‘Where was he going?’
‘He was heading for the Pennine Way, then up to Swaledale.’
‘Do you know where he was intending to stay?’
Sam shook his head. ‘No. He just said he’d find somewhere on the way. There are plenty of places; it’s a very popular route.’
‘Did he say anything to you about visiting the hanging valley on his way?’
‘No. I wouldn’t have been surprised, though. He used to play there when he was a kid, or so he said.’
‘What did you do after he’d gone?’
‘I drove to Eastvale to do some shopping. I always do on a Friday morning.’
‘What shops did you go to?’
‘What is this? Are you trying to tell me I’m a suspect in the murder of my friend?’
‘Just answer the bloody question.’
‘All right, Inspector, there’s no—’
‘It’s Chief Inspector.’ Banks didn’t usually pull his rank, but Sam Greenock had rubbed him up the wrong way.
‘Chief Inspector, then. Where did I go? I went to Carter’s for some seeds, peat moss and fertilizer. Katie’s trying to get a vegetable patch going in the back garden. It’ll save us a bit of money in the long run.’
‘Is that all?’
‘No. But they’ll remember me there. I called in at a newsagent’s for some magazines — that one on King Street opposite the school road.’
‘I know it.’
‘I’m a regular there, too.’
‘Thanks, that’ll do fine for a start. What kind of car do you drive?’
‘A Land Rover. It’s in the garage.’
‘And you, Mrs Greenock, what did you do after Bernard Allen left?’
‘Me? Housework. What else?’
Banks turned back to Sam. ‘You met Allen in Leeds about ten years ago, is that right?’
‘Yes. In Armley. We lived just off Tong Road and the Allens came to live next door after they gave up the farm. Bernie and I were about the same age, so we palled up.’
‘What was he doing then?’
‘Just finishing at university. It was only York, so he was home most weekends and holidays. We used to go for a jar or two every Saturday night.’
‘How did the family take the move?’
Sam shrugged. ‘They adapted. At first Mr Allen, Bernie’s dad, went around as if he’d been kicked out of paradise. It must have been very hard for him though, swapping farm work for a crummy factory job. Hard on the pride.’
‘Is that what he said?’
‘Never in so many words, no. You could just tell. He’s a tough old bird anyway, so they survived.’
‘And Bernard?’
‘He tried to fit in. But you know what it’s like. He got his degree and all, but he couldn’t get the kind of work he wanted. He lived at home and did all kinds of odd jobs — mushroom picking at Greenhill Nurseries, sweeping factory yards, production line… all dull routine work.’
‘Is that when he decided to go to Canada?’
‘After a year or so of it, yes. He’d had enough. Someone he knew from university had already gone over and said it wasn’t too hard to get teaching jobs in the colleges. He said they paid well, too.’
‘Who was this?’
‘His name was Bob Morgan. I think he and Bernie taught at the same place, Toronto Community College.’
‘Was Bernie homesick?’
‘I suppose so. I mean, you don’t forget your roots, do you? But he stayed. One thing leads to another. He made friends over there, got married, divorced.’
‘What was his state of mind while he was staying here?’
‘He was fine. Cheerful. Happy to be back.’
‘Did he talk about coming home to stay?’
Sam shook his head. ‘He knew better than that. There aren’t any jobs for him.’
‘So he didn’t seem unusually homesick or depressed, and he didn’t say he was planning to come back.’
‘No.’
Banks lit a cigarette and studied Katie’s profile. She was a blank; he had no idea what she was thinking.
‘How long have you been in Swainshead?’ he asked Sam.
‘Six years.’
‘And it’s going well?’
Sam nodded. ‘Can’t complain. We’re hardly millionaires, but we like the life.’
‘And you, Mrs Greenock?’
Katie turned and focused on him. ‘Yes. It’s better than cleaning rooms at the Queen’s Hotel.’
‘Did Bernie have any other friends in the village apart from you?’
‘Not really,’ Sam answered. ‘See, most of the kids he grew up with had moved away. A lot do these days. They see the good life on telly and soon as they’re old enough there’s no stopping them. Like Denny, Bernie’s older brother. Off to Australia like a shot, he was.’
‘Was Bernie friendly with the Colliers?’ Esther Haines had said not, but Banks thought she might have been prejudiced by her own opinions of Nicholas and Stephen.
‘Well, I’d hardly say they were friends. Acquaintances, more like. But we had an evening or two in the White Rose together. I think Bernie was always a bit uncomfortable around Stephen and Nick though, them having been his landlords so to speak, the local gentry and all.’
Banks nodded. ‘Can you think of anyone in the village who might have wanted him out of the way?’
‘Bernie? Good Lord, no.’
‘He had no enemies?’
‘None that I know of. Not here.’
‘What about in Leeds?’
‘Not there either, as far as I know. Maybe somebody followed him over from Canada, an enemy he’d made there?’
‘Mrs Greenock,’ Banks said, turning to Katie again, ‘do you know of anyone with a reason for getting rid of Bernard Allen?’
Katie hesitated before answering. ‘No. He was harmless. Just a friendly sort of person. Nobody would want to hurt him.’
‘One more thing: what was he carrying when he left here?’
‘Carrying?’ Sam said. ‘Oh, I see. His belongings. A big blue rucksack with his clothes, passport, money, a few books.’
‘And what was he wearing?’
‘I don’t really remember. Do you, Katie?’
Katie shook her head. ‘It was a warm day, though,’ she said. ‘That I do remember. I think he was just wearing an open-necked shirt. White. And trousers, not jeans. It’s only the amateurs wear jeans for walking.’
‘They’re too heavy, you see,’ Sam explained. ‘Especially if they get wet. We try to give a bit of advice to our guests sometimes, and we always make sure we know where they’re going if they’re due back in the evening. That way, if they don’t return, we can let the Mountain Rescue post know where they were heading.’
Banks nodded. ‘Very sensible. Have you any vacancies at the moment?’
‘I think so,’ Sam said.
‘Six and eight,’ Katie added.
‘Good, we’ll take them.’
‘You’re staying here?’
‘There’ll be quite a lot of questions to ask in Swainshead,’ Banks said, ‘and it’s fifty miles to Eastvale and back. We’ll be staying here tonight at least.’
‘One’s a single,’ Katie said. ‘The other’s a double.’
Banks smiled at her. ‘Fine. Sergeant Hatchley will take the single.’ It was patently unfair, Banks knew. He was much more slightly built than the well padded Hatchley, and a good four or five inches shorter. But rank, he reflected, did have its privileges.
‘Don’t sulk, Sergeant,’ he said as they walked over to the car to pick up their overnight bags. ‘My room might be bigger, but it’s probably right next to the plumbing. What did you think of Mrs Greenock?’
‘Not bad if you like those wand-like figures,’ Hatchley said. ‘Prefer ’em with a bit of meat on their bones, myself.’
‘I wasn’t asking you to rate her out of ten on looks. What about her attitude?’