Banks felt tired beyond revival. All the way home, something nagged at his mind, something about the Sharp interview. Trevor's reaction to the Alice Matlock business certainly confirmed his earlier suspicions, but that wasn't it, there was something else. It was no good trying to think, though, he decided. It would have to wait until tomorrow.
IV
Jenny and Sandra were still talking when Banks walked in the front door. They were drinking cocoa laced with scotch, and Sandra had lent Jenny one of her old dressing-gowns to wear.
'I thought you'd be in bed by now,' Banks said, hanging up his overcoat.
'We didn't feel like sleeping,' Sandra replied. 'But now you mention it, I do feel tired.'
'Me too,' Jenny echoed.
'I've made up the bed,' Sandra told her. 'I hope it's comfortable enough for you.'
'I could sleep on a slab of stone.' Jenny smiled and stood up. 'Good night, you two, and thanks very much.'
She went upstairs and Banks flopped down on the sofa beside Sandra. Again he had noticed a strange atmosphere between them, as if they were in a world that excluded him, but he was too tired to delve into it. About ten minutes later, they followed Jenny up and slipped between the sheets.
'What were you talking about?' he asked as they snuggled close.
'Oh, this and that.'
'Me?'
'A bit. Mostly what it felt like.'
'What did it feel like?'
'You'll never know.'
'You could try and describe it for me.'
'I don't want to go through it all again tonight, Alan. Some other time.'
'Maybe it felt something like being held up at gunpoint.'
'Maybe it did. I'll tell you something, though. It's very odd. I was terrified and I hated him, but afterwards I felt sorry for him. He was like a little child when I hit him, Alan. He was down on his knees. He'd dropped his knife, and he was like a child. I couldn't handle the feelings at the time. I was scared, angry, hurt, and I hit him. I wanted to kill him, I really did. But it was pathetic. He was like a child crying out for his mother.'
'You did the right thing,' Banks said, holding her and feeling her warm tears on his shoulder.
'I know. But that's what I mean when I said you'd never understand. You never could. There are some things men could never grasp in a million years.'
Banks felt shut out again, and it irked him that Sandra was probably right. He wanted to understand everything, and he had sympathy, feelings and imagination enough to do so, or so he had thought. Now Sandra was telling him that no matter how hard he tried, he could never fathom the bond that united her and Jenny and excluded him, simply because he was a man. They had both been victims, and he was a member of the sex that had the power to humiliate them. In a way, it didn't matter how gentle and understanding he was: he was guilty by association.
But perhaps, he thought, as he drifted into sleep, it was neither as important nor as devastating as it seemed at that moment. After all, he was tired out, and the evening's events had left their unassimilated residue in him, too. He was simply recognizing a chasm that had always existed, even before Sandra had been so abused. That unbridgeable gap had not interfered seriously with their happiness and closeness before, and it probably wouldn't do so in the future. The human spirit was a great deal more resilient than one imagined in one's darker moments. Still, the distance between them was more apparent now than ever, and it would have to be dealt with; he would have to make attempts to cross it.
He held Sandra tighter and told her he loved her, but she was already asleep. Sighing, he turned over and fell into his own dreamless darkness.
Chapter SEVENTEEN
I
When Banks met Robin Allott the next morning, he could see exactly what Sandra meant. He had expected to hate the man, but Robin, looking rather like a tonsured monk with the dressing fixed over the shaved center of his skull, was pathetic. Banks found it easy to detach himself and deal with him as he would with any other criminal. Richmond sat in the corner taking notes. 'What did the hospital say?' he asked.
Allott shrugged and avoided looking Banks in the eye. 'Not very much. They dressed the wound and sent me away with this.' He held up a card which explained how to handle patients with head wounds. 'I spent the rest of the night in your cells.'
'Want to talk?'
Allott nodded. The first thing he did was apologize. Then he confessed to all the reported peeping incidents in addition to several more that had gone either unnoticed or unreported by the victims.
There was, however, another important matter to discuss. The timing of Allott's peeping on Carol Ellis coincided almost exactly with Alice Matlock's late evening visitor, who, if he wasn't her killer, was the last person to see her alive. Banks asked him if he had seen anyone as he ran along Cardigan Drive.
'Yes,' Allott said eagerly. 'I liked Alice. I've been wanting to tell you but I couldn't find a way without… It's been torturing me ever since. At first I thought he would have reported me. Then when he didn't… I'm so glad it's all over. I tried to suggest it might not have been kids, that it might have happened some other way, when you came to talk to me.'
'I remember,' Banks said. 'But you didn't express the theory very forcefully.'
'How could I? I was scared for myself.'
'Who did you see?'
'It wasn't anyone I knew, but it was a man in his late thirties or early forties, I'd say. Medium height, slim. He had light brown hair combed back with a parting on the left.'
'What was he wearing?'
'A beige overcoat, I think. I remember it was a chilly night. And gloves. Fawn gloves.'
'Did you see where he came from?'
'No. He was by the end of Alice's house when I ran by on the other side of the street. You know, the end of the block that runs at right angles to Cardigan Drive. Gallows View.'
'So he was actually on Cardigan Drive, walking by the end house of Gallows View.'
'Yes. Just across the street from me.'
'And you got a good look at him?'
'Good enough. There's a street-lamp only yards from the junction.'
'Would you recognize him again?'
'Yes.'
'Are you sure?'
'Definitely.'
Jenny had asked if she could talk to Allott, and Banks had agreed, stipulating that he be present throughout the interview. When he had finished with his questions, he asked Richmond to call in at the interview room where she was waiting and send her along.
There was still something nagging at his mind. Though it often worked wonders on half-formed ideas, sleep had failed to solve the problem this time. It was like having the right word on the tip of his tongue but being unable to utter it. Jenny seemed to be making a deliberate effort to hide her beauty by wearing some very unflattering
