Myers seemed to puff himself up. ‘Well... er... as you put it like that, yes, we are certainly aware of the constrictions the police work under, and we’re more than happy to help. After all, it means we’re helping ourselves, doesn’t it?’
‘It does,’ said Banks. ‘Glad you see it that way.’
‘But it doesn’t alter the fact that I’m still afraid I don’t know anything. We never did patrol Hollyfield, and these days there seems even less point, as there’s hardly anyone left living there.’
‘But did you or any of your fellow watchers patrol the park that Sunday night? Did you see Samir suddenly appear there, and in the confusion of the moment, stab him?’
‘That’s absurd!’ said Myers. ‘Now you’re accusing me of murder.’ He got up. ‘I want my solicitor. Immediately.’
‘Calm down, Mr Myers,’ said Banks. ‘Keep your hair on. I’m merely asking you a question: did you or any of your colleagues kill Samir Boulad?’
Myers eased himself back into his chair. ‘Then the answer’s obvious. No. But I suppose that’s what you’d expect me to say, whether I’m guilty or innocent. And I can assure you that I’m innocent.’
Banks shrugged. ‘I’ve known plenty of murderers who like to confess.’
‘I am not a murderer. And for your information, there was no one patrolling the park that night.’
‘Are you certain about that?’
‘Of course I am.’
At that moment a tall, athletic boy with golden curls flopping over his pasty face came through the back gate; he stopped dead when he saw his father sitting with two strangers. Myers looked as if this new presence was the last thing he wanted.
‘Uh, sorry,’ said the boy, making to sidle past them and go into the kitchen.
Banks stood up. ‘You must be Christopher Myers?’
Chris shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. ‘Uh, yeah, that’s right.’
Banks introduced himself and Annie. ‘Why don’t you join us for a minute?’ he said. ‘There’s a free chair.’
‘Er, I think I’d better... you know...’
‘Please, sit down,’ said Banks, a steelier edge to his voice. ‘This won’t take long.’
Chris eased himself on to the chair, which was far too small for him. He stretched his long legs out to one side.
‘We were just talking about the park,’ Banks went on. ‘You might have noticed some activity down there today?’
‘Yeah. I wondered what was going on.’
‘We’ve got new information,’ said Banks. ‘We’ve got the CSIs and forensic officers going through the place with fine-tooth combs.’
‘Oh, right.’
‘Ever been down there, Christopher?’
‘Chris. Everyone calls me Chris. The park? Well, sure. I mean, I grew up here. We used to go and play on the swings and stuff.’
‘I mean more recently.’
‘I’ve passed through it, you know, but it’s not somewhere I’d hang out.’
‘Why’s that?’
Chris shrugged. ‘Dunno. Just isn’t, that’s all.’
‘Do you pass through it on your way to number twenty-six Hollyfield Lane to buy your drugs?’
‘My what?’
‘Don’t listen to him, son,’ said Myers.
‘Are you sure you don’t sneak down to the park for the occasional spliff?’
‘Mr Banks!’ It was Granville Myers again, half-standing. ‘That’s a bit much, isn’t it? First you accuse me, and now you accuse my son.’
‘I wasn’t aware I was accusing him of anything except smoking an occasional joint,’ said Banks. ‘That’s illegal, but we tend to overlook it most of the time.’
‘You’re insinuating that Chris was in the park on Sunday. That he killed this Arab boy.’
Chris looked confused. ‘What’s going on, Dad?’ he asked. ‘Who’s accusing who of what?’
‘Were you?’ Banks asked. ‘In the park when Samir was killed?’
‘Of course not,’ Chris said.
‘No harm in asking,’ said Banks. ‘Anyway, we’ve come up with a lot of interesting new trace evidence from the park, so we’ll know the truth soon enough.’
‘Evidence of what?’ Chris asked.
‘I’m afraid I can’t say at the moment. Just that it puts a whole new complexion on things, and it may well send the investigation spinning off in a whole different direction.’
‘Well, that’s great,’ said Chris, but he didn’t sound as if he meant it. He was twitchy now, eager to leave his chair. ‘I’ve got an exam tomorrow morning. I’d better... you know...’
‘Right. Sorry to have kept you,’ said Banks.
Chris got up and walked towards the kitchen door. ‘Good luck,’ Banks called after him.
Chris half-turned. ‘What with?’
‘The exam.’
‘Oh, yeah. Right. Thanks.’ And he hurried inside.
‘Seems a bit on edge,’ Banks said. ‘A bit twitchy.’
Myers scowled. ‘Hardly bloody surprising, is it, the way you treated him just now. As if he doesn’t have enough on his plate already with these exams to worry about. You’re jeopardising the boy’s future with these wild accusations. Do you realise that, Superintendent? In fact, I’m going to—’
‘I suppose it prepares them for later life,’ said Banks.
‘What?’
‘Exams. The stress.’
Myers seemed confused. ‘Is there... I mean, I’ve had enough of this. I need to go and see if Chris needs anything. If you...’
Banks glanced at Annie, and they both stood up. ‘No, that’s fine, Mr Myers. We’re finished for the moment. We know where to find you if we need to talk to you or Chris again. It’s a great little spot you’ve got here. Easy to settle in for the afternoon, I should imagine.’
‘If you’re finished, then.’
‘Right. We’re off. Don’t get up. You stay here. We’ll see ourselves out.’
‘Believe me, it’s no trouble,’ said Myers.
Chris Myers was nowhere in sight. His father stuck with Banks and Annie all the way to the front door and seemed to close it behind them with a great deal of relief.
Chapter 14
The following morning, Banks left Annie to dig up as much background as she could on the Elmet Hill Neighbourhood Watch and its members and took Gerry with him to St Botolph’s. While it seemed unlikely that a member of a Neighbourhood Watch group would murder an interloper, it wasn’t entirely impossible, Banks thought; especially if tensions were running high in the area, as they perhaps were after the burglaries and the sexual assault on Lisa Bartlett. Any members of the Watch Annie discovered to have criminal records would certainly be brought in for questioning.
Banks took the road north-west out of Eastvale, skirting the top of Elmet Hill, and turned off at the second exit of the big roundabout at the edge of town, which led deeper into the dale, to Lyndgarth and beyond. It was a B-road, which meant the surface wasn’t always smooth, and in places it was so narrow that there was a need for passing places. Luckily, they encountered little traffic coming from the other direction. Trees lined the road in a variety of gnarly shapes and sizes. As he drove, Banks played a selection of Vivaldi arias sung by Cecilia Bartoli, and Gerry seemed happy to sit back in silence and enjoy the music flowing over her.
Banks had been asked so many times why he didn’t have lower ranking members of his team drive him around, and he always answered that he preferred to drive himself. It was partly a control issue — he didn’t fully trust anyone else — and partly because the Porsche inherited from his brother had come to fit him like an old glove, despite the various insurance forms and waivers he had to sign before being allowed to use his own car at work rather than some wreck from the police garage. This way, if he got involved in a police chase and smashed it up, the county wouldn’t be liable.