him for a while over her tea and let his words sink in. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to put it all behind them and move on, and maybe part of doing that was allowing Banks some leeway in the investigation of his brother’s murder. After all, it wasn’t as if she could stop him.
“Okay, let’s imagine you were investigating the case,” she said. “Hypothetically, of course. What would your next move be?”
“What’s the official line of inquiry?”
“Basically they’re working their way through Roy’s mobile phone book and his business contacts listed on that smart drive you handed over. Oliver Drummond and William Gilmore, the names I mentioned last night, are DI Brooke’s priorities because their names are on his computer. Chop shop and fraud. Do they sound like enterprises your brother might have been interested in?”
“Probably,” said Banks. “Though I’d say fraud was the more likely of the two. I can’t see Roy in the stolen-car racket. Has Brooke got anywhere with either of them so far?”
“I don’t know,” said Annie. “I haven’t talked to him yet this morning.”
“He should be going after Lambert,” Banks said. “He knows as much as I do, that Roy had taken a photo of Lambert and an unidentified man and hidden it away shortly before he disappeared. That ought to set off a few alarm bells, don’t you think?”
“I’m sure Dave has his reasons. Does Lambert have a record?”
“No.”
“And is his name in the mobile call list or address book?”
“No.”
“There you are, then. Drummond and Gilmore both have form and they appear in the call list.”
“Even so…” said Banks. “What have you been up to?”
“I’ve been pursuing leads of my own in the Jennifer Clewes murder.”
“They’re linked. Roy and Jennifer were lovers.”
“I know that. But they can’t both have been killed by the man with the ponytail. The timing’s way off. Which is why Dave thinks it’s worth looking elsewhere for Roy’s killer. And like I said, both Drummond and Gilmore have criminal records. Brooke also has a man trying to find anyone who knows about Roy’s movements on the day he disappeared. Apparently the mobile isn’t much use there as he only used it once that day. To call his hairdresser.”
“I know that,” said Banks.
“Of course you do. You got to the mobile first. They’ve also enhanced the photo you received. Brooke’s not convinced yet that the man is Roy, but I’d say it seems likely. Anyway, they think it might lead them to the spot where it happened.”
Banks nodded.
“Any idea who Roy went off with yet?” Annie asked.
“I’m not sure, but I think it might have been Gareth Lambert. Roy’s known him for years. I’d still like to know who that other man in the photo is.”
“Any leads?”
“Nothing yet, but I’m working on it.” He smiled. “Obviously, I don’t have the manpower to follow up every name in Roy’s life, the way you and DI Brooke do, so I plan to go straight to Lambert, when I can find the slippery bastard. It still surprises me that Brooke hasn’t been there already.”
“I’ve told you why that is,” Annie said. “And his team’s overstretched anyway.” She paused. “Look, I shouldn’t be telling you this, but there was something going on at the Berger-Lennox Centre. Dr. Lukas told me she was helping young eastern European prostitutes who got pregnant – mostly illegal immigrants, she said – to get free abortions on the quiet. She called them ‘late girls.’ Jennifer Clewes found out about it, but instead of blowing the whistle she helped bury some of the paperwork. I don’t think that’s everything Dr. Lukas knows, but it’s a start. And don’t even think of going to see her. She’s on the edge and a visit from a stranger would alienate her completely.”
“Don’t worry,” said Banks. “I’m not altogether stupid. I’ll leave her to you. You don’t believe her story?”
“Most of it,” Annie said. “I think she might be willing to tell me more, but she’ll only do it in her own time, on her own terms.”
“How long has this been going on?”
“About a year.”
“How much money is involved?”
“The center charges between four hundred and a thousand pounds for consultation, termination and postoperative care, depending on how advanced the pregnancy is.”
“So it could add up to quite a tidy sum over time?”
“Yes. But not worth killing over.”
“I suppose not,” said Banks. “Did Roy know about it?”
“Jennifer knew, and I’ll bet she told Roy. The problem is that Dr. Lukas says Jennifer had known about it for a couple of months, but it was only in the last few days that people noticed any difference in her behavior.”
“So perhaps she found out something else?” Banks suggested. “Something we don’t know. How did the girls find Dr. Lukas?”
“That’s what seems a bit vague about it all. She’s from Ukraine. She said she’s known in the community. It’s possible, I suppose. Some of these communities are very close-knit. Word gets around.”
“But you don’t think so?”
“I think she’s holding something back. And I think she’s scared.”
