‘So you work as an escort?’
‘That’s not a word I would use. It has very negative connotations.’
‘But do you?’
‘I’m twenty-five years old, but I know I look younger. I was a student myself a few years ago. I know what it’s like trying to scrape by on a mere pittance. I went out with an older man. He was a very nice and a very cultured man, not at all like those spotty lecherous boys who hang around the student pubs. Just lonely. He paid for my company, took me places — the opera, art galleries, theatre, even to Paris for the weekend once. I met some of his friends and colleagues. That’s how I know there are plenty of men like Laurence Hadfield and Anthony Randall who are more than happy to pay a good deal of money to have the pleasure of an intelligent young woman’s company and conversation. If they decided to make it a sexual relationship too, that’s their business. They both seemed like decent men as far as I was concerned, certainly not men who would force themselves on a girl, though I wasn’t always too sure about Randall. Anyway, as I said, I don’t think I can tell you anything you don’t know. And I’ve done nothing to break the law.’
Banks smiled. ‘Except practise matchmaking without a licence?’
Mia smiled back. ‘Guilty as charged. But I just make the introductions. I don’t think that’s illegal, is it? What do you call someone who does that? A lobbyist? A facilitator?’
‘Whatever fancy terms you come up with, I still know what I call it,’ said Annie.
‘There you go again. Nasty. Judgemental. You must have a big chip on your shoulder, you know.’
‘Let’s move on to Adrienne and Sarah,’ Banks said quickly.
Mia shifted in her chair and pouted at him. ‘Let’s.’
‘Where did you meet the girls?’
‘I met Adrienne in the bar at Eastvale College and Sarah in the University of Leeds pub.’
‘You were pretending to be a student?’
‘I don’t remember ever doing that. I may have said I was an English student, but that’s true. I left after my second year and haven’t graduated, so I suppose I’m still technically an English student.’ She smiled again. ‘At the very least, I am English.’
‘Any plans to finish your course?’
‘Not in the near future.’
‘So what did you say to Adrienne and Sarah to get them interested in your proposition?’
‘I talked to them, found them both intelligent, articulate and presentable, so I told them I knew of a way they could make some extra money. Both were depressed about debts and fees.’
‘By sleeping with older men like Hadfield and Randall?’ said Annie.
‘By spending time with rich and influential — and lonely — men like Hadfield and Randall. How they spent it was up to them. Perhaps by attending parties and charming important guests, if they wished, though both Laurence Hadfield and Tony Randall were more secretive, wanted their relationships to remain private. I suppose Randall was worried about his ethics committees and whatever, and with Hadfield it was his family, the son and daughter.’
‘Did they go with only one man each?’
‘Yes, of course, as far as I know. That was the plan. I told Adrienne, Sarah and the others that I’d done it myself, and it had worked for me. It was all pretty harmless.’
‘Except both girls are dead,’ Banks said.
Mia looked down at her tapered fingers. For the first time, Banks thought he saw a hint of genuine emotion show through her slick, glib mask. ‘Yes. That’s sad. They were both nice girls. But it was nothing to do with me. I generally consider myself a good judge of character, but you know as well as I do that in certain extreme situations, you can’t always predict how things are going to turn out. People do desperate things.’
‘Is that what happened with Adrienne and Sarah?’
‘I don’t know what happened, but you said it yourself: both girls are dead.’
‘Do you know what Mandrax is?’ Annie asked.
Mariela frowned. ‘Never heard of it.’
‘Methaqualone? Quaaludes?’
‘Quaaludes? Downers of some sort, aren’t they? Why? I don’t take drugs.’
‘It’s what Adrienne Munro died of. Do you know where she got them from?’
‘How would I know that?’
‘Your friend Anthony Randall?’ Annie suggested.
‘Randall isn’t my friend, and I have never discussed anything remotely like that with him.’
‘Did he supply the drugs to Laurence Hadfield and Adrienne Munro? Did something go wrong? Was he involved in Adrienne’s death?’
‘Well, something obviously went wrong somewhere, but I doubt that Tony Randall had anything to do with supplying drugs. Don’t forget, he isn’t your typical NHS GP; he’s a world-renowned cardiothoracic consultant and surgeon, as he never tires of telling people.’
‘Can’t these rich and powerful men just have any woman they want?’ Banks asked.
‘Ah. If only it were as simple as that. But not these days. No. Besides, that only works with a certain type of woman. Girls like Adrienne, Sarah and the others are different — rare, natural beauties. Innocent, even. Yes, they need money — what student doesn’t — but they’re not gold-diggers, and they’re also bright as well as beautiful.’
‘Has Randall been in touch with you since last week?’
‘No. Why should he be?’
‘Well, you’re the only two left.’
Mia started playing with her gold chain. ‘What do you mean?’
‘We’ve managed to come up with links between you, Adrienne, Sarah, Laurence Hadfield and Anthony Randall. Three of them are dead, leaving you and Randall.’
‘But why would he want to get in touch with me?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Banks. ‘That’s why I’m asking. Unfinished business? Maybe you’ve got something on him, saw something you shouldn’t have. Something like that.’
‘Stop it. You’re making me nervous.’
‘OK, let’s move on. What can you offer that one of those online dating sites or escort agencies can’t?’
‘Personal service. Discretion. No internet footprints.’
‘Bright, attractive young girls for conversation,’ said Annie. ‘And for sex. Are these men you set the girls up with married?’
Mia sighed. ‘Hadfield and Randall, no. Some of them, maybe. I don’t ask. How they make their domestic arrangements is none of my concern.’
‘Do you give them special phones?’
‘They want privacy, so I give them dedicated phones. All part of the service. Only used to contact one another, or me.’
‘What’s in it for you?’ Annie went on. ‘What are your motives?’
‘Oh, I do well enough, thank you very much. As for my motives, you wouldn’t understand, but as I said before, I did it myself when I was a student, and I found it beat working behind the bar in the Original Oak or some similar pub, being pestered and groped by the managers and customers all bloody night.’ She dismissed Annie with a flick of her head and turned to Banks. ‘Not that it matters or anything, but I’m curious. How did you find me?’
‘You were pretty careful to cover your tracks, weren’t you?’ said Banks
‘I value my privacy.’
‘You were careless. You gave out your real phone number.’
Mia looked away. ‘Leila,’ she whispered. Then she went over to her cocktail cabinet and poured herself a large Courvoisier.
Banks didn’t confirm or deny it.
Mia sat down with her drink. ‘I knew I shouldn’t have done it,’ she went on. ‘But she was so... you’ve met her, I assume?’