'Off you go, then,' Gristhorpe said, giving Banks a gentle push in the small of the back.
It was time to face Sandra.
As he walked to the door, he saw Jenny, neglected now, slumped on the sofa with her face in her hands. He looked around the room again-the cold night air coming in through the broken window, the blood on the table, the shards of glass on the floor.
'Jenny,' he called softly, holding out his hand. 'Come with me.'
She did as she was asked, and on the way home Banks told her about Sandra's ordeal.
'Do you think it'll be all right?' she asked. 'You know, me coming with you?'
'To tell you the truth, Jenny, I don't know what to expect. I couldn't leave you there, though. Don't worry, the superintendent will see that everything's taken care of.'
Jenny shivered. 'I don't think I could have stayed there. I'd have gone to a hotel. I still can. I shouldn't come with you.'
'Don't be silly.'
Banks drove on in silence.
Finally, they arrived at the house and hurried up the path. Sandra flung open the door. Banks winced as she ran toward him, but she threw her arms around him.
'Alan! Alan, thank God you're all right,' she sobbed, burying her face in his shoulder.
He stroked her hair. 'I'm all right, don't worry. Let's go inside. I could do with a drink.'
Richmond stood up as they entered the living room. The young DC stroked his mustache and cleared his throat. Banks suddenly remembered that it was Richmond he had seen that night in The Oak. Jenny had been with him then and they must have seemed very close. God only knew what he was thinking!
'There, I told you,' Richmond said to Sandra. 'I told you he'd be all right.' He turned to Banks and gave him a nod, as if to signify that all was well. The two of them walked together to the door. 'I've taken your wife's statement, sir. It's all very clear what happened. He's the peeper, no doubt about it.'
'How is he?'
'Don't know yet, sir. It didn't look serious to me. They took him to the hospital about half an hour ago. Will that be all, sir?'
Banks could tell that Richmond was anxious to leave, that being involved with his inspector in such a personal way was exceedingly uncomfortable for him. 'Yes,' he said. 'You can go now. And Detective Richmond…'
'Yes, sir?'
'Thanks.'
Richmond blushed and muttered something about it being nothing before he took off at a fair pace down the path.
Banks closed the door and noticed Jenny and Sandra looking at each other. He knew that Sandra would be embarrassed at showing so much emotion in front of a stranger.
'I'm sorry,' he apologized wearily, running his hand over his close-cropped hair. 'I didn't introduce you, did I?'
After the introduction, Sandra offered Jenny a chair.
Banks went straight to the drinks cabinet.
'Something a bit stronger than tea, I think. Scotch all round?'
'Yes, please.' The two women nodded.
It was hard to know what to do to break the ice, Banks realized as he poured them all generous measures of Macallan single malt. Jenny could hardly say to Sandra, 'I heard you had a terrible ordeal tonight, dear?' nor could Sandra answer, 'Oh yes, absolutely dreadful. I thought I was going to be raped, then murdered. You didn't have such an easy time, yourself, I hear?' So they sipped scotch and said nothing for a while and Banks smoked a much-needed cigarette.
'Look, if you'd rather I went,' Jenny said, 'I'm feeling much better now.'
'Nonsense,' Sandra told her. 'You can't go back there. You're staying here, with us. I'll make up the spare bed. Oh, Alan, it's nearly time to pick the children up from the meetings. Shall I go?'
'No,' Banks said, putting his hand on her shoulder. 'You've had enough for tonight. Let me go. It's only down the road.'
'You'll tell them?'
'I'll tell them that we had a break-in and you caught a burglar. You'll be a real heroine in their eyes then.'
'It'll be in the papers, won't it, later?'
'Probably. We'll cross that bridge when we get there. Will you two be all right?'
'Of course we will,' Sandra said, smiling at Jenny. 'We're a couple of heroes, didn't you just say so?'
'I thought it was heroines?'
Sandra shook her head. 'Somehow, 'heroines' doesn't have the right ring to it. I think heroines are always victims. They're pale and wan and they make a lot of noise. More scotch, Jenny?'
Banks walked to the car. On the way back from the church hall, he told Brian and Tracy that they had a guest for the evening and that they were to behave themselves and go to bed as soon as they'd had their cocoa. There seemed no point in even mentioning what had happened.
Back at the house, they interrupted Sandra and Jenny deep in conversation, and Brian and Tracy were bursting with comments about their evening. Brian announced that he was sick to death of the Lifeboys and he was never going again. Banks helped get them ready for bed, took them upstairs and tucked them in; then, yawning, he walked back downstairs.
'I have to go in,' he said. 'There's a few loose ends to tie up.'
Sandra nodded. It was nothing new to her.
'I'll probably be late,' he added, 'so don't wait up.'
It was confusing, saying goodbye to the two of them. He bent and kissed Sandra's cheek, then nodded at Jenny and hurried out. Even though he'd got his priorities sorted out, there was something disturbing about being with both women at once. It was extremely disconcerting, and the more Banks analyzed the feeling as he walked-Walkman-less, but grateful to be breathing the cool night air-the more he decided that it wasn't sexual. It had nothing at all to do with the beauty and desirability of both women, but everything to do with his sensing a strong bond between them that put him on the outside. They didn't even have to talk to make it clear. Banks had felt as if he were a clumsy, primitive beast in the presence of two alien creatures.
II
The station was humming with activity. Already, those on duty in plain clothes had been recalled from the pubs and were clustering around the duty roster trying to decide who should go home and who should stay. And downstairs, the phone kept ringing. Residents of the East Side Estate were still calling to report the gunshot.
Upstairs, things were quieter. The Sharps had been taken to an interview room, and Gristhorpe's door was open. As soon as Banks rounded the corner, the superintendent popped his head out and invited him in. One shaded table lamp provided the only illumination, and the bookcases and deep leather chairs gleamed in its dim light. The only thing Banks needed was another cigarette. As if reading his mind Gristhorpe took a Queen's Arms ashtray out of his bottom drawer and pushed it over to him.
'Just this once, Alan. I can see you need it. Though God knows why a person would crave something that's a proven carcinogen.'
'There's none worse than ex-smokers,' Banks joked. Everybody knew that Gristhorpe's anti-smoking campaign was of fairly recent origin.
'How are things, Alan?'
'Pretty good, considering. It's nice to be able to relax for a moment. I haven't really managed to bring my mind to bear on what happened yet.'
'Plenty of time. Write it down in the morning. Sandra's well?'
