‘Doesn’t the artist have any rights here?’ Ray cut in. ‘I assume I’ve got some sort of copyright on this, or do you lot take that, too?’
Gerry ignored him and went on. She’s learning, Annie thought. ‘We’d be playing our hand, though, if we got it in the media. Tipping him the wink. He might scarper, if he’s still around.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Annie. ‘If he’s still around, he’s around for a reason...’
‘But why?’
‘To watch us look like fools,’ said Annie. ‘Or because he hasn’t finished.’
‘Finished what?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Even so, we should get the sketch out there. We still need to know who he is.’
‘We could just say we’re anxious to speak with him in connection with a recent occurrence,’ Annie suggested. ‘Something vague like that. Covers a multitude of possibilities.’
‘But he could still go to ground if he sees his likeness in the papers or on telly.’
‘It’s a risk we’ve got to take. But I don’t think he’s going anywhere. I reckon he thinks he’s safe. Besides, how else are we going to find him? Do you have any better suggestions?’
‘Not really,’ Gerry admitted. ‘I suppose we could always do it more discreetly. Door to door.’
Annie rolled her eyes. ‘Just think how long that would take. And think of the manpower. The AC would never authorise the budget.’
‘Even though we’re pretty certain what happened?’
‘Even so. And just how certain are we?’
‘Well, thanks to Jazz we now know that the blood on the hammer is Edgeworth’s,’ said Gerry. ‘And that probably proves that Edgeworth didn’t shoot up the wedding party, hit himself on the head with the hammer and then shoot himself.’
‘It’s possible the blood might have got there earlier,’ Annie said. ‘A cut or something. I don’t want to muddy the waters, but after all, it was Edgeworth’s hammer and Edgeworth’s blood. He could have hit his thumb banging in a nail or something.’
‘I know we always have to bear in mind the possibility that we might be wrong,’ Gerry said, ‘but in this case I think the odds are pretty good that we’ve got it right. Remember, there’s what Dr Glendenning said about the blow to the head to factor in, too, and according to Paula Fletcher the man in the sketch was after buying two sets of the same clothes — the same brand and colour that we found in Edgeworth’s cellar.’
‘There’s another thing we haven’t followed up on yet,’ said Annie.
‘What?’
‘He couldn’t buy the two outfits he wanted at Paula’s branch of the shop, so he didn’t buy anything. Where did he get the clothes? He had to have got them from somewhere. Another branch, perhaps?’
‘Right,’ said Gerry. ‘They were on sale that week. It’s worth checking, and we do have the sketch to show around now. Maybe someone will recognise him, and we’ll find a credit-card receipt after all. Does this mean Doug and I have to carry on with our shop crawl?’
‘So this is how you two like to spend your Saturday nights, is it?’ said Ray, who, Annie noticed, had been glancing from one to the other as they talked the way people watch a tennis ball going back and forth.
‘I thought you’d been quiet for too long,’ Annie said. ‘What is it you want to do? Go dancing, go clubbing or something?’
Ray topped up his glass. ‘Well, as I’m in the company of two lovely young women, my muse and my wonderful daughter, I do think we could come up with something a bit better than sitting around talking about bloodstained hammers and murder.’
Annie jerked her head towards the entertainment room. ‘Why don’t you go in there and listen to the music on Alan’s headphones, loud as you want, then we wouldn’t have to put up with it blaring in our ears while we’re trying to work.’
Ray studied his drink and narrowed his eyes. ‘You can be cruel sometimes, you know. I don’t know where you got it from. “How sharper than a serpent’s tooth...” Your mother didn’t have a cruel bone in her body.’
Annie sighed. ‘Dad. Just let us finish. Please? We’ll join you in a while. OK? Then we’ll have a party, a dance or two. Gerry might even let you sketch her. She’ll be keeping her clothes on, though.’
Gerry gave Annie a look of horror. Ray seemed to brighten at the possibility of fun later, picked up his bottle and glass and headed for the entertainment room singing along with Pink Floyd as he went. The music in the conservatory stopped. He’d found the headphones.
‘I quite liked it,’ Gerry said.
‘What?’
‘Pink Floyd. They’re good. The boss said he was going to play me Ummagumma in the car some time, but Ray beat him to it. But why did you tell him he could sketch me? I’d be so embarrassed.’
‘Don’t worry, he’ll have forgotten in half an hour, and I’ll get you out of here without the slightest stain on your honour. You have to know how to deal with Ray. Now you know what it was like for me growing up.’
‘How did you manage it?’
‘He’s my dad. I love him.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t understand your relationship at all,’ she said. ‘I mean, my parents are... well, just normal.’
Annie laughed. ‘Well, you certainly couldn’t say that about Ray.’ Growing up in the artists’ colony, her mother dying young, she and Ray had never perfected a normal father — daughter relationship, whatever that was, and in some ways Annie regarded Ray as the child while she played the indulgent parent. But that was too complicated to explain to Gerry. Just then the music came on again, a loud scream followed by thumping drums and screeching guitar feedback.
‘Oops,’ said Gerry. ‘Perhaps I spoke too soon about liking the music.’
Annie glanced at her watch. ‘The headphones have come off. He’s getting impatient. Honestly, he’s got the attention span of a two-year-old, except when he’s working. Then you can’t budge him for love nor money. Let’s get out of here. Leave him to it. He probably won’t even notice. Come back to mine. I’ve got a couple of bottles, and we can have a nice quiet natter. You can crash there if you like. You won’t have to drive home.’ It was a step, she thought, the hand of friendship outstretched, beyond the job.
Gerry seemed to consider the option, then she stood up and said, ‘Why not? Let’s do it.’ And they tiptoed through the kitchen to the front door, got their coats and drove off.
Banks felt as if someone had pulled the floor from under him. He was spinning, in free-fall, the sea outside was deafening, the waves threatening to engulf him. For a while he couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t get back his hold on reality. Then he heard Julie’s voice cutting through the roaring. ‘Alan? Alan? Are you all right, Alan? I’m sorry I didn’t mean to give you such a shock. I was so certain you must have suspected.’
‘I can be very thick sometimes,’ Banks mumbled. ‘Or so I’ve been told.’ The world began to settle back into its proper order. Even the sea sounded calmer. The candle flames reflected in the bay window like two bright eyes. Banks took a gulp of wine. Julie refilled his glass.
‘But why didn’t she tell me?’ he asked when he found his voice.
‘Think about it. You’d have done the decent thing. You were halfway there already. You’d have persuaded her to have the baby and get married. I think you may underestimate how persuasive you could be. And how malleable Emily was. She seemed strong, determined, but she was so uncertain about what she wanted to do with her life that she’d have taken direction from someone as solid and resolute as you. Someone as dependable. And she knew that. That’s why she didn’t tell you. She didn’t want to give you the chance to persuade her to change her mind.’