Katie nodded wearily. Pale, slumped in the chair, she looked used and abused like a discarded mistress.
‘Anne Ralston?’ Gristhorpe repeated in disbelief. ‘After all these years?’
He and Banks knelt beside the pile of stones. Usually when they worked on the wall together they hardly spoke, but today there was pressing police business to deal with. Sandra had taken Brian and Tracy down into Lyndgarth after lunch to see a local craft exhibition, so they were alone with the twittering larks and the cheeky wagtails on the valley side above the village.
‘You can see how it changes things,’ Banks said.
‘I can indeed — if it had anything to do with Bernard Allen’s murder.’
‘It must have.’
‘We don’t even know that Anne Ralston’s disappearance was connected with Addison’s killing, for a start.’
‘It’s too much of a coincidence, surely?’ Banks said. ‘A private detective is killed and a local woman disappears on practically the same day. If it happened in London, or even in Eastvale, I’d be inclined to think there was no link, but in a small village like Swainshead…?’
‘Aye,’ said Gristhorpe. ‘Put like that… But we need a lot more to go on. No, not that one; it’s too flat.’ Gristhorpe brushed aside the stone Banks had picked up.
‘Sorry.’ Banks searched the pile for something better. ‘I’m working on the assumption that Anne Ralston knew something about Addison’s murder, right?’
‘Right. I’ll go along with that just for the sake of argument.’
‘If she did know something and disappeared without telling us, it means one of two things: either she was paid off, or she was scared for her own life.’
Gristhorpe nodded. ‘Or she might have been protecting someone,’ he added.
‘But then there’d be no need to run.’
‘Maybe she didn’t trust herself to bear up under pressure. Who knows? Go on.’
‘For five years nobody hears any more of her, then suddenly Bernard Allen turns up and tells Katie Greenock he’s been seeing the Ralston woman in Toronto. The next thing we know, Allen’s dead before he can get back there. Now, Katie said that Bernard had been told not to spread it around about him knowing Anne. Was she protecting him, or herself? Or both? We don’t know. What we do know, though, is that she didn’t want her whereabouts known. Allen tells Katie, anyway, and she tells her husband. I think we can safely assume that Sam Greenock told everyone else. Allen must have become a threat to someone because he’d met up with Anne Ralston, who might have known something about Addison’s murder. Stephen Collier was closely associated with her so he looks like a good suspect, but there’s no reason to concentrate on him alone. It could have been any of them — Fletcher, Nicholas, Sam Greenock, even Katie — they were all in Swainshead at the time both Addison and Allen were killed, and we’ve no idea what or who that private detective was after five years ago.’
‘What about opportunity?’
‘Same thing. Everybody knew the route Allen was taking out of Swainshead. He’d talked all about it in the White Rose the night before. And most of them also knew how attached he was to that valley. The killer could easily have hidden among the trees up there and watched for him.’
‘All right,’ Gristhorpe said, placing a through-stone. ‘But what about their alibis?’
‘We’ve only got Fletcher’s word that he was at home. He could have got to the valley from the north without anyone knowing. He lives alone on the fell side and there are no other houses nearby. As for the Colliers, Stephen says he was at the office and Nicholas was at school. We haven’t checked yet, but if Nicholas wasn’t actually teaching a class and Stephen wasn’t in a meeting, either of them could have slipped out for a while, or turned up later. It would have been easy for Nicholas, again approaching from the north, and Stephen could have got up from half a mile past Rawley Force. It’s not much of a climb, and there’s plenty of cover to hide the car off the Helmthorpe road. I had a look on my way over here.’
‘The Greenocks?’
‘Sam could have got there from the road too. He went to Eastvale for supplies, but the shopkeepers can’t say exactly what time he got there. Carter’s doesn’t open till nine, anyway, and the chap in the newsagent’s says Sam usually drops in at about eleven. That gives him plenty of time. He might have had another motive, too.’
Gristhorpe raised his bushy eyebrows.
‘The woman denies it, but I got a strong impression that something went on between Katie Greenock and Bernard Allen.’
‘And you think if Sam got wind of it…?’
‘Yes.’
‘What about Mrs Greenock?’
‘She says she was at home cleaning, but all the guests would have gone out by then. Nobody could confirm that she stayed in.’
‘Have you checked the Colliers’ stories?’
‘Sergeant Hatchley’s doing it tomorrow morning. There’s no one at the factory on a Sunday.’
‘Well, maybe we’ll be a bit clearer when we get all that sorted out.’
‘I’m going back to Swainshead for another night. I’ll want to talk to Stephen Collier again, for one.’
Gristhorpe nodded. ‘Take it easy though, Alan. I’ve already had an earful from the DCC about your last visit.’
‘He didn’t waste any time, did he? Anyway, I could do with a bit of information on the Addison case and the Ralston woman’s disappearance. How did the alibis check out?’
Gristhorpe put down the stone he was weighing in his hand and frowned. Banks lit a cigarette — at least smoking was allowed in the open, if not in the house. He looked at the sky and noticed it had clouded over very quickly. He could sniff rain in the air.
‘Everyone said they were at home. We couldn’t prove otherwise. It was a cold dark February evening. We pushed Stephen Collier as hard as we dared, but he had a perfect alibi for the day of the girl’s disappearance: he was in Carlisle at a business meeting.’
‘Was Walter Collier around in those days?’
‘No. He was dead by then.’
‘What was he like?’
‘He was quite an impressive man. Complex. He had a lot of power and influence in the dale, some of which has carried over to the sons, as you’ve already found out. Now, you know how I feel about privilege and such, but you had to respect Walter; he never really abused his position. He was proud, especially of the family and its achievements, but he managed to be kind and considerate without being condescending. He was also a regular churchgoer, a religious man, but he liked the ladies and he could drink most villagers under the table. Don’t ask me how he managed to square that with himself. It’s rare for a Dales farmer, especially one from a family as long-established as the Colliers, to sell up. But Walter was a man of vision. He saw what things were coming to, so he shifted his interests to food processing and encouraged his sons to get good educations rather than strong muscles.’
‘What was he like as a father?’
‘I’d imagine he was a bit of a tyrant,’ Gristhorpe answered, ‘though I can’t say for certain. Used to being obeyed, getting his own way. They probably felt the back of his hand more than once.’
Banks held out his palm and felt the first, hesitant drops of rain. ‘When Anne Ralston disappeared,’ he asked, ‘were there no signs at all of what might have happened to her?’
‘Nothing. There were a few clothes missing, that’s all.’
‘What about money, bank accounts?’
‘She didn’t have one. She got a wage packet every two weeks from Collier Foods. What she did with the cash, I’ve no idea. Maybe she hid it under the mattress.’