Mostly the paperwork was a matter of signing memos to say he’d read them, then putting them back in their envelopes and posting them in the internal mail system again. Boring work, but the music helped. Garcia’s solo on ‘Scarlet Begonias’ was a joy to hear. In fact, any version of ‘Scarlet Begonias’ was guaranteed to lift Banks’s mood, no matter what menial task he was doing at the time.
Winsome knocked and entered during ‘Morning Dew’, an old favourite, and he reluctantly turned down the volume. Rather than have her sit across from him at the large work desk, they adjourned to the low glass coffee table and low-slung tube chairs. Winsome got out her notebook.
‘Busy day?’ Banks asked.
‘But fruitful, guv. Very fruitful.’
‘I’m all ears.’
‘First and easiest stop was the bursar’s office. No scholarship.’
‘You mean she lied to her parents?’
‘Well, I suppose she had to explain why she wasn’t hitting them up for money somehow. It wouldn’t make any difference to Luke Stoller, or to Neela.’
‘I suppose not. So where did the money come from?’
‘Your guess is as good as mine. Apparently she paid her fees directly out of her bank account. I’ve put a request in for her banking records for the last two years, but you know what they’re like. They take their time.’
‘OK, keep at them. Find out who deposited the money, and how. Cheque, electronic transfer, cash? So... she paid her own fees. Anything else?’
‘Well, that’s about it from the bursar. Next, I paid a visit to the student health centre.’
‘And?’
‘Nothing. They were a bit tougher, but luckily one of the nurses there is Jamaican, and she comes from a village not so far from me, so she was quite happy to tell me that Adrienne Munro had not availed herself of their services in either her first or her second year, except for a minor ear infection last February, for which the doctor prescribed a course of antibiotics. That was all. She balked at the mere suggestion they would hand out sleeping pills to students. They’re quite aware of problems with teen and student suicides and what have you. I must say, it seemed to me you’d have to have the signature of the Surgeon General to get a bloody Valium out of that lot, let alone a sleeping pill.’
Banks laughed. ‘Well, I suppose it’s good to know they’re in control of the situation. It doesn’t do us much good, though, does it? We still don’t know where the pills came from.’
‘Students usually manage to find drugs when they want them.’
‘I suppose so,’ Banks agreed.
‘I talked to Steph Dobyns from the drugs squad. They don’t know about anyone selling sleeping pills at The Cellar Club or any other of the student hangouts. Seems the market’s still mostly for E, a little coke and the occasional amphetamine. They want to stay awake, not fall asleep.’
‘Another blank.’
‘I made one more visit.’
‘Where to?’
‘Darlington. The animal welfare shelter.’
‘There’s a good chance that a place like that would stock some sort of animal tranquillisers, isn’t there? Jazz Singh is still working to identify exactly what pills Adrienne took.’
‘Apparently, they don’t,’ Winsome said. ‘They leave that sort of stuff to the vets. What’s interesting, though, is that no one there has seen Adrienne since summer.’
‘What? You mean she hasn’t been working weekends there?’
‘That’s right, guv. It surprised everyone because she loved her job, loved working with the animals. Was very good at it, too, so everyone told me.’
‘Did she just quit?’
‘Didn’t turn up. Not a word.’
‘When?’
‘Second week of term. She’d put a bit of time in over the summer and seemed set on carrying on with weekends like before, but...’
‘Now that is definitely strange. Everyone believed that’s where she spent her weekends. Her parents. Neela.’
‘I know. She’s been lying to them all. I talked to the girl Paula, the friend she sometimes stayed with in Darlington on weekends. She hasn’t seen or heard from Adrienne for weeks.’
‘So what was she doing?’
‘We don’t know. I also checked with Steph, and DI MacDonald over at criminal intelligence. They’ve got nothing on Adrienne Munro or any of her friends as far as drugs are concerned. Remember those names Neela mentioned?’
‘I remember,’ said Banks.
‘I managed to get a few more details out of the bursar’s office. They’re Jessica Mercer, Cameron Macrae, Chloe Sharma and Callum O’Brien. I ran them through the system. None of them have as much as a traffic offence or drunk and disorderly against them. And Steph says she knows quite a few of the Eastvale students do E, but this lot doesn’t come up in any of their more serious drug offence intelligence.’
‘So nothing?’
‘Clean records all. Including Colin Fairfax.’
‘Didn’t Neela mention someone called Mia?’
‘She did. But there’s no trace of a Mia anywhere in the college records.’
‘Odd. Maybe it was a nickname? Or perhaps she wasn’t a student? You do get a few townies hanging about now and then.’
‘And sometimes it’s the townies who bring in the drugs,’ said Winsome.
‘Well,’ said Banks, ‘we seem to be developing a bit of a narrative here. A bright, attractive young woman dumps her “nice” boyfriend for no apparent reason, lies about a non-existent scholarship and a weekend job, even to her best friend, has mood changes, seems a bit anxious, distracted, even apprehensive, isn’t doing so well at her course work, doesn’t hang out with her friends like before. There’s something we’re missing here. The question is, what’s it all adding up to?’
‘Drugs,’ said Winsome. ‘Neela admitted that they did E once in a while, but it could have become more serious than that. For Adrienne, at any rate. It’s not a great stretch from that to maybe selling some E. Other stuff, too. We know there’s a drug problem at the college, and we know the big city gangs use kids as mules to get the stuff into rural areas.’
‘Check out this mysterious Mia a bit more. Perhaps she’s the connection, the catalyst, setting up a pipeline then disappearing into the background. See if you can find out anything about her.’
Winsome nodded. ‘Will do, guv.’
‘What about the ex-boyfriend, Colin Fairfax? You said he’s clean, too, right?’
‘As a whistle. I did a more in-depth check on him. No form. Good student. Fine cricketer, too, apparently. He’s in the modern languages department. Last lecture is two to three this afternoon. After that, he can usually be found in the student pub.’
Banks glanced at his watch. ‘What are we waiting for, then?’
‘I suppose I was just trying to pretend to myself that it wasn’t Daddy,’ said Poppy, dabbing at her eyes. ‘That he was really all right, you know. I don’t care what you think of me, maybe I am a total fuck-up, but I did love him.’ She put the handkerchief to her eyes again, now smeared black with mascara. When Annie realised the genuineness of her grief, she relented and went back to the bar and bought her a double gin and tonic along with another Diet Coke for herself. One or two people were staring at them now, but Annie ignored them. Poppy took a swig then set the drink down, gave Annie a ghost of a smile and whispered, ‘Thank you.’
Annie also found herself feeling sorry for Poppy because she was clearly going to have to deal with her father’s death on her own. Ronald Hadfield turned out to be unavailable. According to his personal assistant, he was in Tokyo for a series of important business meetings and wouldn’t be back until after the weekend. The PA said she would attempt to contact him about his father, but even if he dropped everything right now, it would still take some time to arrange flights and get back. Then there was the time difference. ‘Tell me about your father,’ Annie said.