‘Did he have rivals?’
‘Professionally, yes. The universities are full of them.’
‘Could he have uncovered something that someone might wish to keep quiet?’
Ramsden thought for a moment, his sharp chin resting in his bony hand. ‘You mean the unsavoury past of a prominent family, that kind of thing?’
‘Anything.’
‘It’s an interesting theory. I can’t say for certain one way or the other. If he had discovered something, he didn’t tell me. It’s possible, I suppose. But we’re a long way from the Industrial Revolution. You’d have to dig back a very long way if you want to find a descendant of someone who made his fortune by exploiting child labour, for example, which wasn’t entirely uncommon back then. I don’t think there are many direct descendants of the Romans around who still have anything to hide.’
Banks smiled. ‘Probably not. What about enemies, academic or otherwise?’
‘Harry? Good Lord, I shouldn’t think so. He wasn’t the kind to make enemies.’
Again, Banks refrained from stating the obvious. ‘Do you know anything about this business with Teddy Hackett?’ he asked.
Ramsden glanced sharply at him. ‘You don’t miss much, do you?’ he said. ‘Yes, I know about it, for what it’s worth. There’s a field in Helmthorpe over the river near the cricket pitch – it’s called Crabtree’s Field because it used to belong to a farmer named Crabtree. He’s long dead now, though. There’s a small bridge which connects the field with the campsite on the other side, and Hackett wants to provide more “facilities” for the campers – by which he no doubt means junk food and video games. You must have noticed the increasing Americanization of the English countryside, Chief Inspector. McDonald’s seems to be springing up everywhere now, even in places as small as Helmthorpe. Harold had good reason to suppose – and I’ve heard his evidence – that there was once a Roman camp there. It could be a very important discovery. He was trying to persuade the local authorities to protect it for excavations. Naturally, that caused a bit of friction between Harry and Teddy Hackett. But they remained friends. I don’t think it was a serious quarrel.’
‘Not serious enough to lead to murder?’
‘Not in my opinion, no.’ Ramsden turned sideways again and looked out over the river at the shining Minster towers. ‘They were quite close friends, though God knows why, seeing as their views on just about everything were always diametrically opposed. Harry enjoyed a good argument for its own sake – that was the academic in him – and Hackett is at least a fairly intelligent, if not a very tasteful, adversary. I’m afraid you’ll have to ask Harry’s friends in the village how serious the quarrel was. I didn’t get over there often enough. I suppose you’ve met the good doctor and the resident scribbler?’
Banks nodded. ‘Do you know them?’
‘A little. Not very well, though. As I said, I don’t get to Helmthorpe as often as I’d like. Doc Barnes has been around as long as I can remember, of course. And I’ve had one or two beery evenings in the Bridge. Naturally there was quite a bit of excitement when Jack Barker moved to Gratly three or four years back, but it soon settled down when he proved to be much like everyone else.’
‘Where did he come from? What made him choose Gratly?’
‘Haven’t a clue, I’m afraid. I have a vague notion he’s from somewhere in Cheshire, but I couldn’t swear to it. You’ll have to ask him.’
‘Did he know Mr Steadman before he moved to Gratly?’
‘Not as far as I know. Harry never mentioned him.’
‘Does your company publish his books?’
‘Lord, no.’ Ramsden made curious snuffling noises through his nose, and Banks took the sound for laughter. ‘I told you what we specialize in. I believe Barker writes paperback originals.’
‘Did Mr Steadman ever say anything about Dr Barnes or Jack Barker?’
‘He said a number of things, yes. What do you have in mind?’
‘Anything odd. Did he ever tell you anything about them that you thought they might not want to be common knowledge?’
‘Are you trying to suggest that Harry was a blackmailer?’
‘Not at all. But if he did know something, they weren’t to know what he’d do with the knowledge, were they? You say he was a decent upright man – fair enough. If he knew of anything illegal or immoral anyone was involved in, what do you think he would have done?’
‘I see what you mean.’ Ramsden tapped a yellow pencil on his bottom teeth. ‘He’d have done the right thing, of course. Gone to the authorities. But I still can’t help you. He never indicated to me that either Barker or Barnes had ever been involved in anything untoward.’
‘What about Penny Cartwright?’
‘What about her? Harry certainly never spoke ill of Penny.’
‘What about your relationship with her?’
Ramsden paused. ‘I’m not sure it’s any of your business.’
‘Up to you,’ Banks said.
‘It was all a long time ago. There was certainly nothing odd about it. I don’t see how knowing can possibly help you.’
Banks kept silent.
‘Oh, what the hell, then,’ Ramsden said. ‘Why not? I told you – we were good friends, then we drifted apart. We were both in London at roughly the same time, but we moved in very different circles. She was a singer, so she hung around with musicians. She was always a bit of a rebel, too. You know, had to be different, embraced all the causes. She made a couple of records and even toured in Europe and America, I believe. It was traditional folk music they played – at first, anyway – but they jazzed it up with electronic instruments. Then she got tired of life in the fast lane and came home. Her father forgave her and she settled into her cottage. Apart from the old man getting a bit overprotective now and again, she more or less gets on with her own life. Still sings a bit around the local pubs, too.’
‘What’s her father like?’
‘The major? To do him justice, he never really recovered from his wife’s death. He’s a strange old bird. Lives right on High Street with his dog. Has a flat over old Thadtwistle’s bookshop. There were rumours, you know, when Penny left. Look, I’m not sure I should be telling you this. It’s just silly local gossip.’
‘I shouldn’t worry about that, Mr Ramsden. I know a hawk from a handsaw.’
Ramsden swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. ‘People said they were a bit too close, father and daughter, living together after the mother died. They say the old man wanted her to take her mother’s place in his bed and that’s why she took off so young. Do you know what I’m saying? It’s not entirely uncommon around these parts.’
Banks nodded. ‘Do you believe it?’
‘Not for a moment. You know how vindictive gossip can be.’
‘But what did anyone have against the Cartwrights?’
Ramsden picked up his pencil again and started rolling it between his fingers. ‘People thought they were a bit stuck-up, that’s all. The major’s always been stand-offish, and his wife wasn’t from around these parts. People in the dale used to be a lot more parochial than they are now so many outsiders have moved in. Even now most of them think of Penny as some kind of scarlet woman.’
‘You were close to her. Did she say anything?’
‘No, she didn’t. And I think she would have done if anything unusual had been going on.’
‘Was she friendly with Mr Steadman?’
‘Yes, they were very good friends. Penny knows a lot about folk traditions through her music, you see, and Harold was always willing to learn. She even taught him some guitar. Also, she was very disorientated for a while after she came back from her brush with fame and fortune, and I think Harry’s support meant a lot. He thought the world of her. They both loved going for long walks, watching birds and wild flowers, talking about the past.’
There was plenty to follow up in that, Banks thought. But he had no more questions to ask. He already had more than enough information to digest and analyze.
He thanked Ramsden, said goodbye and walked back over the sluggish Ouse to his car.
He stopped at the first likely-looking village inn he saw and enjoyed a late, leisurely pub lunch of shepherd’s
