silly.’
‘I can understand that,’ Banks said, ‘but it’s for me to decide what’s relevant and what isn’t.’
‘You pick up bits and pieces from everyone and put them together. Yes, I suppose that’s true. None of us gets to touch any more than a small area of the elephant, do we? But you get to see the whole beast.’
Banks smiled at the analogy. ‘Eventually, yes,’ he said. ‘I hope so. What are you working on, or don’t you like to discuss work in progress?’
‘I don’t mind. As a matter of fact, you’ve just given me an idea. All that about putting the pieces together. I think I can use it. It’s another in the Kenny Gibson series. Have you read any?’
Banks shook his head.
‘Of course not,’ Barker said. ‘I ought to know by now that few real policemen read detective novels. Anyway, Kenny Gibson is a private eye in the Los Angeles area. Period stuff, the thirties. I get most of my background information from Raymond Chandler and the old Black Mask magazines, but don’t tell anyone! This time he’s working for a rich society woman whose husband has disappeared. The plot’s taken care of; it’s the characters and atmosphere that are really hard to do.’
‘Sex and violence?’
‘Enough to sell a few thousand copies.’
‘Just out of interest,’ Banks asked as he got up to leave, ‘do you have it all planned out in advance – the plot, the solution?’
‘Good Lord, no,’ Barker answered, following him down the stairs. ‘The plot takes care of itself as I go along. At least I hope it does. If it’s going well, there are fewer and fewer options at each turn until it’s perfectly clear who the criminal is. I’m never really sure where I’m going from one day to the next. It’d be boring any other way, don’t you think?’
‘Perhaps,’ Banks answered, putting on his shoes and mac. ‘In writing, yes. In fiction. But in real life, I’m not so sure. It’d be a damn sight easier if I knew who the criminal was without having to write the whole book and make all the mistakes along the way. Anyway, goodbye, and thanks for your time.’
‘My pleasure,’ said Barker.
And Banks ducked quickly through the rain to his car.
TWO
On High Street, Banks glimpsed Penny Cartwright nipping into the Bridge. Consulting his watch and his stomach, he decided it was well past lunch time, and he could do with a pie and a pint if the landlord had any food left.
Penny was at the bar shaking her umbrella when she glanced over her shoulder and saw Banks enter.
‘Can’t a lady indulge her alcoholic cravings without the police turning up?’ she asked sharply.
‘Of course,’ Banks replied. ‘As a matter of fact, I’d be honoured if you’d join me for a late lunch.’
Penny looked at him through narrowed eyes. ‘Business or pleasure, Inspector?’
‘Just a chat.’
‘For “chat” read “interrogation”, I’ll bet. Go on then. I must be a fool. You’re buying.’
They were lucky enough to get two steak and mushroom pies and Penny asked for a double Scotch. Carrying the drinks, Banks followed her into the lounge.
‘Why don’t they do something with this place?’ he asked, looking around and turning his nose up.
‘Why should they? I wouldn’t have taken you for one of these horse-brass and bedpan types.’ Penny stood her umbrella by the fireplace and sat down, shaking her hair.
Banks laughed. ‘I always thought they were bed-warmers. And no, I’m not, not at all. Give me spittoons and sawdust any day. I was simply thinking that the owner might see renovations as a way to do more business in the long run.’
‘Oh, Inspector Banks! I can see you’re not a true Yorkshireman yet. We don’t care about a speck or two of dirt in these parts. It’s the company and the ale that count, and this is one place the locals can count on for both.’
Banks grinned and accepted the criticism with a humble sigh.
‘So what is it you want to know this time?’ Penny asked, lighting a cigarette and leaning back in her chair.
‘I enjoyed your performance last night. I liked the songs, and you’ve got a beautiful voice.’
Did she blush just a little? Banks couldn’t be sure, the lighting in the room was so dim. But she faltered over accepting the compliment and was clearly embarrassed.
The pies arrived and they each took a few bites in silence before Banks opened the conversation again.
‘I’m stuck. I’m not getting anywhere. And now there’s a girl gone missing.’
Penny frowned. ‘Yes. I’ve heard.’
‘Do you know her? What do you think might have happened?’
‘I know Sally a little, yes. She always wanted to know about the big wide world out there. I think she was secretly a bit disappointed with me for leaving it behind and coming home. But she struck me as a sensible girl. I can’t really picture her running off like that. And she was born and raised in these parts, like me. She knows the countryside around here like the back of her hand, so she wasn’t likely to get lost either.’
‘Which leaves?’
‘I don’t like to think about it. You hear of young girls going missing so often in the cities. But here…’ Penny shuddered. ‘I suppose it could mean we’ve got a maniac in our midst. What are the police doing, apart from buying me lunch?’
It was the second time Banks had been asked that, and he found it just as depressing to have so little to say in reply again. But Penny understood about the weather; she knew how dangerous it made Swainsdale, and she showed a surprising amount of sympathy for Banks’s obvious frustration.
They sat in silence again and returned to their food. When they had finished, Banks put his knife and fork down and faced Penny.
‘Tell me about your father,’ he said.
‘You sound like a bloody psychiatrist. What about him?’
‘You must know better than anyone else what a hothead he is?’
‘I probably gave him reason enough.’
‘You mean the city, the wild life?’
She nodded. ‘But honestly, you make it sound much worse than it was. What would you do in that position? Everything was new. I had money, people I thought were my friends. It was exciting then, people were trying new things just for the hell of it. My father didn’t speak to me for a long time after I left. I couldn’t explain; it was just too claustrophobic at home. But when I came back he was kind to me and helped me to get set up in the cottage. He takes it upon himself to act as my protector, I know. And yes, he has a temper. But he’s harmless. You can’t seriously suspect him of harming Harry, can you?’
Banks shook his head. ‘Not any more, no. I think it was too well planned to be his kind of crime. I just wanted to know how you saw things. Tell me more about Michael Ramsden.’
Flustered, Penny reached for another cigarette. ‘What about him?’
‘You used to go out with him, didn’t you? Can I have one of those?’
‘Sure.’ Penny gave him a Silk Cut. ‘You know I used to go out with him. So what? It was years ago. Another lifetime.’
‘Were you in love?’
‘In love? Inspector, it’s easy to be in love when you’re sixteen, especially when everybody wants you to be. Michael was the bright boy of the village, and I was the talented lass. It was one match my father didn’t oppose, and he’s always held it against me that we didn’t marry.’
‘Did you think of marrying?’
‘We were talking about getting engaged, like kids do. That’s as far as it went. Look, I was young and innocent. Michael was just a boy. That’s all there is to it.’ Penny shifted in her seat and pushed her hair back over
