Luckily, the flat that she had let to Banks once before, when New-hope Cottage was being rebuilt after the fire, was vacant. An American couple had booked it, she said, but the husband had lost his savings and his job in the recent financial collapses over there, and they had had to cancel at the last minute. At least, Banks thought, he would be on familiar territory, and he did still have all the clothes and toiletries he had taken on holiday with him. There was a washer-dryer unit in the flat, he remembered, so he could have clean clothes again by tomorrow.
Western Area Headquarters seemed much more crowded than usual, but Annie’s shooting had cast a somber pall over the place. A number of officers nodded grimly to Banks as he walked in, and Winsome helped him carry his suitcase and hand luggage upstairs before heading for the Major Crimes squad room to check if there had been any developments.
When Banks opened his office door, he found that the space was already occupied. By this time, the shock and jet lag had eroded his patience to breaking point.
“What the hell are you doing snooping around my office?” he said, dropping the heavy suitcase and carry-on bag on the floor. “Get out.” Superintendent Reg Chambers remained seated behind Banks’s desk. “Welcome home,” he said. “Nobody told me you were coming in today, but now that you’re here we might as well have a little chat.”
Banks glanced around. Everything seemed as he had left it, as best he could remember, and he knew that he had locked his filing cabinets and drawers. There was a master key, of course, but Detective Superintendent Gervaise had that. And Chambers would never be able to guess his computer’s password. “I still want to know what the fuck you’re doing here.”
“My job, DCI Banks. I’m on an active investigation. That means I have the run of the station.”
“I don’t think so.”
Chambers waved his hand and stood up. “Mere technicalities,” he said. “Anyway, let’s not get off on the wrong foot. It’s the only quiet haven in the building. I needed a bit of peace and quiet, that’s all. Don’t worry, I haven’t touched anything. You can have it all to yourself again.” He picked up his folders from the desk. “I’ll go now.” Then he paused in the doorway. “Unless…”
“Unless what?”
“Well, I would like a word with you… We could do it later, of course, but why not do it now, seeing as we’re both here? That is, if you’re up to it? I understand you’ve been on holiday?”
Banks walked over to the window and looked out over the cobbled market square. Reassuringly, it hadn’t changed. Then he turned and rested the backs of his thighs against the cold radiator. “Why do you want to talk to me?” he asked. “I wasn’t here. This has nothing to do with me.”
“Your name was mentioned. You know the people involved. You might be able to help.”
“I doubt it.”
“Even so…Look, I heard what happened to Annie Cabbot,” Chambers went on, a deep frown wrinkling his brow. “I’m really sorry. How is she?”
“Touch and go,” said Banks. He walked back over and sat in his chair, which was still unpleasantly warm from Chambers, and offered the superintendent the seat opposite. “Let’s do it now,” he said. He would rather have waited, but there was also a slim chance that he might pick up a useful scrap of information from a chat with Chambers. Besides, he wasn’t going to show the man weakness or tiredness; that was just the kind of thing Chambers fed on.
Chambers sat down and scratched his head. “Right, well, I suppose you must have some idea of what’s been going on around here in your absence?”
“I know,” said Banks.
“Yes, well, it’s my job to get to the bottom of it.”
“You’re after portioning out blame according to the demands of the media, that’s what you’re doing. Basic public relations. Let’s not try to dignify it. Remember who you’re talking to.”
“Well, if you’re going to take that attitude I can’t see us getting anywhere, can you?”
“Don’t get in a huff. It’s you who wants to talk to me, after all. Ask your bloody questions. And make it quick. Just remember, you’re not talking to some frightened probationary constable who’s forgotten to pay his tea money this week.”
Chambers puffed out his considerable chest. “It’s my brief to investigate the conduct of all officers concerned in the lethal discharge of a Taser against Patrick Doyle and the events leading up to that tragic occurrence. In case you don’t know, that incident happened on Monday morning at the home of the deceased during a routine police operation.”
“Routine? There was nothing routine about it from what I’ve heard.”
“Then perhaps you’ve heard wrong? Or you haven’t heard enough.”
“Anyway,” said Banks. “Like I said, I’m not involved. I was out of the country.”
“It’s my understanding that a woman came to this police station asking for you.”
“Juliet Doyle. Yes. I know her. But as I said, I wasn’t here.”
“In what capacity do you know her?”
“We used to be neighbors.”
“Is that all?”
“You’re trying my patience, Chambers.”
“So your relationship with the Doyle family was as a family friend?”
“Yes.”
“The daughter, too?”
“Yes. And Patrick was a good friend, so knock it off with the innuendos. There’s nothing there, and no reason for it.”
“I’m concerned as to why this woman should ask for you in person when she came to report an illegal handgun.”
“It’s natural enough to seek out someone you know in a difficult situation, isn’t it?”
“Don’t you think she did it because she expected special treatment?”
“I don’t know. It’s not my place to speculate as to motive. Or yours. As I said, a familiar face goes a long way if you’re upset.”
“Do you think Mrs. Doyle had any idea of the legal penalties involved in possessing a handgun?”
“I have no idea. Probably not. Most people don’t.”
“Because this is her daughter we’re talking about. And there’s no denying prison time would be involved.”
“She did what she thought was best.”
“That’s easy enough to say.”
Banks got up and walked over to the window again. The butcher over Market Street, to his right, was taking all the cuts of meat from his display window, and his assistant was scrubbing the trays. A last minute shopper dashed in through the door and the butcher looked up to smile and serve her. Banks turned to face Chambers. “Why are you asking me these questions? What do you hope to gain? I’ve already told you, I wasn’t here. You should be concentrating on the AFOs involved.”
“Don’t tell me my job.” Chambers thumped the table. “That woman asked for you specifically, and I want to know what you would have done if you’d been here.”
“Oh, that’s it,” said Banks. “We’re dealing in would-haves and what-ifs now, are we?”
“A man died.”
“You don’t have to remind me. He was my friend.”
“Could you have prevented it?”
“Could I? I don’t know. What does it matter? It would have been out of my hands. You want to know what I would have done? It’s easy. I would have got as much information as I could from Mrs. Doyle and tried to verify, then assess, the circumstances. In all likelihood I would have logged the incident, and it would have been passed on to our Area Control Room. The ACR would no doubt inform the Divisional Duty Inspector responsible for the area concerned, and she would, in turn, make the Force Duty Supervisor aware of the log. They would discuss the circumstances, and the Fsup would then ask that more information be gathered. Once that had been carried out, the Fsup would request that the DDI deploy a conventional double crewed response vehicle, ensuring that all officers have full Personal Protective Equipment. The Fsup would then…Do you really want me to go on?”