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“Not since I went to London, when I was eighteen. We just sort of lost touch.”
“I know what you mean. It happens. I don’t know anyone I went to school with anymore.”
Banks considered telling A
Chapter 14
Early in the afternoon, A
She walked along York Road enjoying the sunshine, glancing in the shop windows as she walked. A stylish red leather jacket caught her eye in one of the more exclusive clothes shops, but she knew it would be way out of her price range. Even so, she went in and inquired. It was.
The market square was clogged with wandering tourists and cars trying to find a parking space. A large group of Japanese, along with their tour guide and translator, stood gazing up at the front of the Norman church, where several sculpted figures of saints were carved in a row high over the doors. Some of the tourists were catching the moment on videotape, though A
One of the cars, she noticed – partly because it screeched straight into a handicapped parking space and almost hit a young woman – was Martin Armitage’s BMW. What the hell was he doing here? And what the hell was he doing in a handicapped parking spot? Maybe she should arrange for him to get towed? But when she saw him jump out of the car, slam the door and head for the shops built into the side of the church, she knew what was going on.
A
“Mr. Armitage!” A
Armitage shook her off as if she were a troublesome insect. “This pervert killed my son,” he said. “If you lot can’t do it, I’ll get a bloody confession, even if I have to shake it out of him.” As if to prove his point, he started to shake Wells again and slap him back and forth across the face. Blood and saliva dribbled from Wells’s slack jaw.
A
Gathering all her strength, A
Armitage was still shaking Wells and A
Two burly PCs followed her back to the shop, and it took both of them to subdue Armitage, wrecking most of the place in the process. There were old books all over the floor, broken tables and clouds of dust in the air by the time they got the handcuffs on him and marched him outside up the stairs. Wells was bleeding, clutching his chest and looking distinctly unwell. A
It had been a while since Banks had spent much time in his office, and the Dalesman calendar was still open at July’s photo of Skidby Windmill on the edge of the Yorkshire Wolds. He had the radio tuned in to Radio Three and was listening to an orchestral concert of music by Holst, Haydn and Vaughan Williams as he whittled away at the pile of paperwork on his desk. He had just settled into the lento moderato of Vaughan Williams’s Pastoral Symphony and yet another memo on cost effectiveness, when his phone rang.
“Alan, it’s Stefan.”
“Good news, I hope?”
“Depends on how you look at it. Your man Norman Wells is clean, as far as we can tell. We were pretty thorough, and I’m sure if there’d been any traces of Luke Armitage in his car or house we’d have found something.”
“You didn’t?”
“Nada.”
“Okay, well, I suppose that shows us where not to concentrate our attention. Anything positive?”
“The blood on the drystone wall.”
“I remember.”
“There was enough for DNA analysis. It’s definitely human, and it doesn’t match the victim’s.”
Banks whistled. “So there’s a good chance it could belong to whoever dropped Luke over the wall?”
“A pretty good chance, yes. But don’t get your hopes up too high. It could belong to anyone.”
“But you’ll be able to match it with any samples we can get?”
“Of course.”
“Okay. Thanks, Stefan.”
“My pleasure.”
Banks wondered whom he should ask to provide DNA samples. Norman Wells, of course, even though the forensic search of his house had turned up nothing incriminating. Alastair Ford, perhaps, just because he lived in a remote cottage and was co
Then there was the mystery girl, of course. They would definitely need a sample from her if they ever found her, if she existed.
No sooner had the moderato pesante begun than his phone rang again. This time it was the duty constable. Someone to see him in co
“Send her up,” said Banks, wondering if this could be the mystery woman. She must know that she was wanted by now, and if she did, then her failure to show up was suspicious in itself.