Maybe I'll even try an afternoon nap and hurry it along.'
'So it's not all over?'
'Not yet.'
'And our intrepid chief inspector won't rest until it is?' Banks smiled. 'Something like that. I'll tell you one thing, though. When I moved up to Yorkshire, I sure as hell expected a softer time of it than this.'
II
Back at the station an excited Sergeant Hatchley came rushing to meet Banks. 'We've got him!' 'Who?'
'Lenny Webster. The fence. Mick's brother.' Banks grinned. 'So London came through, then?'
'Didn't they just? Paid him a visit in the middle of the night at that address we got from the letter.'
'Yes?'
'And sure enough, he was there. Babysitting an assortment of drugs-marijuana, cocaine, uppers, downers, even some heroin.'
'Enough to put him away for a while?'
'Enough to put him away for a long while, sir.'
'I'll bet he was intending to bring it all back up here to sell, am I right?'
'Exactly. And there's more.'
'Go on.'
'It seems that young Lenny's not as tough as he makes out, if you know what I mean. In fact, a little heavy leaning and he breaks down completely. First off, they've got the bloke who gave him the gun, and they found three more at his place-not duff ones, mind you. And next, Lenny sings all about his plans with Micklethwaite.'
'Moxton.'
'Pardon?'
'That's his real name. Moxton. Larry Moxton.'
'Oh. Well, Webster knows him as Micklethwaite, and they were going to unload the stuff between them. Also, Micklethwaite put him onto the Ottershaw and Pitt jobs.'
'Right, we'd better bring Larry in then, hadn't we?'
'Do you think we've got enough to nail him?'
'I think so, if we add it to what Thelma Pitt and Ottershaw have to tell us. What puzzles me is how a con man like Larry could get mixed up with a low-life thug like Webster.'
'That's explained in the telex,' Hatchley said. 'Apparently it's through the chap who was getting the drugs for them. He'd served time with Micklethwaite, and when he heard he was going to relocate up north he put him in touch with Lenny.'
'Ah, the old-boy network. Right little den of thieves we've caught, haven't we?'
Hatchley beamed, his red balloon-face glowing with success.
'Aye, we have that, sir. Oh, I almost forgot. There's a woman waiting in your office for you.'
'Not…'
'No, not that Wycombe woman. I've never seen this one before. Wouldn't say who she was. Wants to see you, though.'
Curious, Banks poked his head around the office door. It was Mrs. Allott, Robin's mother.
'What's all this nonsense about my son Robin?' she asked, puffing herself up. Banks took a deep breath and sat down. It was the last thing he needed, another irate parent.
'Your son has been charged on several counts of voyeurism, Mrs. Allott, and on one count of attempted rape. He threatened a woman at knife-point. That woman happened to be my wife.'
Mrs. Allott's tone altered not a jot. 'Always look after your own, you coppers do. Well, you've got the wrong man this time. My Robin wouldn't hurt a fly.'
'Perhaps not,' Banks conceded, 'but he's behaved very badly toward women.'
'Who saw him, then? How many witnesses have you got?'
'We don't need witnesses, Mrs. Allott. Your son gave us a full confession.'
'Well, you must have sweated it out of him. You must have got the rubber hose out.'
Banks got to his feet. 'Mrs. Allott, it's a cut-and-dried case. There's nothing more to be said about it. If you'll excuse me, I've got work to do.'
'He was with me,' she persisted. 'All those times you say he was snooping on women he was with me. I've looked after him ever since that bitch of a wife ran off and left him, the no-good hussy. I warned him about her, I did. Told him she'd only bring trouble.'
'Why don't you give a list of the dates and times your son was with you to the desk sergeant, then we'll see if we can match them with the incidents. I have to repeat, though, it's no use. Your son has already confessed.'
'Under duress, I'm sure. He can't have done those things you say he did.'
'I can assure you that-he did do them.'
'Then that wife of his drove him to it.'
'Make up your mind, Mrs. Allott. How could he be driven to do things you said he didn't do?'
'He was with me,' she repeated firmly.
Banks couldn't be bothered to tell her that, in addition to her son's confession, he also had Sandra's statement. It was futile. Robin's innocence was fixed in her mind, and that was that. No amount of reason would change her opinion. She would even lie on the witness stand to save him.
'Look,' Banks said in as kind a tone as he could manage, 'I really do have a lot of work to do. If you'd care to give the dates to the sergeant at the front desk…'
'I'm not going to be soft-soaped like that. You're not going to fob me off with some menial. I demand my rights.'
She was clinging as tight as a limpet and Banks was nearing the end of his tether. Brusquely, he picked up a clean sheet of paper and took out his pen.
'All right, then. The dates?'
'I can't remember the exact dates. What do you think I am, a computer? He's always at home. You know, you've seen him there. He helps me take care of his dad.'
'I saw him there once, Mrs. Allott. And he was expecting me. Are you telling me he's at home every night?'
'Yes.'
'Including Tuesdays?'
She thought for a moment, a wary expression flickering over her pinched face. 'Tuesdays. He goes to the Camera Club on Tuesdays. With his friends. Any of them will tell you what a good boy he is.'
Banks could think of one who certainly wouldn't, but he said nothing. In fact, Mrs. Allott's presence began to recede far into the distance as the subject of his recent brooding came slowly into focus. She had given him an idea. It still wasn't fully formed yet, and he wasn't sure what to do about it, but the lens was definitely closing in.
He forced his attention reluctantly back to the business at hand.
'So what you're telling me, Mrs. Allott, is that every night of the week except Tuesdays, Robin was with you from the moment he left work till the moment he went again the next morning?'
'That's right.'
'He never went out?'
'No.'
'All right,' Banks said, losing interest in her lies again as his idea came into sharper focus. 'I'll get somebody to take your statement, Mrs. Allott. You can go home now.'
She got to her feet and flapped out of the office.
Almost as soon as she had slammed the door, Banks forgot her. He reached for a cigarette, asked Craig to
