'Yes. She's either tougher than I thought or she's a good actress.'
'I think she's just got hidden depths, Alan. Strong reserves. You'd be surprised how many have. My wife, God bless her, was the mildest, gentlest woman on the face of the earth. Talk about frail-you'd think she'd faint at a cuss word. But she was a nurse in the war, just like Alice Matlock, and she saw more than one member of her family from this world to the next. But she never once flinched or complained, even when the cancer got hold of her. 'Course, she was a Yorkshire woman.' Banks smiled. 'Of course.'
'Many a copper would have run straight to his wife, Alan. You did the right thing. You weighed up both situations and decided where you could do the most good.'
'It didn't seem as logical a process as that. When it comes down to it, there was only one place where I had to be.'
'I know that, and so do you. But a lesser man might have let emotion confuse the issue.'
'There were times when I thought I had. What's happened to Robin Allott?'
'Mild concussion. He'll be all right. Still at the hospital. If that camera had been out of its leather case, and if Sandra had hit him on the temple or the base of the skull, he might have been dead. It was an old one, metal body instead of that plastic they use nowadays. The young fellow was very lucky indeed.'
'Sandra, too.'
'No blame would have been attached to her.'
'But imagine how she'd feel, even so.'
'Aye,' Gristhorpe said, rubbing his prickly chin.
'Has he said anything?'
'Not a dicky bird, yet. Still too dazed. I don't think he'll hold back on us, though. Sandra made a very clear statement.' His bushy brows knitted in a deep frown. 'She went through a lot, you know.'
'I know. At least I think I do. I don't know all the details yet.'
One of the uniformed constables knocked softly at the half-open door before delivering a tray of coffee and biscuits.
'They're from downstairs, the biscuits, sir,' he said. 'We keep a few packets in, club together, like. Thought you might appreciate some.'
'Thank you, Constable Craig,' Gristhorpe said. 'Much appreciated. You on late duty tonight?'
'Yes, sir. Me and Susan Gay.'
There was something in the constable's clipped tone that prompted Gristhorpe to ask if anything was wrong.
'Well, sir,' Craig said, 'I don't mean to complain, but every time we're on duty together and something like this comes up-making coffee or delivering biscuits- she always manages to push me into doing it.' His face reddened. 'It's that blooming women's lib is what it is, sir.'
Gristhorpe laughed. 'It's what we call 'positive discrimination,' lad, and you'll just have to get used to it. Stick up for yourself. And I hope this coffee's a bit better than the usual muck we get around here.'
'It should be, sir,' Craig said proudly. 'A satisfied customer presented us with one of those automatic drip- filter things earlier this evening, sir. I went across to that fancy tea and coffee shop on King Street and got some fresh-ground Colombian beans.'
The superintendent turned his baby blue eyes on Craig. 'Did you, now? Not only accepting gifts from the public but playing truant, eh?'
'Yes, sir. Sorry, sir,' Craig replied, standing stiffly at attention.
'It's all right,' Gristhorpe said. 'Only joking, lad. Wherever it came from, it's most welcome. The chief inspectoral be able to drink it black. Off you go, lad.'
The coffee was good, the best they'd tasted in a long time, and Banks had a fondness for McVities' Chocolate Digestives. Gristhorpe was on yet another diet, though, and refused to give in to his sweet tooth.
'How's Mick Webster?' Banks asked.
'He'll live. Lost a lot of blood, but that tourniquet of yours did the trick.'
'His hand?'
'Lost two fingers, and the doc says he might lose another if surgery doesn't go well. Have you any idea where he got the gun from?'
'No. The first I heard of Webster was from Trevor Sharp earlier tonight. I think we should get a warrant and search his place.'
'It's already being done. That's where Richmond and Hatchley are now. If I were you, Alan, I'd go home, take care of my wife and get some sleep.'
'I want to talk to Sharp.'
'It'll wait, Alan.'
'No.'
'I can do it.'
'I started it, and I'd hate to have to begin all over again.'
Gristhorpe tapped a pencil on his blotter. 'You've got a point, I suppose. We don't want him fresh again after a night's sleep.'
'Does he know about Webster?'
'No.'
'Good.'
'Sure you're up to it?'
'Yes. I wouldn't get any sleep for thinking about it anyway.' Gristhorpe pointed toward the corridor. 'Interview room number three. I think Sergeant Rowe's still with them. He'll be worn out by now.'
III
Banks took his second cup of black coffee into the small interview room. Graham Sharp jumped to his feet. 'You can't keep us here like this,' he said. 'We've been cooped up here for hours. It's not a police state yet, you know.'
Banks sat down and spoke to Sergeant Rowe. 'You can go now, Sergeant. Could you send someone in to take notes? Constable Craig will do.'
He didn't speak until Craig arrived, then he lit a cigarette and took a long pull on his coffee.
'Right,' he said, looking at Trevor. 'We've got your mate Webster and he's told us all about your little capers.'
'You're lying,' Trevor said. 'You must think I'm stupid to fall for that one.'
'What one?'
'The one where the cops tell a suspect his accomplice has confessed and expect him to break down. I've seen it on telly.'
' 'Accomplice?' Accomplice in what?'
'It's just a word.' 'Yes, I kn6w. But words mean things. What's more, they imply things too. 'Accomplice' implies that you worked together in committing a crime.'
'I told you, it's just a word.'
'Stop beating around the bush,' Graham Sharp said. 'If we have to stay until you've finished, at least get on with it.'
'It's true,' Banks said to Trevor, and noticed that the boy had started to chew his bottom lip. 'He told us all about the break-ins-first the old ladies, then the Ottershaws and Thelma Pitt. He told us how he tried to stop you from raping her but you were like a mad dog. Those were his words, 'mad dog.' '
'He's a liar,' Trevor said.
'What do you mean, Trevor? That you weren't like a mad dog?'
'I didn't rape anybody.'
'Why would he lie? We found Thelma Pitt's jewelry in his house, and some bits and pieces from the other robberies.' Banks knew he was treading on very shaky ground by lying in the hope of getting a confession, but he
