Playing With Fire

“Leave those dishes for now,” Phil said, loosening his grip.

A

“I don’t have my toothbrush.”

A

“In that case…” Phil said. He let his arms fall by his side, then A

Chapter 9

A

“Anyway,” she said, “I talked to Roland Gardiner’s ex-employer and it seems as if Roland was playing a minor variation on the long firm fraud.”

“Was he, indeed?” A long firm fraud involves setting up a fraudulent company – easy enough to do these days with computer software – and acquiring goods or services without paying. A true long firm fraud takes a long time to get going – hence its name – and requires a bit of capital. You first have to pay your bills promptly to gain the trust of the companies you purchase from. “How did he manage that?” Banks asked. “I thought you told me his ex-wife said he never had a pe

“He didn’t. That was the beauty of it. He bought from himself.”

“What do you mean?”

“From the company he worked for. Office products. Good market. Easy to get rid of. Gave himself a nice line of credit and took it from there. He didn’t need to establish trust over a long period.”

“He can’t have made much,” Banks said.

“He didn’t. I think that’s what bothered his ex-wife, too. I get the impression that if he’d made a bit more money she wouldn’t have minded too much where he got it from.”

“What happened when his boss found out?”

“Offered the honorable way out. Pay back and resign. No police. Seems he was well liked enough around the office.”

“So where does this get us?” Banks asked, talking to himself as much as to A

“Well,” A

“Sounds logical,” said Banks. “But what? And what’s the link between them? How did they know one another?”

“I can’t answer those questions yet,” said A

“The third man?”

“Yes. Someone killed them.”

“Unless they fell out and Gardiner killed McMahon.”

“Still doesn’t explain who killed Gardiner.”

“His ex? Her new husband?”

“Possible,” said A

“But unlikely?”

“In my opinion. What about Leslie Whitaker?”

“He’s another possibility,” said Banks. “I’m not entirely convinced that he didn’t know exactly what McMahon was up to. I think we should have another crack at him, anyway. Let’s have him in, this time.”

“Good idea.” A

“Yes?”

“I was just wondering, before we do anything else, you know, if we should perhaps bring Phil in, let him have a look at it? After all, it is his line of expertise.”

“I think we’d be better going through correct cha

“That’s not like you,” A

“Don’t forget there’s Ken Blackstone,” said Banks. “He’s got a strong background in art forgery.”

“But he’s West Yorkshire,” A

“I gathered that,” said Banks.

A

“Nothing. Only that I think we should go through official cha

“Oh, for crying out loud, we use consultants all the bloody time. What about that psychologist? The redhead who fancies you?”

Banks felt himself flush, partly with anger and partly with embarrassment. “You mean Dr. Fuller? She’s a professional psychologist, a trained criminal profiler.”

“Whatever. Phil’s a trained art authenticator.”

“We don’t know what Phil is. You’ve hardly known him five minutes.”

“You know what your problem is?” A

“He can have you as much and as often as he wants, for all I care,” said Banks, “but I won’t compromise this investigation because of your private life.”

“Oh, pull the carrot out of your arse, Alan. Can you hear yourself? Do you have any idea what you sound like?”

Banks felt as if he’d taken a wrong turn and the brick wall was looming dead ahead. “Look…” he began, but A

“All I’m saying is let him have a look at the Turners, that’s all,” she said, softening her tone. “If you’re worried he’s going to run off with them, you can chain them to your wrist.”

“Don’t be absurd. I’m not worried about anything of the kind.”

“Then what is your objection? What can it possibly be?”

“He’s an unknown quantity.” Banks felt that his objections were inadequate, and he knew he was well on the defensive, partly because he also knew he was acting irrationally, out of jealousy, and he didn’t know how to get out of the situation without admitting it.

“I know him,” A

Banks thought for a moment. He knew he had to give in gracefully, knew that he’d brushed against dangerous ground indeed during their little exchange. Much as he didn’t like the idea of bringing A

“All right,” he said. “I’ll put it to Detective Superintendent Gristhorpe. I can’t be fairer than that.”

“You’ll put it to him? Are you sure you won’t put it to him the way you’ve just put it to me?”

“A

A

“Look, what’s all this about?” said Leslie Whitaker, clearly uncomfortable to find himself on the receiving end of a police interrogation. “You’ve kept me waiting over an hour. I’ve got a business to run.”

“Sorry about that, Mr. Whitaker,” said Banks, arranging his folders neatly on the desk in front of him. They were in interview room two, which was hardly any different from interview rooms one and three, except that it let in even less light from the high, grille-covered window. Banks had brought DS Hatchley in to assist. A