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“No,” said A
“I can talk to Red Ron about manpower.”
“Thanks,” said A
“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,” A
“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.”
A
“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 A
“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 A
“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, A
A
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 A
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? A
But the suspicion and anxiety persisted throughout the day and made it hard for her to concentrate. Late in the afternoon, by which time A
“A
“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 A
“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.”
“There were none. So no help there.”
“Would there have been if the painting were genuine?”
“Not necessarily.”
“Okay, Phil. Thanks,” said A
“Not at all. We’ve got some provenance there, and the same tests didn’t turn out negative. I think that one was a genuine find. It must have given someone the idea of forging the other missing piece.”
“McMahon?”
“I’ve no idea who did it, but if you found it at the site of the caravan fire, and you’ve managed to link the two victims, yes, I’d say you’re probably on the right track. They must have hatched some harebrained get-rich-quick scheme. It’s quite possible to be a fine artist and pretty useless at almost everything else.”
“Tell me about it,” said A
“Anyway, that’s all I’ve got to say, for better or worse. I’ll get them packed and have them couriered back up to you. They’re worthless, but I suppose you might still need them as evidence?”
“Thanks,” said A
“How are things up there?”
“Fine, I suppose.”
“Closing in for the kill?”
“Maybe,” A
“As in been killed?”
“No. As in legged it.”
“Oh, I see. Best of luck then.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s wrong? You sound a bit glum.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I had a bit of a barney with Alan, DCI Banks, this morning. It’s left rather a bad taste in my mouth.”
“What about?”
“Nothing. That’s it. Just me being oversensitive. I wish the two of you could get on better.”
“Why, what’s he said about me?”
“Nothing. It’s just… I don’t know, Phil. It’s me. Don’t pay any attention.”
“Did he say anything about me?”
“No. He just asked about you, that’s all. See what I mean about being oversensitive?”
“I shouldn’t worry about it, then,” said Phil. “I’ve got nothing against him. I’ve only met the man the once, and you were there.”
“Like I said, Phil, it’s just me. Where are you? Will you be up tonight?”
“Afraid not. I’m still down in London. I’ll try to make it tomorrow or the next day, all right?”
“Okay. See you later, then.”
“See you.”
A
But before she could even pick up her pen, DC Templeton dashed into the squad room. “We’ve got him,” he said. “We’ve got Whitaker. He’s downstairs.”
“Well, Leslie,” said Banks. “It’s quite a merry dance you’ve led us, isn’t it?”