Close To Home (aka The Summer That Never Was)

“Look at that tan,” A

“I’m sure you’ll manage a week in Blackpool before summer’s over,” said Banks.

“Dancing to the Wurlitzer in the Tower Ballroom? Donkey rides on the beach in the rain? Candy floss on the prom and a kiss-me-quick hat? I can hardly wait.” She leaned over and patted his arm. “It is good to see you again, Alan.”

“You, too.”

“So come on, then. Tell. How was Greece?”

“Magnificent. Magical. Paradisiacal.”

“Then what the bloody hell are you doing back in Yorkshire? You were hardly forthcoming on the phone.”

“Years of practice.”

A

“Anyway,” she said, “you’re looking well. Less stressed. Even half a holiday seems to have had some effect.”

Banks considered for a moment and decided that he did feel much better than he had when he had left. “It helped put things in perspective,” he said. “And you?”

“Swimmingly. Thriving. The job’s going well. I’m getting back into yoga and meditation. And I’ve been doing some painting again.”

“I kept you away from all that?”

A

Banks was about to make a sarcastic reference to that something being him this time, but he bit his tongue. He wouldn’t have done that two weeks ago. The holiday really must have done him good. “Well,” he said, “I’m glad you’re happy. I mean it, A

A

“It is, in a way.” Banks lit a cigarette and went on to explain about the discovery of Graham Marshall’s bones.

A

“I don’t know,” Banks said. “Maybe nothing. If I were the local police, I wouldn’t want me sticking my nose in, but when I heard, I just felt… I don’t know. It was a big part of my adolescence, A

“Yes.”

“If it was him, then maybe I can help them find him, if he’s still alive. I can remember what he looked like. Odds are there could be a photo on file.”

“And if it wasn’t him? Is that it? Is this the guilt you talked about before?”

“Partly,” said Banks. “I should have spoken up. But it’s more than that. Even if it’s nothing to do with the man by the river, someone killed Graham and buried his body. Maybe I can remember something, maybe there was something I missed at the time, being just a kid myself. If I can cast my mind back… Another?”

A

“Don’t worry,” said Banks, catching her anxious glance as he went to the bar. “This’ll be my last for the evening.”

“So when are you going down there?” A

“First thing tomorrow morning.”

“And you’re going to do what, exactly? Present yourself at the local nick and offer to help them solve their case?”

“Something like that. I haven’t thought it out yet. It’ll hardly be high priority with the locals. Anyway, surely they’ll be interested in someone who was around at the time? They interviewed me back then, you know. I remember it clearly.”

“Well, you said yourself they won’t exactly welcome you with open arms, not if you go as a copper trying to tell them how to do their jobs.”

“I’ll practice humility.”

A

“It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“Anyway, it’s a pity you’re not sticking around. We might be able to use your help up here.”

“Oh? What’s on?”

“Missing kid.”

“Another?”

“This one disappeared a bit more recently than your friend Graham.”

“Boy or girl?”

“Does it matter?”

“You know it does, A

“A boy.”

“How old?”

“Fifteen.”

That was almost Graham’s age when he disappeared, Banks thought. “Then the odds are good he’ll turn up none the worse for wear,” he said, though Graham hadn’t.

“That’s what I told the parents.”

Banks sipped his beer. There were some compensations to being back in Yorkshire, he thought, looking around the quiet, cozy pub, hearing the rain patter on the windows, tasting the Black Sheep and watching A

“He’s an odd kid,” she said. “Bit of a loner. Writes poetry. Doesn’t like sports. His room is painted black.”

“What were the circumstances?”

A

“What?”

“He’s Luke Armitage.”

“Robin’s boy? Neil Byrd’s son?”

“Martin Armitage’s stepson. Do you know him?”

“Martin Armitage? Hardly. Saw him play once or twice, though. I must say I thought he was overrated. But I’ve got a couple of CDs by Neil Byrd. They did a compilation three or four years ago, and they’ve just brought out a collection of outtakes and live performances. He really was very good, you know. Did you meet the supermodel?”

“Robin? Yes.”

“Quite the looker, as I remember.”

“Still is,” said A

“What sort of thing?”

“Oh, you know… ski

Banks gri

“Oh, nothing. It’s just me. He’ll probably turn up safe and sound.”

“But you’re worried?”

“Just a teeny bit.”

“Kidnapping?”

“It crossed my mind, but there’s been no ransom demand yet. We searched the house, of course, just in case, but there was no sign he’d been back home.”

“We did talk to the Armitages about security when they first moved to Swainsdale Hall, you know,” Banks said. “They installed the usual burglar alarms and such, but beyond that they said they just wanted to live a normal life. Nothing much we could do.”

“I suppose not,” A

Banks frowned as he peered at the text. It looked familiar to him, too, but he couldn’t place it, either. Le Poëte se fait voyant par un long, immense et raiso