“Yes,” said Banks.
“And how seriously are we taking Andrew Hurst and Mark Siddons?”
“Not very. Hurst’s weird. I mean, if it turns out that the art forgery angle’s a blind alley and the fires were set by some nutter who just likes to set fires, then I’d look closely at him again. But he’s got no connection with McMahon, Gardiner and the rest. Neither does Mark Siddons, except that he happened to be a neighbor of McMahon’s. Mark has his problems, but I don’t think arson is one of them. Besides, he has a good alibi. You said so yourself.”
“I could talk to Mandy Patterson again. Go in a bit harder.”
“No,” said Banks. “What could she possibly gain by giving Mark Siddons an alibi for murder? If Mark had wanted rid of Tina, there were far easier and more reliable ways of doing it than fixing himself up with a dodgy alibi and setting fire to Thomas McMahon’s boat.”
“Which brings us back to Leslie Whitaker,” said Annie.
“What’s his educational background?”
“He attended Strathclyde University from 1980 to 1983. Unfortunately, there’s no evidence that links him to either Gardiner or Masefield, but we’re still looking. And the way he’s taken off certainly makes him seem more suspicious. That and some of his recent financial idiosyncrasies. According to the auditor, his business books are a bit of a mess, to say the least.”
“I suppose if he was involved in some sort of scam with McMahon, he had to hide the profits somehow. Tell me your thoughts, Annie.”
“McMahon was known to be a good imitator, and he gained access to period materials through Whitaker’s bookshop, and no doubt from other sources. Maybe Whitaker, Moore, or whoever set it up, enlisted his old buddies to help him in a forgery scam and they fell out?”
“Okay,” said Banks. “That makes sense up to a point. But what parts did Gardiner and Masefield play?”
“Masefield provided the identity for the killer to remain anonymous in his dealings with McMahon,” said Annie. “Whenever they met, he hired a Jeep Cherokee in Masefield’s name, no doubt so we wouldn’t be able to trace him. Remember, when Masefield died, or was killed, our man had his post redirected to a post office box, used his bank accounts, paid his bills. Assumed his identity.”
“What about Gardiner?”
“I don’t know yet. But he must have played some part in it all. Don’t forget the Turners and the money we found in his safe. They can’t be just coincidence.”
“No. I haven’t forgotten them. But none of this gets us any closer to who that person actually is,” said Banks. “Even if it is Giles bloody Moore, he’s not going by that name now, and that name probably won’t lead us to him. He’s slippery. We’re dealing with a chameleon, Annie. A damn clever one, too. Did you find out anything else about Moore? Anything at all that might help us?”
“No,” said Annie. “Not yet. It’s a lot of legwork. And legwork takes time, and more legs than we’ve got right now.”
“I can talk to Red Ron about manpower.”
“Thanks,” said Annie. “I could do with a couple more good researchers, at least. But for the moment, my money’s still on Leslie Whitaker. Just because we haven’t been able to find a past connection between him and Gardiner doesn’t mean one doesn’t exist, or even that we need one. I mean, maybe McMahon himself is the link. Maybe Whitaker put the idea to McMahon and McMahon recruited Gardiner.”
“Maybe,” said Banks. “We’ll have to ask him when we find him.” He finished his tea and let the silence stretch a moment before asking, “How are you and Phil getting along, by the way?”
“Fine,” Annie said. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Where is he, anyway? I haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”
“He’s down in London dealing with the Turners. You know that. Why the sudden interest?”
“Nothing. Just wondering, that’s all.”
Annie looked him in the eye. “Phil’s right, isn’t he? What I said earlier. You denied it at the time, but you didn’t like him right from the start, did you? I mean, you never really gave him a chance, did you?”
“I told you, I’ve got nothing against him,” Banks said. But if truth be told, he had a very uneasy feeling about Phil Keane, like an itch he couldn’t quite scratch, and though he wouldn’t tell Annie this, he was going to keep on digging into the man’s background until he was satisfied one way or another. “I don’t want to start another argument, Annie,” Banks said. “I just asked you how you two were getting along.”
“Yes, but it’s not as simple as that, is it? It never is with you. I can tell from your tone of voice. There’s always another agenda. What is it? What do you know? What are you getting at?”
Banks spread his hands. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Is it jealousy? Is that what it is, Alan? Because, honestly, if it’s that, if that’s what it is, I’ll just get a fucking transfer out of here.”
Banks didn’t remember ever hearing Annie swear before, and it shocked him. “Look,” he said, “it’s not jealousy. Okay? I just don’t want to see you get hurt, that’s all.”
“Why should I get hurt? And who do you think you are? My big brother? I can take care of myself, thank you very much.”
And with that, Annie tossed her serviette on the remains of her toasted tea cake and strode out of the café. Was it Banks’s imagination, or did the bell ping just that little more loudly when she left?
Annie spent the rest of the day avoiding Banks. It wasn’t difficult; she had plenty more paperwork to hide behind, and she took Winsome along to Whitaker’s shop, which they entered through the backdoor, leaving no sign that they had been there, and borrowed the photograph. A quick trip to Harrogate didn’t provide the conclusive answers she had hoped for. It was over twenty years ago, after all, said Elaine Hough, and Whitaker’s chin and eyes were wrong. Even so, that didn’t let Whitaker off the hook for the fires as far as Annie was concerned.
Had she overreacted to Banks in the Golden Grill? She didn’t know. There had just been something about the way he kept on bringing up the subject of Phil that irritated her. Perhaps she should have let it go; after all, that would have been easy enough. But if she was going to carry on seeing Phil and working with Banks, then something would have to change, and it wasn’t going to be Annie.
Banks clearly had something on his mind, and she wished she knew what it was. Had he been investigating Phil behind her back? Had he found out something? If so, what? Annie dismissed her fears as absurd. If Banks had found any dirt on Phil, he would have made sure she was the first to know. Otherwise, what was the point? Except to hurt her. Lash out because of his jealousy.
But the suspicion and anxiety persisted throughout the day and made it hard for her to concentrate. Late in the afternoon, by which time Annie already knew she was going to be working late into the evening, the phone rang.
“Annie, it’s Phil here.”
“Well, hello. It’s nice to hear from you, stranger.”
“I just thought I’d let you know that the consensus of opinion is that the Turner sketches and watercolor are forgeries.”
If Annie was a bit disappointed that Phil was calling her on business, she tried not to let it show in her voice.
“Oh. Why’s that?” she asked.
“It’s nothing specific. Just a number of things adding up, or not adding up. Some of the scientific tests indicated the paper used was slightly later than the dates of the sketches. Then there’s the style. Little details. I told you Turner was hard to fake. When you add to that the lack of provenance, the loose sketches and the coincidence of these pieces turning up so quickly after the major find, then…”
“What about fingerprints? In the paint, I mean.”