“Twenty-one.”
“As I remember, the last thing a twenty-one-year-old woman would want is a fifteen-year-old boyfriend. Now maybe if she were forty-one…”
Annie smiled. “A toyboy?”
“I’ve heard it called that. But I still think fifteen’s too young.”
“I don’t know,” said Annie. “The head teacher’s daughter told DCI Banks she thought Luke was having it off with his English teacher, and she’s pushing thirty.”
“Lauren Anderson?”
“That’s the one.”
“Stranger things have happened. What does Alan think?”
“That little Miss Barlow had reasons of her own for causing trouble for Miss Anderson.” Annie sipped some beer. Nectar. “But I wouldn’t say it’s out of the question that Luke was having relations with someone older than himself. Everything I’ve heard about him indicates he seemed much older than his age, both physically and mentally.”
“How about emotionally?”
“That I don’t know.”
“Well, that’s the one that counts,” Gristhorpe mused. “That’s what causes people to get out of their depth. They can understand something intellectually, accomplish something physically, but the emotional aspect can hit them like a sledgehammer if they’re not mature enough. Teenagers are particularly vulnerable.”
Annie agreed. She’d had enough experience with troubled teens in her job to know it was true, and Luke Armitage had been a complex personality, a mass of conflicting desires and unresolved problems. Add to that his creativity, his sensitivity, and Luke was probably as volatile to handle as nitroglycerine.
“Does the Anderson woman have a jealous boyfriend?” Gristhorpe asked.
“Not according to Winsome. She did a bit of digging. Only bit of dirt on Ms. Anderson is that her brother Vernon’s got a record.”
Gristhorpe raised his bushy eyebrows. “Oh?”
“Nothing really nasty. Just dodgy checks.”
“I’ve written a few of those in my time, according to my bank manager. What about the other teacher, Alastair Ford?”
“Kevin Templeton says there are rumors he’s gay, but only rumors. As far as anyone knows he has no sex life at all.”
“Any evidence that Luke Armitage was gay, too?”
“None. But there’s no evidence he was straight, either. Ford has a temper, though, like Armitage, and he’s been seeing a psychiatrist for several years now. Definitely the unstable kind.”
“Not to be ruled out, then?”
“No.”
“And Norman Wells?”
“Looking less likely, isn’t he?”
When their food arrived, both were hungry enough to stop talking for a while and eat, then Gristhorpe slowed down. “Any ideas of your own about how Luke’s bag ended up where it did, Annie?” he asked.
Annie finished her mouthful of lasagne, then said, “I think Luke went there after his run-in with the three bullies in the market square. What happened after that, I don’t know, but either he died there or something happened that made him run off without his bag, which I don’t think he’d do under any normal circumstances.”
“So something happened there?”
“Yes. Certainly.”
“What about his mobile?”
“One of those tiny models you can just flip open and shut. Probably couldn’t find it among all the stuff if he kept it in his bag, so he carried it in his pocket. Anyway, it hasn’t been found yet.”
“Has it been used?”
“Not since the ransom call. Hasn’t even been switched on. I checked again with the company.”
“Anything valuable in the bag?”
“Stefan’s going through it. From what I saw, though, I don’t think so. I mean, the laptop was worth a bob or two, but I don’t think theft was the motive here. That is…”
“Yes, Annie?”
“Well, there was nothing valuable to you or me, nothing of any real material value, but I got the impression that Liz, at least, is ambitious, and there’s a chance they could ride a lot farther and a lot faster on Luke Armitage’s coattails – or rather Neil Byrd’s coattails.”
“I think I must be a bit of an old fogey,” said Gristhorpe, scratching the side of his hooked nose, “but I can’t say I’ve ever heard of Neil Byrd. I know who he was to Luke and what happened to him, of course, but that’s about as far as it goes.”
“Alan – DCI Banks – knows a lot more about it than I do, sir, but Byrd was quite famous in his time. The record company is still bringing out CDs of previously unreleased stuff, greatest hits and live concerts, so there’s still a thriving Neil Byrd industry out there, a dozen years after his death. Luke inherited some of his father’s talent, and if Liz and Ryan wanted to milk the connection, I’m sure there are plenty of song ideas and fragments on the laptop and in his notebooks.”
“But he was only a kid, Annie. Surely he can’t have had that much to say?”
“It’s not what you say, sir, it’s how you say it. Teenage angst, mostly, from what I’ve heard. But it’s the name that’s the point. And, not to be too ghoulish about it, the circumstances. Dead son of famous rock suicide. With a promotion like that, the songs wouldn’t need to be that good. It’d get Liz’s band known, get them a name, and that’s more than half the battle in the music business.”
“But legally all Luke’s stuff belongs to his family now. Wouldn’t they sue if these people got as far as making a record of Luke’s songs?”
“Maybe, but it’d be too late then, wouldn’t it? And you know what they say: no publicity’s bad publicity. A lawsuit would only further Liz’s and Ryan’s career. It’s just a thought, sir.”
Gristhorpe finished his last chip and pushed his plate aside, taking a sip of shandy. “So what you’re saying is that, whether the two of them killed Luke or not, they somehow found themselves with a gold mine of material, and they thought they might as well hang on to it until they could use it?”
“As I said, sir, it’s only an idea. If they’d been a bit more cautious, they’d have got rid of the bag and we’d be none the wiser.”
“But they never thought we’d search their flat.”
“Why would they? They didn’t even know that anyone had seen Luke with Liz.”
“What about the vicar at that church where they practiced?”
Annie rolled her eyes. “Winsome talked to him. Said he’s so otherworldly he hadn’t a clue who Luke Armitage was or that he’d disappeared.”
“Would Liz and Ryan have killed Luke for his stuff?” he asked.
“I don’t think so, sir. That’s the problem. Whichever way you look at it, they’d be far better off with Luke alive. He would have been the real draw. Without him, well… they’re simply doing the best they can.”
“So they had nothing to gain by killing him?”
“No. Not unless he was intending to walk out on them, for example, and take all his works with him. One of them could have lost it with him then. Or, as I suggested earlier, unless there was some sort of romantic relationship and Ryan found out.”
“A crime passionnel? I suppose so. Wouldn’t be the first time. We can’t discount anything yet. Let’s just give them a bit of time, hope forensics turn up something, and have at them again in the morning.”
“Good idea, sir.” Annie finished her pint.
“Annie, before you go…?”
“Sir?”
“I don’t mean to pry, but you and Alan…?”
“Just colleagues, sir. And friends.”
Gristhorpe seemed pleased with her answer. “Aye,” he said. “Good. Good. Get some sleep, lass. I’ll see you bright and early in the morning.”
The pub was closer to the riverside than the city center, though even that wasn’t very far. Banks parked by the Rivergate Centre and walked the rest of the way. It was a pleasant evening, not a leaf stirring in the warm air. The sunset painted the sky bright orange and crimson. Banks could see Venus low on the horizon, and the constellations were slowly taking shape overhead. He wished he could recognize them all, but he could only make out Hercules. That made him think of those dreadful historical spectacles he used to love in the early sixties, with cheap special effects, Steve Reeves, and a scantily clad Sylva Koscina.