‘Or “Ode on a Grecian Urn”.’
‘ “Tintern Abbey”.’
‘ “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard”.’
People turned to look at them laughing.
‘Anyway,’ Banks said when their laughter died down. ‘She sounds like a complicated person, this Akhmatova.’
‘I think she was. But fascinating. She certainly fascinated men.’
That made Banks think of Zelda, who had first mentioned Akhmatova to him. He told Linda a bit about their dinner the other night. He didn’t feel he could tell her anything about Zelda’s government work, but he talked about her sculpture, her excitement at moving up to Yorkshire and her interest in the arts.
‘I’d like to meet her,’ Linda said when he’d finished.
‘I’m sure it could be arranged.’
‘I already know Ray Cabbot. The local arts scene is pretty incestuous. But this Zelda is a more recent and exotic arrival.’
‘Then consider it a done deal. I’ll talk to them. We’ll work something out. Dinner or drinks or something.’ Banks felt pleased with himself. He had never considered himself a social arranger, but it felt good to think he was putting two people in touch, people he was certain had something in common, and could possibly even become good friends.
‘Fantastic.’
‘Shall we risk another one or call it a day?’
Linda glanced at her watch. ‘Oh, bugger it,’ she said. ‘Let’s have another. You can tell me all about your latest case.’
When Annie arrived at the hotel, a listed building in a discreet backstreet off the market square, she found Poppy in handcuffs, bedraggled and penitent, sitting beside her suitcase in the lounge, a burly uniformed constable on either side of her. She was wearing jeans and knee-high boots, and an afghan jacket over a torn black T-shirt with a picture of Courtney Love sticking her tongue out. Poppy’s long blond hair was greasy and straggly, and it looked as if it hadn’t been washed for a while. Though her features were drawn and she had bags under her eyes, she gave off the aura of a little girl lost. A chambermaid was busy clearing up the mess Poppy had made of the reception area, dirt, dead flowers and shattered pottery all over the floor.
Annie took a deep breath. At least the Panadol was working now, and her headache had receded to a dull and distant thumping in time with the beating of her heart.
‘What’s going on?’ she asked PC Kingsley. ‘Why is this woman in handcuffs?’
‘It was the only way we could restrain her, ma’am,’ said Kingsley. ‘She was going berserk, smashing things, threatening all sorts of—’
Annie held her hand up. ‘OK. Enough. Did she actually assault anyone?’
‘Well, no, not exactly, but—’
‘Then uncuff her.’
Kingsley swallowed. ‘Ma’am?’
‘You heard what I said. Uncuff her. This young woman has just lost her father. She’s bereaved. Whatever she’s done, I’m sure we can put it right.’ She glanced around at the reception area. ‘It’s nothing but cosmetic damage as far as I can see. I’m sure Ms Hadfield will be more than happy to pay for replacements for any objects she broke, and offer compensation for any inconvenience.’
The manager came up wringing his hands. ‘But what about the other guests, the trauma, the—’
‘I’m sure they’ll get over it, Mr...?’
‘Shadwell. Edgar Shadwell. I’m the night manager. I should have gone home ages ago, when my shift ended, but—’
‘Thanks for staying and helping take care of things,’ Annie said, showing him her warrant card. Then she gently led him over to a part of the lobby where they couldn’t be overheard. ‘What exactly did Ms Hadfield do?’ she asked.
‘It all started about three in the morning. She telephoned the front desk and demanded room service. She wanted a cheeseburger and a bottle of vodka. We don’t have twenty-four-hour room service here, so I’m afraid the poor lad on reception had to say no.’
The cognac bribe obviously hadn’t lasted long, Annie thought. ‘And then?’
‘She didn’t take it well. She came storming down with her bathrobe half open, yelling at the top of her voice, waking all our guests, scaring the living daylights out of them. That’s when I came out of my office to see what was happening. She had a cigarette in her mouth, too, and we’re strictly a non-smoking hotel. Tim on the desk explained that we don’t have a kitchen on the premises. We use the restaurant next door for all our orders, you see, and they were closed, of course. As for the vodka, well, it was clear that she’d had more than enough already. We did manage to calm her down. Tim gave her a couple of extra minibar vodkas and she went back up to her room. Then it all started again this morning, when she refused to pay. That was when she became... well, you can see. Quite abusive. Quite violent.’
‘Of course. It’s all my fault, Mr Shadwell, and I do hope you’ll accept my apology.’
‘Your fault? Bu... b... b... but I don’t understand. How could it be your fault?’
‘I had to choose a hotel for Ms Hadfield very quickly, in the wake of her father’s sudden death. She couldn’t remain in the family home. I thought this place would suit her needs, but I obviously overestimated the hotel and underestimated her needs. I should have chosen one of the larger establishments.’
‘I don’t think you overestimated us, Inspector Cabbot. We do our best to keep our guests happy here at the Swan. We even go out of our way. But there are some things... limits...’
‘Yes, I quite understand. We’ll get it all sorted. Would you pass on the bill for the damages to me at Eastvale Police HQ? I’ll see that Ms Hadfield gets it and pays it.’
‘Of course. But you do understand—’
‘I do. But I’m afraid we have to go now. Once again, I apologise.’
Annie went back to Poppy and took her by the arm. Poppy didn’t complain or resist, she simply stood and picked up her suitcase with her free hand. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked.
‘I don’t know yet,’ said Annie between clenched teeth. ‘But the first thing is to get you away from here.’
‘The sooner the better,’ said Poppy, rallying, her voice rising. ‘What a dump. I’m considering suing.’
Annie practically shoved her through the front door, annoyed that her mobile rang just as they reached her car down the street. ‘Yes?’ she answered, a trifle sharply.
‘Ooh, are we in a bit of a mood this morning?’
It was Frank Naylor from the search team at the Hadfield house. Annie knew Frank from the occasional departmental booze up. He was one of the good guys. At least he had never tried to grope her in a dark corner at the Christmas party.
‘What is it, Frank? I don’t have time for this. I’m in a hurry.’
‘You sound a bit hoarse. Not getting that cold that’s going around, are you?’
‘No. What is it, Frank?’
‘Ah. You’re hungover, aren’t you? Tell Uncle Frank the truth.’
‘Well, it is only half past ten on a Saturday morning,’ Annie said. ‘And I do happen to have been up late at a good friend’s birthday party last night, so, yes, you might reasonably come to that conclusion. Now what the hell do you want?’
Frank laughed down the line. ‘OK. No need to take it out on me. What you do in your own time and all that.’
‘Frank!’
‘All right, all right. There’s been a development here.’
‘What sort of development? Where?’
‘The Hadfield house. We’ve found something.’
‘What are you doing working weekends?’
‘We’re spread a bit thin, these days. And there’s still a bit of overtime left. Anyway, it’s probably better if you come and see it for yourself.’