Banks nodded towards the painting that had engaged his attention. ‘I couldn’t help but notice, but is that really what I think it is?’
Lady Chalmers’ eyes widened. ‘Why, surely you don’t think we’d allow any forgeries in our house, do you? Yes, it is. A genuine Hockney. It was a wedding present, actually.’
‘You know Hockney?’
She gave an enigmatic smile. ‘Our paths crossed briefly in Los Angeles, many years ago. My first husband was an artist. Now Hockney’s come back home again, of course. Bridlington.’ Her expression took on a note of sadness. ‘It is such a beautiful painting, though, don’t you think? The positions of their bodies, the sense of space, the expressions on their faces. It says it all. The distance, the yearning.’
She sounded wistful, and Banks had the strangest feeling, as he glanced over at the painting again, that the woman in the couple was her, perhaps with her first husband. It wasn’t an exact likeness, of course, but there was just something about it, the features, the bearing. He quickly dismissed the idea. ‘Absolutely stunning,’ he said. ‘It reminds me of a story I read about Joan Collins, I think it was, or maybe Jackie. Anyway, she said she loved one of Hockney’s paintings of a swimming pool, but she couldn’t afford the painting, so she bought the swimming pool instead.’
Lady Chalmers laughed. ‘I haven’t heard that.’ She gestured towards the painting. ‘Of course, I would never have been able to afford the painting.’ She paused, then went on, head tilted to one side as she observed Banks closely. ‘I must say, you intrigue me. A policeman who knows something about art.’
‘I don’t know very much, I’m afraid. It’s not my main area of interest, I have to confess. You’d have to meet my DI for that. I’m more of a music aficionado.’
‘Of course.’ She clapped her hands together. ‘Alan Banks. I should have known. The policeman with the rock musician son. I’ve read about you in the local newspaper. Samantha, my youngest, absolutely adores the Blue Lamps.’
‘My fame precedes me, clearly,’ said Banks. ‘I’m Brian Banks’s father, yes, for my sins.’ Though he liked to complain about it to his son, Banks was secretly proud to be the father of such a popular and accomplished musician. And the Blue Lamps were doing well. They’d had songs on CSI, Grey’s Anatomy and House, the line-up had settled down, and Brian was doing most of the songwriting. They had also been nominated for, though not won, a Mercury Award, there was a gig on Later... With Jools Holland coming up, and their third CD had made the charts. With any luck, Brian would be keeping Banks in his old age.
At that moment, Oriana came in with the silver tea service, all poise and smiles.
‘This is Alan Banks, Oriana,’ said Lady Chalmers. ‘Brian Banks’s father.’
Oriana’s loam-brown eyes widened. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you.’
‘Oriana’s a big fan, too,’ Lady Chalmers explained as Oriana walked away. ‘But she’s probably too embarrassed to say so. I don’t know what I’d do without her,’ she whispered when Oriana had left the room. ‘She takes care of everything.’
It must be nice to have someone who takes care of everything for you, Banks thought, especially someone as lovely as Oriana.
‘By the way,’ Lady Chalmers went on, ‘Jem and I are attending a function in Harrogate with your chief constable next weekend.’
‘Be sure to give him my regards.’ Banks picked up his cup and saucer carefully. ‘I’m afraid I wasn’t invited.’
Lady Chalmers didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Must have been an oversight.’
‘It’s all right, anyway,’ said Banks. ‘I have a previous engagement.’ They looked at each other and started to laugh.
‘I suppose I should let you get around to business and ask you why you’re here, shouldn’t I?’ said Lady Chalmers into the silence after the laughter had subsided.
‘It’s a minor matter, really,’ said Banks, ‘and I was hoping we could clear it up quickly and easily.’
‘I suppose I should get nervous when a policeman says it’s a minor matter. Like when a doctor says it. It’s usually the prelude to something cataclysmic.’
‘Hardly, in this case. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but a man was found dead on the disused railway line up around Coverton early Monday morning.’
Lady Chalmers frowned. ‘I do believe I heard something about it on the news. But how can I possibly help?’
‘Does the name Gavin Miller mean anything to you?’
‘It sounds vaguely familiar. Is that the name of the person you just mentioned... the dead man?’
‘Yes. Naturally, we’ve been trying to find out all we can about him, and one of the things we discovered was that he telephoned this house a week ago Monday, just before two o’clock in the afternoon. Do you remember that call?’
Lady Chalmers put her hand to her chest. ‘Here? Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Someone did ring that Monday afternoon, just after lunch, asking for money. Something to do with the alumni society. Said he was from the university. His name may have been Miller. I must confess, I wasn’t paying much attention. I already give quite generously to my alma mater. I try to maintain close connections.’
‘Which university was that?’
‘Essex.’
‘What did he want to talk about?’
‘What do alumni people usually talk about? Donations, scholarships, that sort of thing. He was very chatty. I must say, it was hard to get him off the line.’
‘But you didn’t know him? He hadn’t called you before?’
‘No, never.’
‘You see, the phone call went on for nearly seven minutes. That seems rather a long time to deal with a request for alumni donations, especially when you’ve already given at the office, so to speak.’
‘I suppose it does, when you put it like that. But I assure you that’s all it was. Seven minutes? Are you sure?’
‘Was Oriana here?’
‘No, she has Mondays off. She visits her grandfather in a care home near Malton. I’m afraid I was quite alone. Is that a problem?’
‘I shouldn’t worry about it. I’m sure there’s a simple explanation. How did Gavin Miller get your number? It’s ex-directory, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. I have no idea. I should imagine it’s easy enough if anyone really wanted it. The university might even have it on file, I suppose.’
‘They probably do.’ Banks made a mental note to check with Gerry. He took the photograph of the old, haggard Gavin Miller that Liam had given him and showed it to Lady Chalmers. ‘Do you recognise this man? Have you ever seen him?’