Strange Affair

“Well, he’d just come back in, oh, not more than ten or fifteen minutes earlier, about quarter past nine. I saw his car, watched him park it in the garage. I must say, he seemed in a bit of a hurry.”

The phone call to Banks had been timed at 9:29 P.M., which meant that Roy had rung him a short while after he had arrived home. Where had he been? What was it he couldn’t talk about over the telephone? While he was on the phone, someone had come to his door, and a few minutes later Roy had gone out again, most likely with the man who had rung his doorbell. Where had they gone?

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Farrow,” said Banks. “I won’t trouble you any longer.”

“No trouble. You will let me know, won’t you, if you hear anything?”

“Of course,” said Banks.

“And why shouldn’t I be all right with it? A

A

There was a time, she remembered, when Banks had just come out of the hospital, that there was so much she wanted to say to him, to explain, to apologize for being such a fool, but he wouldn’t let her get close, so she gave up. In the end, they simply carried on working together as if nothing of any consequence had happened between them.

But something had happened. Phil Keane, A

Officially, it wasn’t A

In some ways what had happened to her was worse than the rape she had endured over three years ago. This was total emotional rape, and it stained her soul. Because she had loved Phil Keane, though she loathed to admit it to herself. Now the very thought of him ru

Well, she knew now that beneath the charm was an immeasurable and impenetrable darkness – the lack of conscience of a psychopath fused with the motivating greed of a common thief. And a love of the game, an enjoyment of deceit and causing humiliation for their own sakes. But was his charm merely on the surface? The more A

Such speculations shouldn’t be allowed on a fine day like this, A

A young boy in short trousers, shirt hanging out, sat on the bank of Gratly Beck fishing. He’d be lucky to catch anything in such fast-flowing water, A

After checking out both Bank’s flat and his cottage, she would have to hurry to Darlington to catch a train to London. The three twenty-five would get her into King’s Cross just after six, all being well. It would be quicker than driving, and she didn’t fancy negotiating her way through the central London traffic all the way south of the river to Ke

A

Though she knew it was futile, A

“It’s no use,” she said. “He’s out.”

“When did he leave?” A

“Who wants to know?”

A

The woman looked at her card, but she obviously wasn’t impressed. “Well, he’s out,” she said again.

“When did he leave?” A

“About eight o’clock this morning. Just drove off.”

“Did he say where he was going?”

“Not to me. And I wouldn’t expect him to.”

“Do you own these flats?”

“Me and my husband. We live in this one and rent out the others. Why?”

“I was wondering if I might have a look around. I assume you have a spare key?”

“You can’t do that. It’s private.” The baby stirred, made a few tentative burps. She rubbed its back and it fell silent again.

“Look,” said A

“Search warrant? Can you do that?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Oh, all right, I suppose,” she said. “It’s no skin off my nose, is it? Just a minute.”

She went inside and returned with two keys, which she handed to A

“Of course,” said A

She felt the woman’s eyes boring into her back as she opened the door to the upper level and walked up the staircase to the upper flat. At the top, she opened Banks’s door and found herself in a small hallway with pegs for jackets and raincoats and a small cupboard for shoes and heavier clothing. A pile of junk mail sat on a table under a gilt-edged mirror.

The first door she opened led to the bedroom. A