THREE

Chief Inspector Banks! Have you any news?’

‘No news,’ Banks said. ‘Maybe a few questions.’

‘Come in.’ Veronica Shildon led him into her front room. It looked larger and colder than it had before, as if even all the heat from the fiercely burning fire in the hearth couldn’t penetrate every shadowy corner. Two small, threadbare armchairs stood in front of the fire.

‘Christine Cooper let me have them until I get around to buying a new suite,’ Veronica said, noticing Banks looking at them. ‘She was going to throw them out.’

Banks nodded. After Veronica had taken his coat, he sat in one of the armchairs and warmed himself by the flames. ‘It’s certainly more comfortable than a hard-backed chair,’ he said.

‘Can I offer you a drink?’ she asked.

‘Tea would do nicely.’

Veronica brewed the tea and came to sit in the other armchair, placed so they didn’t face each other directly but at an angle that required a slight turning of the head to make eye-contact. The fire danced in the hollows of Veronica’s cheeks and reflected like tiny orange candle flames in her eyes.

‘I don’t feel I thanked you enough for letting me come to London with you,’ she said, crossing her legs and sitting back in the chair. ‘It can’t have been an easy decision for you to make. Anyway, I’m grateful. Somehow, seeing Ruth Dunne gave me more of Caroline than I’d had, if you can understand that.’

Banks, who had more than once spent hours with colleagues extolling the virtues and playfully noting the faults of deceased friends, knew exactly what Veronica meant. Somehow, sharing memories of the dead seemed to make them live larger in one’s mind and heart, and Veronica had had nobody in Eastvale to talk to about Caroline because nobody here had really known her.

Banks nodded. ‘I don’t really know why I am here, to tell the truth,’ he said finally. ‘Nothing I learned in London really helped. Now it’s early evening on a cold January day and I’m still no closer to the solution than I was last week. Maybe I’m just the cop who came in from the cold.’

Veronica raised an eyebrow. ‘Frustration?’

‘Certainly. More than that.’

‘Tell me,’ she said slowly, ‘am I… I mean, do you still believe that I might have murdered Caroline?’

Banks lit a cigarette and shifted his legs. The fire was burning his shins. ‘Ms Shildon,’ he said, ‘we’ve no evidence at all to link you to the crime. We never have had. Everything you told us checks out, and we found no traces of blood-stained clothing in the house. Nor did there appear to be any blood on your person. Unless you’re an especially clever and cold-blooded killer, which I don’t think you are, then I don’t see how you could have murdered Caroline. You also appear to lack a motive. At least I haven’t been able to find one I’m comfortable with.’

‘But surely you don’t take things at face value?’

‘No, I don’t. It’s a simple statistic that most murders are committed by people who are close to the victim, often family members or lovers. Given that, you’re obviously a prime suspect. There could have been a way, certainly, if you’d been planning the act. There could also be a motive we don’t know about. Caroline could have been having an affair and you could have found out about it.’

‘So you still think I might have done it?’

Banks shrugged. ‘It’s not so much a matter of what I think. It’s maybe not probable, but it certainly is possible. Until I find out exactly who did do it, I can’t count anybody from Caroline’s circle out.’

‘Including me?’

‘Including you.’

‘God, what a terrible job it must be, having to see people that way all the time, as potential criminals. How can you ever get close to anyone?’

‘You’re exaggerating. It’s my job, not my life. Do you think doctors go around all the time seeing everyone as potential patients, for example, or lawyers as potential clients?’

‘Of the latter I’m quite certain,’ Veronica said with a quiet laugh, ‘but as for doctors, the only ones I’ve known get very irritated when guests ask their advice about aches and pains at cocktail parties.’

‘Anyway,’ Banks went on, ‘people create their own problems.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Everyone lies, evades or holds back the full truth. Oh, you all have your own perfectly good reasons for doing it – protecting Caroline’s memory, covering up a petty crime, unwillingness to reveal an unattractive aspect of your own personality, inability to face up to things or simply not wanting to get involved. But can’t you see where that leaves us? If we’re faced with several people all closely connected to the victim, and they all lie to us, one of them could conceivably be lying to cover up murder.’

‘But surely you must have instincts? You must trust some people.’

‘Yes, I do. My instincts tell me that you didn’t kill Caroline, but I’d be a proper fool if I let my heart rule my head and overlooked an important piece of evidence. That’s the trouble, trusting your instincts can sometimes blind you to the obvious. Already I’ve told you too much.

‘Does your instinct tell you who did kill her?’

Banks shook his head and flicked a column of ash into the fire. ‘Unfortunately, no. Gary Hartley confessed, in a way, but…’ He told her what had happened in Harrogate Veronica sat forward and clasped her hands on her lap as he spoke.

‘The poor boy,’ she said when he’d finished. ‘Is there anything I can do?’

‘I don’t think so. He’s undergoing psychiatric tests right now. But the point is, whatever he did do, he didn’t kill Caroline. If anything, towards the end, when he knew the full story, he felt pity for her. It was his father he turned on, with years of pent-up hatred. I still can’t imagine what torture it must have been for both of them. The old man unable to help himself, unable to get out of bed, starving and lying in his own waste; and Gary downstairs getting drunk and listening to the feeble cries and taps growing fainter, knowing he was slowly killing his own father. Banks shuddered. ‘There are some things it doesn’t do to dwell on, perhaps. But none of this gets us any closer to Caroline’s killer.’

‘It’s the “why” I can’t understand,’ Veronica said. ‘Who could possibly have had a reason for killing Caroline?’

‘That we don’t know.’ Banks sipped some tea. ‘I thought it might have had something to do with her past, but neither Ruth Dunne nor Colm Grey, the father of her child, had anything to do with it. Unless there’s a very obscure connection, such as a dissatisfied customer come back to wreak revenge, which hardly seems likely, all we can surmise is that it was someone she knew, and someone who hadn’t planned to kill her.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘There was no sign of forced entry, and the weapon, it just came to hand.’

‘But she didn’t know many people,’ Veronica said. ‘Surely that would be a help.’

‘It is and it isn’t. If she didn’t know many people very well, then how could she offend someone so much they’d want to kill her?’

‘Why do you say offend? Maybe you’re wrong. Perhaps she found out something that someone didn’t want known, or she saw something she shouldn’t have.’

‘But according to what everyone tells me – yourself included – she wasn’t acting at all strangely prior to her death. Surely if something along those lines was bothering her she should have been.’

Veronica shook her head. ‘I don’t know… she could have been holding back, pretending… for my sake.’

‘But you didn’t get that impression? Your instinct didn’t tell you so?’

‘No. Then, I never known whether to trust my instincts or not. I’ve made mistakes.’

‘We all have,’ Banks said. ‘But you’re right to consider other motives. We shouldn’t overlook the possibility that someone had a very practical reason for wanting her out of the way. The problem is, it just makes the motive harder to get at, because it’s less personal. Let’s say, to be absurd, that she saw two spies exchanging documents. In the first place, how would she know they were doing anything illegal, and in the second, how would they know she was a threat?’ He shook his head. ‘That kind of thing only happens in books. Real murders are much simpler, in a way – at least as far as motive is concerned – but not necessarily easier to solve. Gary Hartley might have had a deep-seated reason to kill his sister, but he didn’t do it Your estranged husband had a motive, too. He blamed Caroline for the separation. But he seems happy enough in his new life with Patsy. Why would he do anything to ruin that? On the other hand, who knows what people really feel?’