“Alan, you’re pale as ashes. Are you all right?”
Banks moved away from the doorway to let Annie have a look. “I’ve got a daughter not much older than her,” he said.
Annie frowned and edged forward. Banks watched her and noticed the way her eyeballs flicked around, taking in all the details: the body’s unusual position, the broken mirror, the white powder, the spilled cosmetics, the contusions. Some of the buttons on Emily’s black silk blouse had popped, and the dark spider tattoo was visible against the pale skin below her navel ring. Annie touched nothing but seemed to absorb everything. And when she had finished, even she was pale.
“I see what you mean,” she said when they had both gone to stand outside the toilet again. “Poor cow. What do you think happened?”
“It looks as if someone got in there with her and beat the living shit out of her, but that doesn’t make sense.”
“No,” said Annie. “There’s hardly enough room for one, let alone space to swing a few punches.”
“And the stall was locked,” Banks added. “I suppose she could have been beaten elsewhere, then crawled inside and locked it herself before she died, maybe in a vain attempt to keep her attacker out…” He shrugged. It seemed a pretty thin thesis. Even if she had locked herself in there to escape a beating, how had she ended up arched crabwise over the toilet? It was the most unusual body position Banks had ever seen, and though he had a glimmer of an idea about what might have caused it, he needed the expert knowledge of a doctor. “We’ll have to wait for the doc. Ah, speak of the devil.”
Dr. Burns walked across the dance floor and greeted them. “Where is she?” he asked.
Banks pointed toward the ladies’. “Try not to disturb things too much. We haven’t got photographs yet.”
“I’ll do my best.” Burns passed under the tape.
“Call the SOCOs and the photographer,” Banks said to Annie. He gestured toward Rickerd and lowered his voice. “DC Rickerd phoned me, and I wanted to be certain we really had a crime on our hands before making a hue and cry.”
“What about the people in the club?”
“Nobody leaves. Including the bar staff. Chris Jessup’s lads have instructions to keep them all where they are. There’s no telling how many left between the boyfriend’s phone call and Jessup’s arrival, though.”
“It’s still early for this kind of place,” said Annie. “People would be more likely to be arriving than leaving.”
“Unless they’d just killed someone. Ask one of the uniforms to take everyone’s name and address.”
Annie turned to go.
Banks called after her. “And, Annie?”
“Yes?”
“Be prepared for one of the biggest shitstorms that’s ever come your way as a copper.”
“Why?”
“Because the victim’s Emily Riddle, the chief constable’s daughter.”
“Jesus Christ,” said Annie.
“Exactly.”
Annie went off to attend to her duties while Banks collared Darren Hirst, the boy who had found the body. He seemed still in shock, trembling, tears in his eyes. Banks could understand that, having seen Emily’s body himself. He had seen many forms of death in his years as a policeman, and though he never quite got inured to it, he certainly had an advantage over the boy. Leaving a uniformed constable guarding the entrance to the toilet, Banks led Darren to an empty table. The club’s manager hovered nearby, clearly wanting to know what was going on but not daring to ask. Banks waved him over.
“What time did you open tonight?” he asked.
“Ten o’clock. It starts slow. We don’t usually get much of a crowd until after eleven.”
“Has this place got surveillance cameras?”
“On order.”
“Great. Bar still open?”
“The other policeman said I shouldn’t serve any more drinks,” he said.
“Quite right, too,” said Banks, “but this lad’s had a bit of a shock and I can’t say I’ve had a pleasant surprise, either, so bring us a couple of double brandies, will you?”
“I thought you weren’t supposed to drink on duty.”
“Just bring the drinks.”
“All right, mate. No need to get shirty.” The bartender strode off. When he came back, he plonked the drinks down on the table. The measures looked small, but Banks paid him anyway.
“When can I go home?” the man asked. “Only, if we’re not serving drinks, we’re not making any money, see, and there’s not a lot of point staying open.”
“You’re not open,” said Banks. “And if I get much more of that crap out of you, you won’t be opening again in the foreseeable future. There’s a dead girl in your toilets, in case you hadn’t heard.”
“Fucking drug addicts,” the bartender muttered as he stalked away.
“All right, Darren,” said Banks when the bartender was out of earshot. “Like to tell me what happened?” He lit a cigarette. Darren refused his offer of one. The brandy was poor quality, but its bite put a bit of warmth back in Banks’s veins.
“She said she wasn’t feeling well,” Darren began, after a sip of brandy. A little color crept back into his cheeks.
“Back up a bit,” said Banks. “How well did you know her? Was she your girlfriend?”
“No, nothing like that. I mean, I know her, like, in the group. We were just friends, that’s all. We all hang out together. She’s a bit weird and wild, is Emily, but she can be a lot of fun. We started in the Cross Keys, down Castle Hill.”
“I know it.”
“After that we just walked around town a bit and dropped in for a quick drink at the Queen’s Arms. Then we came here.” He pointed to a group of shell-shocked kids at a table across the room. “The others are over there.”
“What time did you meet in the Cross Keys?”
“About half past six, seven o’clock.”
“Do you remember what time Emily got there?”
“She was the last to arrive. Must’ve been about seven, maybe a few minutes later.”
So that left Emily four hours unaccounted for between the three-o’clock appointment she had mentioned to Banks and meeting her friends in the Cross Keys.
“How did she seem?”
“Fine.”
“Normal?”
“For Emily.”
“And what time did you come here?”
“About half ten. It was pretty quiet. Like the barman says, it doesn’t usually get going till half past eleven or so. But they serve drinks, and there’s music, so you can dance.”
“How many people would you say were here?”
“Not a lot. They kept coming in, like, but it wasn’t that busy.”
“More than now?”
Darren looked around. “No, about this many.”
“What happened next?”
“We got some drinks in, then Emily went to the toilet. We were dancing after that, I remember, then she said she wasn’t feeling very well.”
“What did she say was wrong with her?”
Darren shook his head. “Just that she didn’t feel well. She said she was getting a stiff neck.” He rubbed his own neck and looked at Banks. “Was it drugs? It was drugs, wasn’t it?”
“Why do you ask that?”
“Just the way she was behaving. You know, like she was flying up there in her own world. Like I said, she’s pretty wild.”
“How well did you know Emily, Darren?”
“I told you, hardly at all. When she was home from school for the holidays she’d hang out with me and Rick and Jackie and Tina over there. That’s all. I was never her boyfriend or anything. She wasn’t interested in me like that. We just danced sometimes, went out with the gang. Had fun.” He ran his hand over his greasy dark hair.