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“But you don’t know that it was the same man.”
“Doesn’t matter. I still took the guilt on myself. I’d been attacked by an older man, possibly a pervert, and I didn’t report it. Then a boy was abducted, possibly by a pervert. Of course I blamed myself. And I certainly couldn’t say anything about it later.”
A
Banks smiled. “You’re right. I try not to let it get me down too much. It’s only when something like this happens, something I think I could have prevented.”
A
Banks flicked his cigarette in the river and followed her. A
They turned left at the main road by the pre-Roman site, a sort of barrow where ancient graves had been discovered, and then left again, back toward the station, toward whatever other horrors Ruth Walker had in store for them.
Banks started the tape recorders again. “All right, Ruth,” he said, “you’ve had some food and rest. Ready to talk to us again?”
Ruth nodded and retracted her hands deep into the sleeves of her sweatshirt.
“For the record,” Banks said, “Ms. Walker nodded to indicate that she is ready to resume the interview.”
Ruth stared down at her lap.
“Before the break, Ruth, you told us that Barry Clough is your father. I’m sure you know that gives rise to a lot more questions.”
“Go ahead.”
“First of all, is it true?”
“Of course it is. Why should I lie about it?”
“You’ve lied before. Remember, right at the begi
“This is true. He’s my father. You can check.”
“How did you find out about this if it wasn’t on the birth certificate?”
“I talked to Ros’s parents.”
“And they told you, just like that?”
“It wasn’t as easy as that.”
“How easy was it, then?”
“It was a matter of finding out what name he was using now.”
“What do you mean?”
“All they could tell me was that Ros got herself made pregnant by some punk. He hung around with bands, worked as a roadie, played bass a bit, something like that. Ros had told them his name, but he was long gone by the time she even found out she was pregnant. He was in America, they told me. And she didn’t want anything to do with him anyway. Neither did her parents. Everybody just did their best to forget him, and it seems as if that was pretty easy.”
“What was his name?”
Ruth laughed. “You know what they were like back then, all using silly names, thinking they sounded tough? Rat Scabies. Sid Vicious. Joh
“I remember,” said Banks.
“Well, this bloke was going by the name of Mal Licious. I ask you. Mal Licious.”
What an apt name for Barry Clough, Banks thought. “So nobody knew his real name?”
“Ros’s parents and uncle and aunt didn’t.”
“Did you ask Rosalind herself?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She didn’t know, either. Mal Licious was all he went by. She just called him Mal. Seems she hadn’t known him that well. I think it was a one-night stand. She didn’t really want to talk about it.”
“How did you find out, then?”
Ruth shifted in her chair. “Easy. Information technology. I know a bit about the music scene, I’ve been to a lot of clubs and raves and stuff, and Craig had a few contacts, he’d taken band photos, that sort of thing. I asked around. It seemed a logical way to start. There was always a chance that this Mal Licious was still on the scene somewhere. A lot of these people never grow up. Look at Rod Stewart, for Christ’s sake. Clough was a pretty well-known name on the scene, partly because of his trendy bar and partly because of the bands he promoted. There were still people around who’d known him way back, and someone told me he used to be called Mal Licious. Thought it was a bit of a laugh. Well, there can’t have been two of them, can there? Stands to reason.”
Indeed it did, thought Banks. Bright girl. Or woman. A lot of things were starting to make sense now. “So none of what happened since Emily went to London was coincidence, then?” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Emily shacking up with Barry Clough, Clough finding out about Riddle, the article in the newspaper linking them together.”
A look of triumph filled Ruth’s eyes. “No,” she said. “None of it was coincidence. It was all me. I set things in motion. Beyond that, they took on a life of their own. I soon found out that Clough liked young girls, and it wasn’t hard to get an invitation to one of his parties. What happened next was up to nature, not me. It really pissed off Craig.”
“Did you ever approach Clough? He’s a wealthy man. Wealthier than Rosalind, I should imagine.”
Ruth frowned at him. “It’s not all about money, you know. No, I didn’t approach him. What was he going to say? Probably didn’t even remember Ros’s name, let alone that he’d shagged her. They were probably stoned out of their minds.”
“Did you tell Rosalind about Emily and Clough?”
“No.”
“Why on earth not? He was her…” Banks had to pause and think for a moment. No matter how terrible it seemed for Rosalind’s daughter to be sleeping with a man her mother had slept with, and whose child she had given birth to, Emily wasn’t any relation to Clough whatsoever. “Emily was your half-sister,” was all he could manage.
Ruth smiled. “Information management. Knowledge is power, as I’m sure you know. If you use it only a little at a time, it can go a long way. I might have had a use for that information eventually. But I was enjoying myself plenty with what I already had. I think if I’d told Ros about them, everything would have come tumbling down, and it wasn’t time for that yet.”
You’re damn right the whole house of cards would have come tumbling down, Banks thought. Before he could respond, A
Ruth faced her for a moment before her eyes went off in another direction. “Why shouldn’t I enjoy myself? I’ve had little enough fun in my life. Why not have a bit for a change?”
“Fun?” repeated A
“I didn’t mean to kill her.”
A
“I’ve told you before,” Ruth shouted directly into the microphone. “I don’t want any fucking solicitor. Is that clear enough for you?”
“It’ll do,” said Banks. “Let me get this straight, then. You discovered that Barry Clough was your father and you didn’t tell either him or Rosalind this. Am I right?”
“Yes.”
“Did you tell Emily?”
“Of course not.”
“But you introduced them at a party.”
“That was all I needed to do.” Ruth’s eyes shone. “That was the beauty of it, you see. I knew Clough liked young girls, and you didn’t have to talk to Emily for long before you found out what a twisted little Electra complex she had. She wanted to fuck her daddy. Well, I couldn’t arrange that, but at least I could give her a chance to fuck mine. It was perfect.”
“Why?”
“Because I was the only one who knew the truth. The joke was on them, on someone else, for a change, not on me.”