‘Is that Van Morrison I can hear in the background. “Listen to the Lion”?’
‘Yes,’ said Banks.
There was a pause. ‘I love Van Morrison. That was always one of my favourites, Saint Dominic’s Preview. And Veedon Fleece. I always wondered what a veedon fleece was, didn’t you?’
‘Why are you calling me, Lady Chalmers? Has something happened I should know about?’
‘I told you, it’s Ronnie. No, nothing’s happened. I’m just calling to apologise. I feel bad about it.’
‘For what?’
‘Did you get into trouble? You did, didn’t you?’
‘When?’
‘After you came to see me with your colleague. Annie, isn’t it? When Ralph and Tony were there.’
Banks was still smarting from the unpleasant half-hour he had spent with Red Ron and Madame Gervaise. ‘Maybe a little,’ he said. ‘Probably no more than I deserved. It’s not your fault.’
‘But I feel responsible. You didn’t deserve it. I mean, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for anything like that to happen.’
‘You don’t have to apologise to me. If you think I was out of line—’
‘No. It’s not that. It wasn’t me.’
‘What do you mean?’
The silence on the other end lasted just long enough to make him think Lady Chalmers had fallen asleep or dropped the phone on the bed, but then she came back on the line again. Van Morrison was still singing about the lion inside him. Banks was wondering where she had got his number, but remembered he had given her his card. ‘It was Tony,’ she said. ‘My brother-in-law. Jem was away, so I rang Tony and told him you’d been to talk to me and were coming back again. I told him I needed some support. Tony drove straight up from Derbyshire and said it would be a good idea to have our solicitor there, too. After you’d left the second time, Tony rang your chief constable and reported the conversation. I just want to say that I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for all that to happen. I’m not really that sort of person. You were only doing your job. But I haven’t done anything wrong. I don’t know why you’re picking on me. Is there some reason you don’t like me?’
‘I’m not picking on you, and I don’t dislike you. And I appreciate the apology, but there’s really no need for it. These things happen.’
‘Especially when you’re still a little bit of a rebel? I know. But even so... I don’t tell tales out of school. I just wanted you to know that. I just wanted someone on my side, that’s all. I’m not a tattle-tittle.’
‘Tittle-tattle.’
‘Whatever.’
‘Well, I appreciate it,’ said Banks. ‘But don’t worry. You won’t have to deal with me again.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that. I thought we might actually have quite a bit in common. You like Van Morrison, for a start. In another time, under different circumstances, perhaps we could be friends.
‘Goodnight, Lady Chalmers. And thanks for calling.’
‘Ronnie, please. Goodnight. Enjoy the rest of the music.’
And the line went dead.
Banks reached for his glass and took another sip of wine. What the hell was all that about, he wondered? Was she flirting? It sounded like it. She was certainly apologising when she didn’t need to. Maybe she was trying to ingratiate herself to him. He had thought she had been lying to him when he questioned her about Gavin Miller, and he had been just as sure that it was her who had set the brass on him. Perhaps he was wrong. Anthony Litton seemed like the sort of man who was used to exerting influence where it counted. After all, there was a cabinet reshuffle coming in just under a week, and his son Oliver’s name was on everyone’s lips as the possible new Home Secretary. On the other hand, maybe Lady Chalmers had just had a few drinks too many, her husband had left her alone, or they’d had a row or something, so she’d phoned out of boredom or annoyance. But why him? It still didn’t make sense. Was she trying to tell him something? There had been something in her tone that could have been fear, or anxiety. Was she worried about something? In danger, even? Had he been rude? He thought he had.
For one mad moment, the phone in his hand, he thought of calling her back, then he decided against it. If any word of this got back to Gervaise, he would be in serious trouble. That wouldn’t necessarily bother him if he thought it was worth it, but in this case he wasn’t at all sure. Perhaps there was more to Miller’s phone call than she had admitted, for reasons he didn’t understand, but perhaps also the call had nothing to do with Miller’s murder. Perhaps, as Red Ron and Madame Gervaise had suggested, the murder was more to do with drugs or the college scandal.
And why had Anthony Litton dashed all the way up from Derbyshire? To intimidate the police? A family closing ranks? Lady Chalmers was his sister-in-law, of course, and she had told him she needed his support, but it all seemed a bit melodramatic. Why had Litton insisted on the lawyer’s presence, and why had he complained about Banks to the chief constable afterwards? It was tale-telling of the worst kind.
The more Banks thought about the last interview with Lady Chalmers, the more he felt that neither he nor Annie had crossed any lines. It had all been polite and above board, trying to clear up some confusing contradictions. So why the overreaction?
Sir Jeremy had been in New York when the murder occurred, but, like Lady Chalmers, he was resourceful, and he wouldn’t necessarily dirty his own hands with such a distasteful act. Could he have had something to do with it? Would a theatrical producer know where to find a hired killer? Maybe in New York he would. And was Lady Chalmers unsuspecting, worried, perhaps even a little frightened by the events going on around her?
Well, he might never know the answers, he realised, as he stood up to refill his glass in the kitchen and put on another CD in the entertainment room. This time he chose Veedon Fleece. Like Lady Chalmers — Ronnie — Banks had always wondered what a veedon fleece was, too.
Chapter 8
‘I don’t like all this sneaking around, sir,’ said Gerry Masterson over tea and toasted teacakes in the Golden Grill. ‘It makes me nervous.’
‘Gerry, you don’t have to do it if it makes you uncomfortable. Honestly. You can bow out anytime you like, and there’ll be nothing said.’
Then Gerry smiled. ‘I don’t dislike it all that much,’ she said. ‘I just worry sometimes what’ll happen if we get caught. It’s bound to happen.’
‘We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,’ said Banks. ‘For now, what did you find out over the weekend?’
‘You asked me to check whether Lady Chalmers was involved with Eastvale College at all, and the answer’s no. Also, I can’t find any connections between Gavin, or anyone else involved in the case, and Sir Jeremy. It doesn’t mean there’s nothing there, of course, but nothing leaps out.’
‘It was a long shot, anyway,’ said Banks. ‘It vaguely crossed my mind the other day that Sir Jeremy might have something to do with it, but I doubt it very much. Anything else?’
‘I managed to get in touch with Gavin Miller’s ex-wife. She’s called Roxanne Oulton now, and she lives in Christchurch.’
‘Have anything to say?’
‘Not much. She hasn’t been back over here since she married her second husband.’
‘The plumber?’
‘Yes. She admits that her marriage to Gavin came to a nasty end, and Gavin felt betrayed. She felt guilty about having the affair, but she said it was the only way she could get free of him.’
‘I can understand that,’ said Banks. ‘Sometimes people need someone else to go to when a relationship ends, to help get them out of it. It doesn’t always last, though.’