the name was on his list. One day. He liked the opening well enough.
The book gave no clue as to where it had been bought. Some secondhand bookshops, Banks knew, had little stamps on the inside cover with their name and address on, but not this one. He would check the local shops to see if the victim had bought it in Eastvale, where there were two possible suppliers, and a number of charity shops that sold used books.
Nick hadn’t written his name on the inside, the way some people do. All it said was ?3.50. There was a sticker on the back, and Banks realized it was from Border’s; he’d seen it before. There looked to be enough coded information on there to locate the branch, but he very much doubted that that would lead him to the actual customer who had bought it originally. And who knew how many people had owned it since then?
Once again he turned to the neat penciled figures in the back:
6, 8, 9, 21, 22, 25
1, 2, 3, 16, 17, 18, 22, 23
10, , 13
17, 18,
They meant nothing to him, but then he had never been any good at codes, if that was what it was supposed to be, or anything to do with numbers, really. He couldn’t even tackle sudokus. It might be the most obvious sequence of prime negative ordinals, or whatever, in the world, and he wouldn’t know it from a betting slip. He racked his brains to think of someone who was good at stuff like that. Not Annie or Kev Templeton, that was for sure. Winsome was good with computers, so maybe she had a strong mathematical brain. Then it came to him. Of course! How could he have forgotten so soon? He grabbed his internal telephone directory, but before he could find the number he wanted, the phone rang. It was Winsome.
“Sir?”
“Yes, Winsome.”
“We’ve got him. I mean, we know who he is. The victim.”
“That’s great.”
“Sorry it took so long, but my contact at the DVLA was at a wedding this morning. That’s why I couldn’t get in touch with her. She had her mobile turned off.”
“Who is he?”
“His name is Nicholas Barber, and he lived in Chiswick.” Winsome gave Banks an address.
“Bloody hell,” said Banks. “That’s the second Londoner killed up here this year. If they get wind of that down south, the tourists will all think there’s a conspiracy and stop coming.”
“A lot of people might think that wouldn’t be such a bad idea, sir,” said Winsome. “Maybe then some of the locals would be able to afford to live here.”
“Don’t you believe it. Estate agents would find some other way to gouge the buyers. Anyway, now we know who he is, we can see about checking his phone records. I can’t believe he didn’t have a mobile.”
“Even if he had, he couldn’t have used it in Fordham. No coverage.”
“Yes, but he might have gone to Eastvale or somewhere to make calls.”
“But what network?”
“Check with all the majors.”
“But, sir-”
“I know. It’s Saturday. Just do the best you can, Winsome. If you have to wait until Monday morning, so be it. Nick Barber’s not going anywhere, and his killer’s already long gone.”
“Will do, sir.”
Banks thought for a moment.
Annie let Kelly Soames collect herself and dry her eyes, trying to minimize the embarrassment the young girl obviously felt at her outburst of emotion.
“I’m sorry,” Kelly said finally. “I’m not usually like this. It’s just the shock.”
“You knew him well?”
Kelly blushed. “No, not at all. We only… I mean, it was just a shag, that’s all.”
“Still…” said Annie, thinking that shagging was pretty intimate, even if there was no love involved, and that by speaking of it that way Kelly was trying to diminish what had happened so she wouldn’t feel it so painfully. If someone was naked with you one minute, caressing you, entering you and giving you pleasure, then lying on the floor with his head bashed in the next, it didn’t make you a softy if you shed a tear or two. “Care to tell me about it?”
“You mustn’t tell my dad. He’ll go spare. Promise?”
“Kelly, I’m after information about the… about Nick. Unless you were involved in some way with his murder, you’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“I won’t have to go to court or anything?”
“I can’t imagine why.”
Kelly thought for a moment. “There wasn’t much to it, really,” she said finally. Then she looked at Annie. “It’s not something I do all the time, you know. I’m not a slag.”
“Nobody’s saying you are.”
“My dad would if he found out.”
“What about your mother?”
“She died when I was sixteen. Dad’s never remarried. She… they weren’t very happy together.”
“I’m sorry,” said Annie. “But there’s no reason for your father to find out.”
“As long as you promise.”
Annie hadn’t promised, and she wasn’t going to. The way things stood, she could see no reason why Kelly’s secret should come out, and she would do her best to protect it, but the situation could change. “How did it happen?” she asked.
“Like I said, he was nice. In the pub, you know. Lots of people just treat you like dirt because you’re a barmaid, but not Nick.”
“Did you know his second name?”
“No, sorry. I just called him Nick.”
The wind moaned and rocked the car. Kelly hugged herself. She wasn’t wearing much more than she had been the previous evening. “Cold?” Annie asked. “I’ll turn the heater on.” She started the car and turned the heat on. Soon the windows misted over with condensation. “That’s better. Go on. You got chatting in the pub.”
“No. That’s just it. My dad’s always there, isn’t he? He was there last night. That’s why I… anyway, he watches me like a hawk at work. He’s like the rest, thinks a barmaid’s no better than a whore. You should have heard the arguments we had about me taking the job.”
“Why did he let you take it, then?”
“Money. He was sick of me living at home and not having a job.”
“That’ll do it. So you didn’t meet Nick in the pub?”
“Well, we did meet there. I mean, that’s where we first saw each other, but he was just like any other customer. He was a fit-looking lad. I’ll admit I fancied him, and I think maybe he could see that.”
“But he wasn’t a lad, Kelly. He was much older than you.”
Kelly stiffened. “He was only thirty-eight. That’s not old. And I’m twenty-one. Besides, I like older men. They’re
