‘So that’s what they did?’
‘That’s what they did. And the fucker got booted out on his arse.’
‘And he never did anything to either of them.’
‘That’s the beauty of it. And they never had to fuck him. But he certainly ogled their arses and their tits, didn’t he? I mean, he would have fucked them if he’d had half a chance. Teachers shouldn’t do that, man. We were teaching him a lesson.’ He laughed at his own weak joke. Banks was amazed he got it, so fried by drugs did his brain seem.
‘So, first Kayleigh went to the college authorities with her story, then Beth put her hand up and said, “Me, too.”?’
‘That’s right. You got it.’
‘And where were you through all this?’
‘Gone. Hit the road. Couldn’t see me for dust.’
‘Did you follow the story?’
‘What for?’
‘To find out what happened to Miller, to Beth and Kayleigh.’
‘Nah. What’s the point? I had places to go, things to do.’
‘So you never looked back?’
‘That’s right.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ Banks shook his head slowly.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing,’ Banks said. ‘You wouldn’t understand. I’d like to thank you for your time, Kyle.’ Banks pressed the button beside the desk, as Tim Grainger had told him, and Grainger appeared a few seconds later, along with a warder. ‘Done?’ he said. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Everything’s fine,’ said Banks. ‘We’re done.’
‘You’ll remember about my time off for cooperating, won’t you, man?’ Kyle said as the warder led him away. ‘You can’t say I wasn’t cooperative.’
‘No,’ said Banks. ‘I sure as hell can’t say that.’
‘Oh, it’s you again. Come in,’ said Lisa Gray, managing a weak smile when Winsome and Annie turned up at her door. It was marginally more welcoming than the greeting Dayle Snider had given them earlier, but not much. Lisa gave Annie a suspicious glance, and Winsome introduced them.
‘Not interrupting anything, are we?’ Winsome asked. Annie had agreed that her partner should do most of the questioning, as she already seemed to have created some sort of bond with Lisa. Annie would jump in as and when she felt like it.
‘Not at all. I was just reading.’
It was a small flat just off the western edge of the campus. Close enough, but not part of it. You could see the concrete and glass low-rises through her second-floor window, the students wandering about with their backpacks or briefcases. A knobby cactus stood in a pot on the windowsill. The room was painted a sort of creamy orange, the lighting was dim, from shaded lamps, and framed movie, exhibition and concert posters and art prints hung on the walls: Cat People, Salvador Dalí, Joy Division. One showed a beautiful but decadent and dangerous-looking young man, long wavy hair, shirtless, wearing leather trousers, holding on to a microphone stand as if it were the only thing keeping him on his feet. ‘The Doors’ was written aslant across the top.
The room was thinly carpeted and furnished with a charity-shop three-piece suite, whose frayed arms and faded red rose pattern had seen better days. There was an old black-leaded fireplace, or imitation lead, Winsome sincerely hoped, complete with hob and andirons. Lisa had a wood fire burning, and it took the chill off the air nicely. There was a hint of sandalwood incense mixed with the slightly damp, musty smell of the room. Winsome didn’t recognise the music that was playing, repetitive strings spiralling on and on, reaching a crescendo, then shifting abruptly, changing key. It was hypnotic. She saw the name ‘Glass’ on a CD cover. Banks would probably know them. He knew all sorts of trivia; he ought to be on Pointless. Lisa’s book, A Tale for the Time Being, by Ruth Ozeki, lay open face down on the coffee table.
‘Tea?’ Lisa said.
‘As a matter of fact, we’re just about all tea-ed out,’ said Winsome.
‘I think I’d like some. Mind if I put the kettle on?’
‘Fine. Go ahead.’
Lisa disappeared into the kitchen. The music continued, quietly insistent, in the background, She heard a tap running and a gas ring flare, then Lisa returned and sat, lifting up her legs and wrapping her arms around her knees. ‘What can I help you with this time?’
The pink and yellow streaks were gone from her blonde hair, which fell in a ragged fringe over her forehead. Winsome wanted to lean forward and brush away a lock that covered one eye. Lisa was wearing loose-fitting jeans and a baggy sweatshirt, so that it was still impossible to see what sort of a figure she had, except that she was frail and slender, certainly not capable of throwing Gavin Miller over the side of the railway bridge without help. Her face was clean of make-up, and there was a sort of innocence about it that belied her experience.
‘Same as before, really,’ Winsome said. ‘We just want to clarify one or two points.’
‘If I can.’
‘The last time I talked to you,’ Winsome said, ‘you were a bit vague about a few things. One of them being what problems you were going through at the time, what it was that made Trevor Lomax disbelieve you when you came forward. He told us you were neurotic, abusive, delusional, behind in your work, on drugs, and a trollop.’
To Winsome’s surprise, Lisa laughed. ‘Well, he’s just about got all the exits covered, hasn’t he? What about alcoholic? Didn’t he mention that?’
Winsome grinned. ‘He might have done. Something about turning up for a class while intoxicated.’
‘Thought so. He’s a prick. He believed me. He just didn’t want to get involved.’
‘But he got involved before, at first, when the charges were brought against Gavin. He was one of the few people to defend him. Why the sudden change of heart?’
‘Do you actually know for a fact how much he did for Mr Miller? Or exactly what he did? I shouldn’t think the change of heart was all that sudden. I imagine he got his fingers burned the first time, and he wasn’t inclined to put them in the fire again. The powers that be wouldn’t have taken kindly to anyone stirring up the past all over again. And I was well aware that I’d probably make a less than satisfactory witness.’
‘But you still thought there was a chance?’
‘Hoped. You have to try, don’t you?’ A shrill whistling came from the kitchen. Lisa excused herself and disappeared for a moment. Winsome and Annie exchanged glances. When Lisa came back she was carrying a steaming mug.
‘So Trevor Lomax never said exactly what it was he did to try to help Gavin in the first place?’ Winsome asked.
‘Not to me. Maybe you should ask him.’
‘And you take that to mean that he didn’t do very much at all?’
‘Well, given that he wasn’t present when the alleged incident occurred,’ Lisa said, ‘I should imagine his defence consisted of a character reference, and perhaps a slur against Beth and Kayleigh.’
‘But he couldn’t have known anything else at the time.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘He didn’t know about Kyle. The connection. The reason why Beth and Kayleigh conspired to frame Gavin Miller. Neither did you.’
‘That’s right.’
‘So this was really all between you and Gavin Miller?’
‘I don’t know what you’re getting at.’
‘It’s simple, really,’ Annie chipped in. ‘What DS Jackman really wants to know is how did Gavin Miller find out about Kyle McClusky’s illegal activities?’