“A cup of tea would go down a treat,” said Annie. “I have to drive back to Harkside.”
“Just give me a minute. Make yourself at home.”
Annie relaxed on the sofa while Harriet went into the kitchen to make tea. The kettle must have boiled very quickly because she came back with a teapot and two cups and saucers on a tray in no time. Harriet had no sooner put the tray down on the low table than Juliet Doyle drifted in behind her wearing a long green dressing gown that trailed around her black slippers. Her eyes were puffy from sleeping pills or crying, or both, and her skin was pale and dry.
“Who is…” Then she saw Annie. “You.”
Annie stood up. “Yes,” she said. “I wanted to come and see how you were.”
“How do you think I am? Besides, if anyone should know, it’s you. It was supposed to be quite simple.”
“Look, I’m sorry about what happened,” Annie said, “but we have our procedures.” She knew it sounded lame the moment it came out and deserved the contempt it got.
“Your procedures got my husband killed.”
It wasn’t true, of course, Annie knew there were many contributing factors to Patrick Doyle’s death, the “perfect storm,” but there was no use in saying that here and now to his bereaved wife. As the day had progressed, Annie had found herself feeling more and more guilty, first as she had faced Erin Doyle, and now as she faced Erin’s mother. She had begun to resent Warburton and the entire AFO team for what they had done and for putting her in such an awkward position. An injured man with a bloody walking stick and a dicky heart, for crying out loud. How could anyone mistake that stick for a sword, even if the hall light had decided to burn out at the very moment they switched it on? But she bottled up her feelings and her guilt and carried on as best she could.
“I’m sorry,” she said again, then sat down and accepted her cup and saucer from Harriet.
“Sugar?”
“No. No, thanks.”
Harriet turned to Juliet. “Can I get you anything, love? Some tea?”
Juliet managed a flicker of a smile. “Maybe some hot chocolate, if you’ve got any.”
“Coming up.” She gave an anxious glance at Annie, who nodded, then left for the kitchen again.
Juliet Doyle sat down and wrapped her robe around her. “What do you want?” she asked.
“Nothing,” said Annie.
“I can’t believe it was just this morning,” Juliet said. “It seems so distant, so long ago.”
“Grief can do that.”
Juliet looked at her sharply. “How would you know? Besides, I don’t think I can even feel grief yet. I don’t know what I feel. Those drugs…” She laughed harshly. “My husband’s dead and I don’t even feel anything.”
“It’ll come,” Annie said. And when it does, you’ll wish it hadn’t, she thought.
“I suppose you’ve got more questions?”
“One or two. But I honestly did just want to see how you were doing, and how Harriet was coping. But as far as Erin’s future is concerned, you can help. She hasn’t been charged with anything yet.”
“What do you mean? How can I help?”
“The gun. Right now it’s a mystery. We know nothing about it-how it got on top of her wardrobe, how it fell into her possession, if it did. It’s something we’re going to be looking into very closely, and if you could help, that would go a long way toward influencing the CPS and any charges they might bring.”
“But I don’t know how it got there or where it came from,” Juliet protested. “Besides, why should I want to help Erin? She was partly responsible for…for what happened.”
“But she’s still your daughter.” Harriet came back with the steaming mug of hot chocolate and handed it to Juliet, then glanced at Annie again, who gave her the okay to stay with them. “You said you thought there was a boyfriend involved,” Annie went on. “Geoff. Do you know anything more about him?”
“No,” said Juliet. “Only what I told you. You can’t think he’s involved in this, too?”
“Well, it’s one explanation. I find it hard to believe that the gun was Erin’s.”
“But Geoff? He’s got a good job, a proper job. He sounds like a nice lad. He’s certainly been a positive influence on our Erin.”
“So you said before. Did she usually have problems?”
“Oh, Erin always has a boyfriend. The boys flock to her. Moths to a flame. But she always seems to be having boyfriend trouble, too. She certainly knows how to pick them.”
“I’ve been there myself,” Annie said, smiling. “So perhaps an ex-boyfriend is involved? Can you help me there? Any names?”
Juliet put her hand to her brow. “I can’t really think now,” she said. “My brain feels too soft. But I’ll try later. All right?”
“That’s all I’m asking,” said Annie. “It could really help Erin.” She put her empty cup down on the tray, stood up and smoothed the front of her skirt. “Thank you for the tea, Mrs. Weaver, and for your time, Mrs. Doyle. I really must go.”
“Harriet, please. You’re very welcome. I’ll see you out.”
Juliet Doyle sat gazing into space with the mug of hot chocolate at her lips. She didn’t say good-bye.
Harriet saw Annie to the door. “I’m sorry,” she said. “She’s very upset, as you can see.”
“I understand,” said Annie. “I honestly didn’t come to grill her.” She opened the door. The light was almost gone, and a chill breeze ruffled the evening air.
“You know, you could do a lot worse than ask Tracy Banks,” Harriet said.
Annie paused on the doorstep. “Tracy Banks?”
“Yes. Alan and Sandra’s young lass. They share a house in Leeds. Her, Erin and another girl. I don’t know her name. They did, anyway. Have done for ages. Didn’t you know that?”
“DCI Banks doesn’t tell me a lot about his family life,” Annie mumbled. “I wonder why Juliet didn’t mention it when she came to the station to see me.”
“Too upset, too agitated, I should imagine. Juliet’s quite highly strung under that capable and efficient surface. If I found a gun in my daughter’s bedroom, I have no idea how I’d react, what I’d do or say. I doubt that I’d be thinking very clearly.”
“True,” said Annie. “It’s a tough one.”
“Anyway, I’ve known both the families for years. Erin and Tracy have been friends since they were knee high to a grasshopper. Used to be inseparable.”
“Have they really?” Annie had to think very carefully how to play this one. She smiled. “Thanks very much. Maybe I’ll have a word with Tracy.”
She checked her watch as she headed down the path. It was too late to go to Leeds tonight, Annie thought, but she would go tomorrow after work, on her own time. Just a social call to see how Tracy was doing, make sure she wasn’t in any trouble, too, and if she was, see if there was any way of sorting it before Banks got back.
“PARK AT the other side of the garage, there,” Tracy said, pointing ahead. “It’s by the woods and nobody will see the car there. Not that anyone passes by here.” It was almost dark, and the headlights showed an impenetrable tangle of branches and tree trunks ahead, just beyond the cottage and its small garage.
“Fuck me, this is isolated,” said Jaff, coming to a halt. “Downright bloody creepy, if you ask me. How does your old man stand it out here? It’d drive me insane.”
“He likes being alone,” said Tracy. “Sad, isn’t it?” They got out of the car, and she stood for a moment listening. All she could hear was the sound of Gratly Beck trickling over the terraced falls, the occasional rustling of an animal in the woods and the distant call of a night bird. The waterfall was a sound she liked, and she remembered sitting out there on the wall chatting with her dad on summer evenings when she visited during term time, muted music playing in the distance, Billie Holiday or Miles Davis. She saw a couple of bats fly across the moon in the cloud- streaked sky. She didn’t mention them to Jaff because you never knew; some people were scared of bats, and he might be one of them. They had never bothered her.
Jaff trod out his cigarette end and heaved his hold-all out of the back of the car. Tracy wondered what was in it. It certainly looked heavy. “Shall we go in, then?” she said.
Jaff nodded.
Tracy felt in her pocket for her keys. She knew that her dad had installed a new security system over the summer, but he had told her the code in case of emergencies. As soon as she opened the front door, she tapped in
