“I thought you’d stopped that,” Annie said.
“I had,” said Banks. “It’s only a temporary return.”
“I hope so.”
“Why do you want to see me?”
“Have you heard about the woman found dead in the car near Eastvale?”
“I’ve read about it in the paper,” Banks said, “but they haven’t really given out much information.”
“Her name is Jennifer Clewes. Do you know anyone by that name?”
“No,” said Banks.
“Guess what we found in the back pocket of her jeans?”
“I’ve no idea.”
“An address.”
“Whose address?”
“Yours.”
Banks’s jaw dropped. “What? I can’t… What’s her name again?”
“Jennifer Clewes.”
“I’ve never heard of her. What’s it all about?”
“We don’t know yet. She had your address and directions written on a slip of paper in her back pocket, in her own handwriting,” Annie went on. “The directions were to the damaged cottage. It looks as if it has been broken into. You can imagine what a flap it created up there, finding your name and address on a victim’s person. Superintendent Gristhorpe decided to sit on it until Monday.” Annie could see that Banks was thinking furiously, trying to make things connect. “Come on, Alan, give,” she said. “You know something. What is it?”
“I don’t know anything. I’m telling the truth. I’ve never heard of the girl.”
“But you know something. I can tell.”
“It’s complicated.”
“I’ve got time.” Annie was feeling a little tipsy from the wine, but what the hell, she thought, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Maybe you can start,” she went on, “by telling me what you’re doing here. Last I heard, you and your brother were hardly on the best of terms.”
“He’s disappeared,” Banks said.
“What?”
Banks told her about Roy’s phone call and the empty, unlocked house.
“Have you reported this?”
Banks said nothing, just stared over her shoulder out of the window.
“You haven’t, have you?”
“Why does everyone keep going on about it so?” said Banks, with a sudden flash of anger. “You know as well as I do how much effort we’d put into looking for a missing adult when he’s been gone less than forty-eight hours. I’ve probably done more myself than the locals would have.”
“Who are you trying to convince? Listen to yourself. There are suspicious circumstances and you know it. You told me he said it was a matter of life and death.”
“Might be a matter of life and death.”
“Fair enough, you want to split hairs. I’ll say no more right now, but don’t forget it might be your brother’s life you’re playing fast and loose with. For Christ’s sake, Alan, you shouldn’t even be here.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“Oh, sometimes I just wish you’d grow up. You might be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but, quite frankly, you’re still a mess. You’ve done nothing but paperwork for the past few months, you’ve barely spoken to a soul, you rarely bother to shave, you need a haircut, and you’re half-pissed most of the time. I was in your flat. I’ve seen how you live.” There was no point going on at him, Annie knew. She just had to let her frustration out from time to time.
“What put you in such a good mood?” Banks said.
Annie just shook her head. “Look, I know you’re concerned,” she went on in a softer tone. “I know you’re worried about your brother, but you’ve got to stop being so stubborn. For his sake as well as your own.”
“You’re probably right,” Banks said, “but look at it from my point of view. I’m worried they might find out a few things about Roy our parents would rather not know, and I know there’s no way they’ll let me work on the case if it becomes official. Besides, how can I know the job’s being done properly if I don’t do it myself?”
“Sometimes I wonder how you made DCI,” Annie said. “Such skills of delegation.”
Banks laughed. Annie was surprised, and it broke the tension.
“Are you sure you’ve never heard of Jennifer Clewes?” she went on. “You’ve no idea why she should have your address in her pocket?”
“There’s a Jenn in Roy’s mobile call list.”
“That’s what her friends called her.”
“Wait here a minute.” Banks disappeared upstairs. Annie sipped more wine and looked around the kitchen. Expensive, she thought, especially for a room that didn’t get used much. Banks soon returned with a bulging folder under his arm, sat back down and started flipping through pages.
“Do you have her phone number?” he asked.
“Her mobile’s missing, but I got the number from her flatmate.” Annie read out the number from her notebook. It was the same one Banks had on Roy’s call list.
“My God,” said Annie. “So there definitely is a connection between Jennifer Clewes and your brother Roy.”
“Corinne was right. He did have a new girlfriend.”
“Corinne?”
“Roy’s fiancée. Ex-fiancée.”
“From now on, this is official,” Annie said. “I’m going to have a word with DI Brooke about your brother’s disappearance. He won’t be happy.”
“Suit yourself,” said Banks.
“Look,” Annie went on, trying to placate him, “you know you’re too personally involved to be assigned to the case – either case – but that doesn’t mean you can’t be of some use.”
“On whose terms?”
Annie managed a thin smile. “Well, it’s not as if anyone’s going to be keeping tabs on you twenty-four hours a day, is it? As long as we stay on the same page.”
Banks nodded. “I suppose that’s the best I can hope for.”
“All I ask is that you share with me. Any sign of a Carmen Petri on that list, by the way?”
“Carmen? I don’t remember one. It’s an unusual name. Let me have a look.” Banks glanced through the list of names. “No,” he said. “Why? Who is she?”
“I don’t know,” said Annie. “The name just turned up in one of my interviews. So how do you think it all connects?”
“Let’s review what we know.”
“The way it looks is that someone was watching Jennifer’s house in Kennington on Friday evening,” said Annie. “Maybe other evenings, too, that week. Waiting for her. We don’t know why. One witness has already confirmed there was a dark blue car parked near her flat with two men inside around the time she set off, one in the front and one in the back, and he’d seen it there before. The same car – or at least we think it’s the same car – was seen at the Watford Gap service station, where Jennifer stopped to eat and fill up with petrol. It cut off another driver pulling in right behind her when she left. The only half-decent description we have is of the man in the back – muscular, with a ponytail.”
“Is that the man who killed her?”
“We don’t know, but it’s the best lead we’ve got so far. Stefan’s working overtime on the scene. Unfortunately the pursuing car wasn’t scratched or anything, so we’ve no paint chips to go on.”
“But why would Roy send this woman to see me? Why not come himself?”
“I don’t know. Her flatmate said Jennifer received a phone call around a quarter to eleven that Friday and left right after. Said it shook her up a bit. Did your brother sound worried when he heard the doorbell?” Annie asked.
“No,” said Banks. “I’ve thought a lot about that, and he sounded fine. I mean, if he’d been worried it was someone come to do him harm he wouldn’t have answered it, would he? He’d probably have tried to scarper out of the back window. Besides, the bloke across the street said Roy just locked his door and got into the car with his visitor as if things were quite normal.”
“So what do you think happened?”
“I’ve been trying to piece together the events of that day,” Banks said. “The way I see it is that Roy comes home just before half past nine, from where I don’t know, but something has upset him. He puts his mobile on the kitchen table, or it’s already there, pours himself a glass of wine and goes up to his office to check phone messages, e-mail, or whatever. He takes the wine with him. Maybe he sits and mulls things over for a minute or two, then he decides that whatever it is he’s found out is worth calling his estranged policeman brother about. Maybe he even senses that he’s in danger because of something he knows. Anyway, he phones me and tells me he needs my help. While he’s on the phone, the doorbell rings. He answers it and goes off in a car with whoever it is. Willingly, it appears. And he forgets his mobile, even though he’s given me the number. I’d say that means he’s more than a little distracted.”