A gentle gust of wind blew through the center, carrying the smells of espresso and fried bacon from the café. “Two more things,” Banks said. “First, in the time you lived with your husband, did you ever come across any acquaintances, say, or clients of his whom you’d describe as shady?”

She laughed. “Oh, a tax lawyer has plenty of shady clients, Chief Inspector. That’s what keeps him in business. But I assume you mean something other than that?”

“Yes. If Daniel did have anything to do with Keith Rothwell’s death, he certainly didn’t commit the murder himself, as you pointed out.”

“That’s true. The Daniel I know wouldn’t have had the stomach for it.”

“So he must have hired someone. You don’t usually just walk into your local and say, ‘Look chaps, I need a couple of killers. Do you think you could help me out?’”

Melissa smiled. “You might try it at a Law Society banquet. I’m sure you’d get a few takers. But I see what you mean.”

“So he might have known someone who would consider the task, and it might have been someone he met through his practice. I doubt very much that the two of you socialized with hit-men, but there might be someone who struck you as dangerous, perhaps?”

“Who knows who we socialized with?” Melissa said. “Who knows anything about anyone, when it comes right down to it? No one immediately springs to mind, but I’ll think about it, if I may.”

“Okay.” Banks passed on Alison Rothwell’s vague description of the two men, especially the one with the puppy-dog eyes, the only distinguishing feature. “I’ll be at the Holiday Inn here for the next day or so, or you can leave a message with Detective Inspector Blackstone at Millgarth.”

“Is he the one who came over last night with my bodyguard?”

“No, that’s Detective Sergeant Waltham. I don’t honestly believe you’re in any danger, Mrs. Clegg – I think they’re probably miles from here by now – but it’s best to be on the safe side. Are you happy with the arrangement?”

“I didn’t really understand all the fuss at first, but after what you’ve just told me I’ll sleep easier tonight for knowing there’s someone out there watching over me.” She looked at her watch. “Sorry, Mr. Banks. Time’s pressing. You said you had two things to ask.”

“Yes. The other is a bit more personal.”

Melissa raised her eyebrows. “Yes?”

“I mean personal in the true sense, not necessarily embarrassing.”

She frowned, still looking at him. It was a strong, attractive face with its reddish tan and freckles over the nose and upper cheeks; every little wrinkle around her gray-blue eyes looked as if it had been earned.

“We think Daniel Clegg has probably done a bunk with a lot of money,” Banks began. “Enough to set him up for life, otherwise these goons wouldn’t be so keen on finding him. But it’s a bloody big world if you don’t know where to look. The two of you shared your dreams at one stage, I suppose, like most married couples. Where do you think he would go? Where did he dream of living?”

Melissa continued to frown. “I see what you mean,” she murmured. “That’s an interesting question. Where’s Danny’s Shangri-la, his Eldorado?”

“Yes. We all have one, don’t we?”

“Well, Danny wasn’t much of a dreamer, to tell you the truth. He didn’t have a lot of imagination. But whenever he talked of winning the pools and packing it all in, it was always Tahiti.”

“ Tahiti?”

“Yes. He was a big fan of Mutiny on the Bounty. Had every version on video. I think he liked the idea of those barebreasted native girls serving him long, cool drinks in coconut shells.” She laughed and looked at her watch again. “Look, Mr. Banks, I’m sorry, but I really do have to go now. I’ve got a hell of a day ahead.” She pushed her chair back and stood up.

Banks stood with her. “Of course,” he said, shaking her hand.

“But if I can be any more help, I’ll get in touch. I mean it. I never thought Danny was capable of real evil, but if what you say is true… ” She shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll give what you said some thought. I… just a minute.”

Her brow furrowed and she turned her eyes up, as if inspecting her eyelashes. She looked at her watch again, bit her lip, then perched on the edge of the chair, knees together, clutching her briefcase to her chest. “There was someone. I really can’t stay. I’m going to be late. I can’t think of the name, but I might be able to remember if you give me a bit of time. He did have those sort of sad eyes, like a puppy, now I think of it.”

Banks sat forward. “What were the circumstances?”

“I told you Danny doesn’t do criminal work, but he is a solicitor, and apparently he was the only one this chap knew. According to Danny, they met in a pub, had a few drinks, got talking. You know how it is. This chap had been in the army or something, over in Northern Ireland. When he got himself arrested, Danny was the only one he knew to call on.”

“What happened?”

“Danny referred him to someone else. I only remember because he came round to the house once. He wasn’t too happy about the solicitor Danny passed him on to for some reason. I think it might have been the fee or something like that. They argued a bit, then Danny managed to calm him down. They had a drink, then the man left. I never saw or heard of him again. I’m sorry, I didn’t really hear what was going on. Not that I’d remember now.”

“How long ago was it?”

“A little over two years. Shortly before we separated.”

“And you remember nothing more about this man?”

“No. Not off-hand.”

“What pub did they meet in?”

“I can’t remember. Isn’t that odd? You mentioning about meeting a killer in a pub? What if it was him?”

“What was he arrested for?”

“It was something to do with assault, I think. A fight. I know it wasn’t really serious. Certainly not murder or anything. Look, I really must go. I’ll try and remember more, I promise.”

“Just one thing,” Banks said. “Can you remember the name of the solicitor your husband referred him to? We might be able to trace him through our records.”

She compressed her lips in thought for a moment, then said, “Atkins. Of course, it would have been Harvey Atkins. He and Danny are good friends, and Harvey does a fair bit of criminal work.”

“Thank you,” Banks said, but she was already dashing away.

“I’ll be in touch,” she called over her shoulder.

Banks headed for the staircase. While he had been talking with Melissa Clegg, he had remembered what it was that had been nagging at him all morning. He decided to satisfy his curiosity before meeting Ken Blackstone. Things were moving fast.

Chapter 12

1

“Take the scenic route,” said Sergeant Hatchley. “We’re not in a hurry.”

Instead of going east to the A1 at the roundabout by the Red Lion Hotel, Susan headed southwest along the edge of the Dales through Masham, Ripon and Harrogate.

Hatchley didn’t smoke at all during the journey, though he insisted she stop once at a café in Harrogate for a cup of coffee, during which he chain-smoked three cigarettes. It was very different from travelling with Banks. For a start, Banks liked to drive, and with him there was always music, sometimes tolerable, sometimes execrable. Hatchley preferred to sit with his arms crossed and look out of the window at the passing scenery, no doubt with visions of bare breasts flashing through what passed for his mind.

She wished she didn’t have to work with men all the time. One crying jag or sharp response, and it was PMT; a day off for any reason meant it was “that time of the month.” She had to put up with it without complaint, just take it all in her stride.

Maybe she was being unfair, though. Hatchley aside, the men she worked with were mostly okay. Phil Richmond, with whom she spent the most time, was a sweetheart. But Phil was leaving soon.