‘What was his name? Do you remember?’
‘Colin. Colin Fairfax.’
‘Was he in the same department as Adrienne?’
‘I don’t really know... I don’t think so. I think he was studying languages. French, German and so on.’
‘Did Adrienne still keep her job at the animal shelter after she was awarded the scholarship?’
‘Oh, yes. But that was never really for the money — they hardly paid more than a pittance — it was just to help the poor animals, and to be with them. She’d have done it for nothing. And it was only on weekends.’
‘Would you happen to have a recent photograph of her we could borrow? It may help us when we’re talking to people.’
Brenda Munro walked over to the rows of framed photographs on a table beside the TV set and picked one out. ‘This was taken just last year,’ she said, as she took the photograph from its frame. It showed Adrienne leaning against a farm gate with Crow Scar in the background. She was wearing jeans and trainers, and her blond hair didn’t hang quite as far over her shoulders as it had when she died. But she was clearly an attractive young woman with a shy smile. Banks thanked Mrs Munro and slipped it in his briefcase.
‘We’ll take good care of it,’ he said.
‘Don’t worry too much’, said Brenda. ‘Jim can always print another copy. I’m sorry he’s not up yet.’
‘Never mind. We’ll leave you be for now,’ Banks said. ‘Thanks for your time. And let me say again how sorry I am about Adrienne.’
‘You’ll find out who did it, won’t you?’ Brenda said, grasping his arm.
Banks extricated himself gently. ‘We don’t know that anyone has done anything to anyone yet,’ he said, ‘but you can take my word for it, we’ll do our best to find out what happened.’
Brenda nodded.
Banks gave Winsome a quick glance and she put away her notebook. They said their goodbyes, offered more condolences, then left.
‘Anything in it, guv, the father not appearing?’ Winsome asked as they drove along the A66.
‘I doubt it,’ said Banks. ‘Bloody exhausted, I should imagine. We’ll talk to him later.’
Wherever they went next, he thought, it would have to be tomorrow. When he looked at his watch, he realised he’d just about have time to get home, phone Tracy, then shower and change before Annie stopped by to pick him up and drive him over to Ray and Zelda’s for dinner.
3
As Banks’s Porsche needed a little work and wouldn’t be ready until the following afternoon, Annie picked him up at Newhope Cottage at seven o’clock, as arranged, and they drove down the hill though Helmthorpe, across the bridge over the River Swain and about halfway up the opposite dale side to the village of Beckerby. Ray and Zelda’s cottage stood on the northernmost edge of the village, separated from the far end of the High Street by a field of grazing sheep on one side and wooded area on the other. Banks could actually see the place from Gratly Beck, just outside his front door.
As she drove, Annie slipped a CD in her car stereo and suddenly she was singing along with Neil Diamond’s ‘Sweet Caroline’.
‘What the bloody hell’s this?’ asked Banks.
Annie turned in her seat and grinned at him. ‘Payback,’ she said.
Ray had bought the cottage in summer, mostly for the view and the quality of light, which were hardly in evidence on that late November night. On a clear day, Banks knew, he could see as far east as Eastvale and as far west as the Swainshead viaduct. But the old place had needed a lot of work. All autumn, Ray had been travelling to and from Cornwall, where he had been living in an artists’ colony since Annie was born, in order to oversee the various builders, carpenters, plumbers and electricians and make sure everything was exactly the way he wanted it. Finally, just two weeks ago, he had declared it fit for habitation and had driven up with the last of his belongings.
And Zelda.
‘So we’ve got two suspicious deaths,’ Annie said, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel in time with the music. ‘Probably not so far apart in timing, though we’ve no idea who died first. And both bodies were found formally dressed in improbable locations without any visible means of getting there. Oh, and neither was carrying any of the usual personal possessions or identification. Interesting.’
‘Indeed,’ said Banks. ‘A three-pipe problem, perhaps?’
‘Do you think they could be connected?’
‘Normally I’m suspicious of coincidences, but we’ve got a long way to go yet before we start to speculate about anything like that. You and Gerry keep working on your mystery man, and Winsome and I will carry on investigating what happened to Adrienne Munro. We’ll have regular meetings to pool information. And don’t forget, in neither case do we have any evidence of foul play.’
‘You’re saying they could have been accidents?’
‘I’m saying that Adrienne Munro could have committed suicide, and your man could have fallen down the gully in the bad weather.’
Banks settled back in his seat and felt some of the weight of his cares slip away as they approached the village of Beckerby. It had been a difficult day, and he knew he would never get rid of the images of the dead Adrienne Munro lying there on the post-mortem suite slab, that it would join the other exhibits in his own personal chamber of horrors, and would parade before him unbidden in those dark nights of the soul that seemed to come more often these days.
He made an effort to put the business as far out of his mind as he could. Neil Diamond singing ‘Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon’ provided some distraction, however unwelcome. He was looking forward to a fine dinner, decent wine and, best of all, entertaining conversation. It would be good to get to know Zelda better. He realised he didn’t really know very much about her at all.
The music would be a treat, too, better than what he was listening to now. Ray was an old sixties guy, like Banks himself, only he had never expanded his horizons to include classical music and jazz, so tonight it was going to be the real thing all the way.
Annie drew to a halt outside the low-roofed cottage — Ray’s only complaint was that it was a bit small after the spread he had enjoyed in Cornwall for so many years — and they both stood still and took in the silence punctuated only by the occasional late bird call and whistling wind for a few moments before knocking at the door. Despite the chill, it was another clear evening, the sky studded with stars and the half-moon shining bright.
Ray Cabbot opened it and ushered them into the hall. Annie gave her father a hug and Ray and Banks shook hands.
‘Drinkies, anyone?’
‘G&T, please,’ said Banks.
‘Not for me,’ said Annie, slipping off her coat. ‘Designated driver.’
Ray hung it up for her beside Banks’s. ‘You can always stop over.’
‘I don’t plan on getting pissed. Besides, I have to drop Alan off at home.’
Ray scratched his head. ‘Well, golly gee, we’ve only got one small spare bedroom but you’re both welcome to it,’ he said with a big grin.
Annie thumped his arm. ‘Stop it, you’ll embarrass me.’
‘Embarrass? You? If pigs could fly.’
Annie grinned at him. ‘I’ll have a glass of wine with dinner later and that will be my limit.’ She rubbed her hands together. ‘A bit brisk out there.’
‘Go through to the living room,’ said Ray. ‘The fire’s lit. Zelda’s just doing some last-minute fiddling with dinner.’
The room was lit by dozens of candles on the low tables, mantelpiece, everywhere, and a log fire crackling in the hearth. The paintings on the walls appeared ghostly in the candlelight. Ray’s studio was upstairs, Banks knew, in what would have been a large front bedroom, facing the stunning southern view and catching plenty of light.