“Did he ever hit you?”
“No. He knew I wouldn’t stand for that. It was just… oh, you know, if I came home late or something, he’d always be waiting up and go on at me, calling me a slut and a whore and stuff. It was mean. Nasty. Then he was all pathetic the next morning, telling me he loved me and buying me presents and all that when all he really wanted was to get into my knickers.”
“I still don’t understand why he would lie to me. He believed I was your father. Surely he must know I’d find out the truth when I found you?”
Emily laughed. “Silly. It’s the last thing I’d tell my father. Think about it.”
Banks did. She was right. “But you’re telling me.”
“That’s different. You’re not my father. You’re not like him at all. You’re…”
“I’m what?”
“Well, you’re more like a friend. Cute, too.”
“I’m flattered, Emily, but you’d better not tell your father that.”
She giggled and put her hand to her mouth, as if embarrassed to catch herself out in a juvenile act. “You’re right about that.”
“Have you heard from Craig at all since you’ve been back in Yorkshire?”
“No. I’ve not seen or heard from him since that night outside the club.”
“What about Ruth?”
“I’ve talked to her a couple of times on the phone. But I didn’t give her much cause to like me, did I? I think she fancied Craig and I took him away from her.”
“It was as much his choice. Besides, she’ll get over it.”
“Yeah… well… Ruth’s got enough problems without me adding to them.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. She’s just a bit fucked up. Couldn’t you tell?”
“She did seem strange.” Not much stranger than Emily herself, though, Banks thought. He pushed his empty plate aside and lit a cigarette. It wasn’t as if there was anything to be gained by trying to act as a positive, nonsmoking role model to Emily. “Are you going to tell me what happened in London that night?” he asked. “Before you arrived at the hotel.”
Emily licked at the rim of her glass. “I’ve been thinking about it.”
“And?”
She looked around, then leaned forward conspiratorially. “I’ve decided I will.”
Banks could smell the Advocaat on her breath. He leaned back. “I’m all ears.”
Annie had not been completely honest with Banks, she admitted to herself the next afternoon as she drove out to the Daleview Business Park to meet Charlie Courage’s boss at SecuTec, Ian Bennett. As usual, when she found it difficult to talk about something, she had been flip, all style and no substance. Working out of Eastvale, with Banks, bothered her more than she had been able to tell him. It wasn’t that she couldn’t separate her job from her personal life – she felt she could do the job perfectly well, no matter with whom she worked – but so much proximity to Banks might weaken her resolve to end their relationship. After all, she had given him up not because she didn’t feel anything for him, but because she found herself feeling too much too soon, and because he brought too many complications from his previous relationship with him, a marriage of over twenty years. Working with him again, she had to admit to herself that she still fancied him.
To hell with it, she told herself, sneaking a quick glance at the map on the car seat beside her. Almost there. She would just do her bloody job and let the rest take care of itself. One thing her brief romance with Banks had done was renew her faith in the Job, make her think about why she had become a policewoman in the first place. Now she had a better sense of herself, more confidence, and she was damn well going for inspector. Not that the Job was everything, mind you – she wasn’t going to make that mistake and end up a dried-up old spinster with no life other than work – but she was willing to commit herself as much as it took. And because her work life was going to be hard, she wanted to keep her personal life simple. With Banks in her bed, it wouldn’t be.
The black wrought-iron railings to her left bore a large painted sign saying DALEVIEW BUSINESS PARK, along with a list of businesses located there. Annie turned through the gates, which were probably intended more for decoration than security, she thought, and looked for the SecuTec office.
The business park consisted of a large, one-story red brick building, built in the shape of a pentagon and divided into a number of different units, each with its own logo, and some with showcase windows and parking spots for two or three cars out front. Though it wasn’t a shopping precinct as such, the pottery shop and the needlecraft center had outlets there, along with a stair-lift company, a furniture workshop and an Aga center. The other units were taken up by offices: a company that rented holiday cottages, for example, and a mail-order exercise-video distribution company, Annie noticed. She wondered if that was some sort of euphemism for what they really sold. If it was a front for a porn operation, then it might be connected with Charlie Courage’s murder.
Ian Bennett opened the office door for her before she even reached it.
“DS Cabbot,” she said, fishing for her warrant card.
“It’s all right,” said Bennett, smiling. “I believe you. Come on in.”
She followed him into the small office.
“So this is what the well-dressed young policewoman is wearing these days,” he said, looking her up and down.
Under her navy-blue raincoat, which hung open, she was wearing boots, black tights, a short denim skirt and a white sweater, none of which she felt was particularly weird. What did he expect? A uniform? A twinset and pearls?
Bennett was younger than she had expected from the voice on the telephone, probably about her age, early thirties, with thick curly dark hair and more of a tan than you can get hanging around Yorkshire in winter. He looked as if he played sports to keep in shape, something that involved a lot of running around, such as tennis or squash, and while his salary probably didn’t stretch as far as Armani, he was wearing high-end designer casuals that must have set him back a bob or two. A mobile phone bulged ostentatiously from the pocket of his zip-up suede jacket. Annie guessed that the BMW she had parked next to was probably his.
“So this is what the well-dressed young yuppie-on-the-go is wearing to impress the girls these days,” she countered, aware as soon as she had done so that it wasn’t the best way to start an interview. Big problem, Annie: You’ve never been able to suffer fools gladly, which gives you at least one thing in common with Alan Banks. Stop thinking about him.
SecuTec had only a small office at Daleview, where Charlie Courage had spent his nights on guard duty. Annie glanced around and saw that he’d had a small television for company, along with facilities for making tea and a microwave oven for heating up his midnight snack. The office was too small for the two of them, and it smelled of warm plastic. Annie sat on what would have been Charlie’s desk and Ian Bennett leaned against the opposite wall by a company calendar. Like so many of those things, it showed a buxom, skinny-waisted smiling blonde in a bikini. She was holding a spanner.
Bennett flushed at her insult. “I suppose I deserved that,” he said, running his hand over his hair. “I always say something silly when I meet an attractive woman. Sorry. Can we start again?”
Annie gave him a low-wattage smile, the kind she reserved for the masses. “Best all round,” she said.
Bennett cleared his throat. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you very much,” he began. “I didn’t know Mr. Courage well.”
“When did he last work?”
“Sunday night. He was on the four-to-midnight shift.”