‘Once or twice. Yes.’
‘But not last night?’
‘No.’
‘Why not? Boyfriend? Hot date, instead, perhaps?’
Oriana smiled. ‘I should say that’s an impertinent question and refuse to answer it, but I did ask you about your wife. It’s simple, really. I just stayed in, read for a while, then Angelina and I watched a movie. If you want to know—’
‘I don’t need to know what movie you watched. I’m not treating you as a suspect in anything. I don’t need an alibi.’
Oriana made a mock pout. ‘Oh. How disappointing.’
Banks laughed. ‘It’s not often I get that response. Besides, it’s not as if you really have one, is it? An alibi, I mean.’ He drank some more green tea, and went on. ‘And the thing I didn’t tell you when you asked about my wife was that we’ve been divorced for more than ten years now.’ Banks paused. ‘You seemed to indicate last night that Lady Chalmers thought she was in some kind of danger? Can you tell me any more about that?’
‘I think perhaps I overreacted. She was in shock, as you said. Perhaps a little of her panic spread to me.’
‘Was she driving the MG?’
‘Yes. She loves it, even in bad weather, when it would be much more sensible to drive the Rav 4.’
‘ “Who Drove the Red Sports Car”?’ Banks said.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Oh, nothing. Just a song. Van Morrison. Lady Chalmers would know it. Where’s the car now? Was it badly damaged?’
‘Apparently not. They’re supposed to be towing it back up today or tomorrow.’
‘Oriana,’ said Banks quietly, ‘can you please keep what we’ve talked about, even that we met, to yourself for the time being? Give me a couple of days. I’ll see what I can dig up. Keep a close eye on Lady Chalmers. If possible, don’t let her go out alone.’
‘Is she really in danger?’
‘It’s possible.’
‘But why?’
‘That,’ said Banks, ‘is what I would like to try and find out.’
‘Why did you want to have lunch with me?’ Winsome asked Lisa as they took their seats in the Maharaja, an old pub recently converted into an Indian restaurant. The smells of cumin and coriander permeated the air. The decor was pure upmarket-Indian-restaurant-in-a-box, with dark wood panelling, brass or carved wooden statues of elephants and many-armed gods, paintings of women in saris with red dots on their foreheads, lots of gilt edging and deep velvety red curtains, wall-hangings and banquettes. Even the waiter had an Indian accent. He probably was Indian.
‘Do I have to have a reason?’ Lisa was certainly dressed for the occasion, though the Maharaja was casual as far as dress code went. She wore a navy skirt, and a matching tailored jacket over her cream blouse. She was even wearing tights and seemed to have applied a little make-up. Winsome thought she looked as if she were going to a job interview. They didn’t attract anywhere near as many glances as they had in the coffee shop a few days earlier.
‘Not at all,’ Winsome said. ‘I’m just surprised, you know. I mean what you’ve just been through, reliving your past, it can’t have been easy. Often in things like that, most people, well, they tend to blame the one who pushed them a bit.’
‘I’m not most people.’
‘I can see that. You scrub up nicely, by the way.’
Lisa blushed, and they ordered rogan josh, chicken tikka, aloo gobi, and raita and naans to accompany the meal. Winsome liked to eat Indian food using her bread as a scoop for pieces of meat drenched in sauce. Lisa ordered a bottle of Stella, but Winsome was sticking to Diet Coke. And plenty of water. ‘I don’t suppose you can tell me anything about how the case is going, can you?’ Lisa asked.
‘I can’t. Not even if I knew anything. But as far as I know, there are no new developments.’
‘Do you think you’ll ever find out who did it?’
‘We’ll do our best, Lisa. That’s all I can say. Now, how are you?’
‘I’m fine, I suppose.’
‘Was there any particular reason you wanted to see me?’
‘It must have been quite difficult for you, too, the other night, when I unburdened myself on you. I don’t usually do that. It was like opening a floodgate. I don’t know how you did it.’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ Winsome said. ‘The time was right for you. It must have been a terrible experience, the period you described, and this business brought it all back. If it’s worth anything, I think you’ve done a remarkable job of coming through it.’
‘Hardly,’ said Lisa. ‘But thank you for saying so. I’m still half-paralysed with fear and self-loathing most of the time.’
‘What are you dressed up for, anyway? Are you after a job or something?’
‘Would you employ me?’
‘Not up to me, but I can’t see why anybody wouldn’t. You’re bright and enthusiastic, even presentable at the moment.’
‘Hey!’
Winsome smiled. ‘Sorry.’
‘As a matter of fact I’m trying for a job in that pub over the road from your police station.’
‘The Queen’s Arms?’
‘That’s the one. A “proper job”, as you called it. I haven’t had a lot of experience, but they’re advertising, and I know someone who used to work there. She’ll put in a good word for me. It’s a start. I’ll continue with my writing, of course. That’s my real passion. Do you think they’ll... you know...’ She touched her piercings.
‘It might be a good idea to remove some of them, if you can. Temporarily, of course.’
Lisa nodded. ‘I thought so. OK.’
‘It’s not that they’re prejudiced or anything, I’ve seen girls working there with piercings, but people who deal with the public on a daily basis tend to be just a little bit on the conservative side when it comes to body art.’
‘I understand. It’s all right. I’m getting a bit bored with them, anyway, to tell you the truth.’ She fingered her eyebrow ring. ‘And that one even hurts a bit.’
Winsome laughed. ‘Then it would be a good place to start.’ She paused. ‘I can put in a good word for you, too, if you’d like me to?’
‘You would?’
‘Of course. I’m not saying my word would count for a lot there, but they know me. There is one thing, though.’
‘Oh?’
‘The drugs.’
‘Don’t worry, I won’t toke up on the job.’
‘That’s not what I...’ Winsome laughed. ‘Oh, never mind.’
Their food arrived, delivered by the small Indian waiter in the white suit, who smiled and bowed before them and said, ‘Happy eating.’ Winsome tore a naan in half and scooped out a mouthful of rogan josh. Delicious.
They both ate in silence for a while, nothing but the quiet hum of conversations and the distant sound of sitar and tablas. ‘Is there something you wanted to tell me?’ Winsome asked after a while.
Lisa looked her in the eye. ‘I think you know there is. That’s what I like about you. You don’t push it, do you? But you know things. You make people want to tell you things of their own free will. It’s different.’
‘I’m still a policewoman at heart, Lisa, so be careful.’
‘You mean, don’t tell you anything that might incriminate me?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Don’t worry. You’ve had plenty of chances to arrest me, and you haven’t done it yet.’ Lisa paused, and they both carried on eating for a while. ‘I didn’t tell you everything,’ she said finally.
‘I don’t imagine you did.’
‘Do you know what I’m going to say?’
‘I have a good idea, but I’d still rather hear it from you.’
‘Then you can say you knew it all along?’
Winsome regarded her in all seriousness, then she spooned up some chicken tikka in the ragged remains of her naan. ‘I wouldn’t do that unless it was true.’