“So it would seem. Did he ever suggest abducting young girls?”
“Do you seriously believe that I’d have anything to do with that sort of thing?”
“I don’t know, Geoff. You tell me. He talked to you about tying them up and fucking their brains out, and he certainly raped that teacher in Blackpool, no matter how willing she might have been to have regular sex with the two of you earlier. I don’t know what to think of your part in all this, Geoff, to be quite honest.”
Brighouse had lost all his color now, and he was trembling. “But you can’t think that I…? I mean…”
“Why not? There’s no reason you couldn’t have been in it with him. More convenient if there were two of you. Easier to abduct your victims. Any chloroform in the lab?”
“Chloroform? Yes. Why?”
“Under lock and key, is it?”
“Of course.”
“Who has a key?”
“I do. Terry. Keith Miller, the department head, Mr. Knight. I don’t know who else. Probably the caretaker and the cleaners, for all I know.”
“Whose prints do you think we’d find on the bottle?”
“I don’t know. I certainly can’t remember the last time I used the stuff.”
“What did you do last weekend?”
“Not much. Stayed home. Marked some projects. Went shopping in town.”
“Got a girlfriend at the moment, Geoff?”
“No.”
“See anyone else over the weekend?”
“Just neighbors – you know, people from the other flats, in the hall, on the stairs. Oh, and I went to the pictures Saturday night.”
“On your own?”
“Yes.”
“What did you go to see?”
“New James Bond, in the city center. And then I dropped in at my local.”
“Anyone see you?”
“A few of the regulars, yes. We had a game of darts.”
“How late were you there?”
“Closing time.”
Banks scratched his cheek. “I don’t know, Geoff. When you get right down to it, it’s not much of an alibi, is it?”
“I wasn’t aware I’d be needing one.”
The lab door opened and two boys poked their heads in. Geoff Brighouse seemed relieved. He looked at his watch, then at Banks, and gave a weak smile. “Time for class, I’m afraid.”
Banks stood up. “That’s all right, Geoff. I wouldn’t want to interfere in the education of the young.”
Brighouse beckoned the boys in, and more followed, swarming around the stools at the benches. He walked with Banks over to the door.
“I’d like you to come down to Millgarth and make a statement,” Banks said before leaving.
“A statement? Me? But why?”
“Just a formality. Tell the detective exactly what you just told me. And we’ll also need to know exactly where you were and what you were doing at the times those five girls were abducted. Details, witnesses, the lot. We’ll also need a fingerprint scan and a sample of DNA. It won’t be painful, just like brushing your teeth. This evening after school will do fine. Say five o’clock? Go to the front desk and ask for DC Younis. He’ll be expecting you.” Banks gave him a card and wrote down the name of the bright, if rather judgmental, young DC he had that very second chosen for the task of taking Brighouse’s formal statement. DC Younis was active in his local Methodist Chapel and a bit conservative, morally. “Cheers,” said Banks, leaving a stunned and worried-looking Geoff Brighouse to teach his class the joys of unstable sodium.
9
Pat Mitchell took a break when Jenny turned up at the bank, and they walked to the café in the shopping center over the road, where they sipped rather weak milky tea as they talked. Pat was a vivacious brunette with damp brown eyes and a big engagement ring. All she could do at first was shake her head and repeat, “I still can’t believe this. I just can’t believe this is happening.”
Jenny was no stranger to denial, either as a psychologist or as a woman, so she made sympathetic noises and gave Pat the time to compose herself. Once in a while, someone from one of the other tables would give them a puzzled look, as if he or she recognized them but couldn’t quite place them, but for the most part the café was empty and they were able to talk undisturbed.
“How well do you know Lucy?” Jenny asked when Pat had stopped crying.
“We’re pretty close. I mean, I’ve known her for about four years, ever since she started here at the bank. She had a little flat then, just off Tong Road. We’re about the same age. How is she? Have you seen her?” All the time she talked, Pat’s big brown eyes continued to glisten on the brink of tears.
“I saw her this morning,” Jenny answered. “She’s doing well. Healing nicely.” Physically, anyway. “What was she like when you first met?”
Pat smiled at the memory. “She was fun, a laugh. She liked a lark.”
“What do you mean?”
“You know. She just wanted to enjoy herself, have a good time.”
“What was her idea of a good time?”
“Clubbing, going to pubs, parties, dancing, chatting up lads.”
“Just chatting them up?”
“Lucy was… well, she was just funny when it came to lads back then. I mean, most of them seemed to bore her. She’d go out with them a couple of times and then she’d chuck them.”
“Why do you think that was?”
Pat swirled the grayish tea in her cup and looked into it as if she were seeking her fortune in the leaves. “I don’t know. It was as if she was waiting for someone.”
“Mr. Right?”
Pat laughed. “Something like that.” Jenny got the impression that her laugh would have been a lot more ready and frequent had it not been for the circumstances.
“Did she ever tell you what her idea of Mr. Right was?”
“No. Just that none of the lads around here seemed to satisfy her in any way. She thought they were all stupid and all they had on their minds was football and sex. In that order.”
Jenny had met plenty of lads like that. “What was she after? A rich man? An exciting one? A dangerous one?”
“She wasn’t interested in money particularly. Dangerous? I don’t know. Maybe. She liked to live on the edge. Back then, like. She could be quite over-the-top.”
Jenny made some notes. “How? In what way?”
“It’s nothing, really. I shouldn’t have spoken.”
“Go on. Tell me.”
Pat lowered her voice. “Look, you’re a psychiatrist, right?”
“Psychologist.”
“Whatever. Does that mean if I tell you something it goes no further? It stays between you and me and nobody can make you name your source? I mean, I wouldn’t want Lucy to think I’d been talking out of turn.”
While Jenny might have some valid defenses for not turning over her patients’ files without a court order, in this instance she was working for the police and couldn’t promise privacy. On the other hand, she needed to hear Pat’s story, and Lucy would probably never find out about it. Without resorting to an outright lie, she said, “I’ll do my best. I promise.”
Pat chewed on her lower lip and thought for a moment, then she leaned forward and gripped her teacup in both hands. “Well, once she wanted to go to some of those clubs in Chapeltown.”
“West Indian clubs?”
“Yes. I mean, most nice white girls wouldn’t go near places like that, but Lucy thought it would be exciting.”
“Did she go?”
“Yes, she went with Jasmine, a Jamaican girl from the Boar Lane branch. Of course, nothing happened. I think she might have tried some drugs, though.”
“Why? What did she say?”
“She just hinted and did that, you know, that knowing sort of thing with her eyes, like she’d been there and the rest of us had only seen it on television. She can be quite unnerving like that, can Lucy.”