Michelle looked at it a minute, picked it up and looked more closely, then slid it back across the desk to Banks. She took off her reading glasses and set them on the table. “Prick,” she whispered.
“Come again?”
“You heard me. Why didn’t you tell me from the start you were a DCI instead of playing games and stringing me along, making me feel like a complete fool?”
“Because I didn’t want to give the impression I was trying to interfere. I’m simply here as someone who knew Graham. Besides, why did you have to come on so heavy-handed? I came here to volunteer information. There was no need to put me in an interview room and use the same tactics you use on a suspect. I’m surprised you didn’t leave me here alone to stew for an hour.”
“You’re making me wish I had.”
They glared at each other in silence for a few moments, then Banks said, “Look, I’m sorry. I had no intention of making you feel foolish. And you don’t need to. Why should you? It’s true that I knew Graham. We were close friends at school. We lived on the same street. But this isn’t my case, and I don’t want you to think I’m pushing my nose in or anything. That’s why I didn’t announce myself at first. I’m sorry. You’re right. I should have told you I was on the Job right from the start. Okay?”
Michelle gazed at him through narrowed eyes for a while, then twitched the corners of her lips in a brief smile and nodded. “Your name came up when I was talking to his parents. I would have got in touch eventually.”
“The powers that be not exactly overwhelming you with assistance on this one, then?”
Michelle snorted. “You could say that. One DC. It’s not a high priority case, and I’m the new kid on the block. New girl.”
“I know what you mean,” Banks said. He remembered first meeting Annie Cabbot when she was put out to pasture at Harkside and he was in Outer Siberia back in Eastvale. That hadn’t been a high priority case to start with, either, but it had turned into one. He could sympathize with DI Hart.
“Anyway,” she went on, “I didn’t know you were a copper. I suppose I should call you ‘sir’? Rank and all?”
“Not necessary. I’m not one to stand on ceremony. Besides, I’m on your patch here. You’re the boss. I do have a suggestion, though.”
“Oh?”
Banks looked at his watch. “It’s one o’clock. I drove down from Eastvale this morning without stopping and I haven’t had a thing to eat. Why don’t we get out of this depressing room and talk about Graham over lunch? I’ll pay.”
Michelle raised on eyebrow. “You asking me out to lunch?”
“To discuss the case. Over lunch. Yes. Dammit, I’m hungry. Know any decent pubs around here?”
She gazed at him again, apparently appraising him for any imminent risk he might pose to her. When she couldn’t seem to think of anything, she said, “Okay. I know a place. Come on. But I’m paying my own way.”
What a stupid bloody decision it had been to take to the high ground, Annie Cabbot thought as she trudged illegally up the footpath, trying to avoid the little clusters of sheep droppings that seemed to be everywhere, and failing as often as not. Her legs ached and she was panting with effort, even though she thought of herself as pretty fit.
She wasn’t dressed for a walk in the country, either. Knowing she was visiting the Armitages again that morning, she had dressed in a skirt and blouse. She was even wearing tights. Not to mention the navy pumps that were crippling her. It was a hot day, and she could feel the sweat trickling along every available channel. Stray tresses of hair stuck to her cheeks and forehead.
As she climbed, she kept glancing behind at the shepherd’s shelter, but nobody approached it. She could only hope that she hadn’t been spotted, that the kidnapper, if that was what this was all about, wasn’t watching her through binoculars from a comfortable distance.
She found a spot she thought would do. It was a gentle dip in the daleside a few yards off the footpath. From there she could lie on her stomach and keep a close eye on the shelter without being seen from below.
Annie felt the warm, damp grass against her body, smelled its sweetness as she lay flat on her stomach, binoculars in hand. It felt good, and she wanted to take off all her clothes, feel the sun and earth on her bare skin, but she told herself not to be such a bloody fool and get on with the job. She compromised by taking off her jacket. The sun beat down on the back of her head and her shoulders. She had no suntan lotion with her, so she put the jacket over the back of her neck, even though it felt too hot. Better than getting sunstroke.
When she had got settled, there she lay. Waiting. Watching. Thoughts drifted through her head the way they did when she settled down to meditation, and she tried to practice the same technique of letting them go without dwelling on them. It started as a sort of free association, then went way beyond: sunlight; warmth; skin; pigment; her father; Banks; music; Luke Armitage’s black room; dead singers; secrets; kidnapping; murder.
Flies buzzed around her, snapping her out of the chain of association. She waved them away. At one point, she felt a beetle or some insect creeping down the front of her bra and almost panicked, but she managed to get it off her before it got too far. A couple of curious rabbits approached, twitched their noses and turned away. Annie wondered if she would end up in Wonderland if she followed one.
She took long, deep breaths of grass-scented air. Time passed. An hour. Two. Three. Still nobody came to pick up the briefcase. Of course, the shepherd’s shelter was off-limits because of foot-and-mouth, as was all open countryside, but that hadn’t stopped Martin Armitage, and she was certain it wouldn’t stop the kidnapper, either. In fact, it was probably why the place had been chosen: little chance of anyone passing by. Most people in the area were law-abiding when it came to the restrictions, because they knew how much was at stake, and the tourists were staying away, taking their holidays abroad or in the cities instead. Normally, Annie obeyed the signs, too, but this was an emergency, and she knew she hadn’t been anywhere near an infected area in weeks.
She wished she had something to eat and drink. It was long past lunchtime now, and she was starving. The heat was also making her thirsty. And there was something else, she realized, a more pressing urge: she needed to go to the toilet.
Well, she thought, looking around and seeing nothing but sheep in every direction, there’s a simple remedy for that. She moved a few yards away from her flattened spot on the ground, checked for nettles and thistles, then took off her tights, squatted and peed. At least a woman could do that during surveillance in the countryside, Annie thought with a smile. It was a bit different if you were sitting cooped up in your car on a city street, as she had found out more than once in the past. Before she had finished, two low-flying jets from a nearby U.S. airbase screamed over, seeming no more than twenty feet or so from her head. She wondered if the pilots had got a good view. She gave them the finger, the way Americans did.
Back on her stomach, she tried her mobile again on the off chance that it might just have been local interference before, but still no luck. The moor was a dead zone.
How long should she wait? she wondered. And why hadn’t he come? The money was just lying there. What if he didn’t come before nightfall and the lovers returned, more important things than foot-and-mouth on their minds? Several thousand quid as well as a quick bonk would be an unexpected bonus for them.
Her stomach rumbling, tongue dry against the roof of her mouth, Annie picked up the binoculars again and trained them on the shelter.
Michelle drove Banks to a pub she knew near the A1, wondering more than once on the way why she was doing this. But she knew the answer. She was bored with routine, bored first with tracking down the paperwork, and then bored with reading through it. She needed to get out, blow the cobwebs away, and this was the opportunity to do that and work as well.