‘Did he harm you or threaten to harm you in any way?’
‘No. Nothing like that. He simply disappeared from my life. I never saw him again.’
‘After the trouble with the college?’
‘Yes. After he lost his job. He was desperate for someone to believe in him. He thought that someone was me. I probably let him down.’
‘Did you bear a grudge against him?
‘Good Lord, no. What are you getting at? It was me who dumped him, you know.’
‘Did you ever visit him in Coverton?’
‘No. I haven’t seen him since that time he came over to see me. He was still living in a poky flat in Eastvale then.’
‘Did he ever ask you for money?’
‘No. Never.’
‘The girl who accused Gavin Miller of sexual misconduct said that he told her he would fix a test result for her if she had sex with him. Does that sound right to you? Do you think he would do something like that?’
‘How can you expect me to answer a question like that?’
‘I’m only asking whether you think it’s likely. Do you think he might resort to coercion, given the opportunity? Do you think that perhaps exerting power in that way over a woman might arouse him, or that he might even behave in a mercenary way and see the situation as one to be exploited?’
‘I really can’t... I mean, perhaps if she seemed vulnerable, if he thought he couldn’t possibly fail, then... yes. Perhaps he might. Perhaps it might excite him.’
Annie and Winsome stood up to leave, then Annie asked, ‘Can you tell us where you were last Sunday evening, around ten o’clock?’
‘Is that when it...? When Gavin...’
Annie just nodded.
Dayle twisted the diamond ring Annie had noticed on the third finger of her left hand. She had twisted it a lot during the interview. ‘I was with Derek,’ she said. ‘My fiancé. We went out for dinner to the Blue Lion in East Witton, then we went back to his place in Ripon.’
Annie thanked her and they left.
Gerry Masterson waited for Banks at a copper-topped table in the Queen’s Arms that lunchtime, sipping her slimline tonic, quite relieved that Banks had asked her to continue her research and DS Jackman had gone with DI Cabbot to talk to the Snider woman, instead of her. DI Cabbot scared her. She looked around and saw there was no one else from the station in the lounge at the moment. Not that it mattered. This was not an assignation. Discretion was all Banks wanted, along with his lunch, of course, and Gerry thought she knew why.
He had been to see the Chalmers woman that morning. Lady Veronica Chalmers. What he had found out, or concluded, Gerry had no idea yet — he hadn’t been very forthcoming over the telephone — but she bet that was what the hastily called meeting was about.
She felt nervous. She was still the new girl, and Banks was the boss. There was Area Commander Gervaise, too, she supposed, but AC Gervaise was too remote to think about most of the time. Gerry hardly ever saw her except at some of the briefings, but Banks was right there, on the case, all the time. There was no escaping him. She liked him, but he still terrified her. There was an intensity and focus about him that made her feel nervous around him, a weight and depth of feeling that made her feel shallow. And she wasn’t. Sure, she liked playing football with the local women’s team, liked sport in general, but she read books, too, and she thought about things, important things; she worried about the environment, climate change, the polar ice caps, polluted oceans, the lot. Starving children, too. And war. She hadn’t joined any organisations, but that didn’t mean she didn’t care. But Banks always made her feel as if her caring was superficial. And the damnedest thing about it was that she knew he didn’t do it on purpose, that he would be mortified if he thought she felt that way. And she also knew that, when it came right down to it, he didn’t really feel anything more deeply or more powerfully than she did. Damn it, he never even mentioned climate change, pollution, war or starving children. It was all down to her own stupid feelings, her imagination, her lack of confidence. Annie Cabbot scared her because she was quick and fierce, with an abrasive tongue to match, and Winsome Jackman was tall and silent, mostly, and Gerry never felt that she was meeting Winsome’s exacting standards. But only Banks made her feel shallow. And she wasn’t, dammit, she wasn’t.
She saw him walk through the door and glance around the room. He caught her eye, raised his eyebrows in greeting and walked over. Gerry touched her hair, tucking a stray wave behind her ear. She was proud of her flowing red hair; it was perhaps her only true vanity. She hated her freckles, though some boyfriends had said they found them sexy. The rest of her she thought was OK. She hoped she looked presentable. She guessed that Banks must have come from his office because he wasn’t wearing an overcoat, and it was chilly outside. He wore a navy blue suit, white shirt and a purple tie. When he sat down, she noticed that the top button of his shirt was undone and the knot in the tie was quite a loose one.
‘What did Lady Chalmers say, sir?’ she asked.
‘She admitted that a Gavin Miller called her a week ago last Monday. Something to do with alumni affairs. She was very vague about it, and very surprised when I told her the call lasted seven minutes. Nobody else was around when she took it.’
‘Do you believe her story?’
‘No. But I can’t think why she might be lying, or what she might have to do with the case. On the other hand, I just can’t see a seven-minute call about a donation to the alumni society, or Miller being involved in such a thing. She also seemed shocked when I showed her the photo, mentioned how old he looked.’
‘As if she remembered him when he didn’t look like that?’
‘Maybe. But I couldn’t say for certain. It was just a feeling I got. I may have been imagining things I’d like to be true. Anyway, can you check and find out whether he was involved in alumni affairs in any way?’
‘Of course. One of the numbers on his scratch pad was the University of Essex number. It may help.’
‘And maybe you can find out something about Lady Chalmers’ secretary, too, or whatever she is. Her name’s Oriana Serroni. Hungry?’
‘Ravenous, sir.’
‘Had a chance to look at the menu? I’m buying.’
‘Thank you, sir. The steak sandwich on a baguette sounds perfect.’
‘Steak it is.’ Banks got up and walked over to the bar, where Gerry watched him share a few words and a laugh with Cyril, the landlord. He came back carrying a pint in one hand and another slimline tonic in the other. Gerry thanked him for the drink.
‘No problem. Cheers.’ He took a sip of his beer. ‘Anyway. Lady Veronica Chalmers. What did you find out about her?’
‘Probably nothing you don’t already know, sir.’ Gerry opened the file in front of her, though she knew most of it off by heart. ‘She comes from a good old wealthy Buckinghamshire family, the Bellamys. Raised in the old family manor house outside Aylesbury. Very lah-di-dah. Trust funds and all the rest. Family made their fortune in the colonies originally, mostly South Africa and India. Luckily, they invested wisely and were able to get their money out and carry on with their privileged existence after Partition. Her father was a bigwig at the National Gallery and a pretty well-known art expert and collector. Not exactly Sir Anthony Blunt, but... well, I’m sure you get the idea. All the best schools for Veronica, of course. Jolly hockey sticks, ponies and what have you. But apparently, she got a bit wayward when she hit her teens. The family wanted her to go to Oxbridge, and she could probably just have squeaked in, but she chose to go to the University of Essex instead.’
‘So she said. From debutante to Essex girl? Bit of an odd choice, isn’t it?’