Strange Affair

“Maybe it was Roy who rang Je

“And gave her directions to my cottage and told her to set off right there and then because he couldn’t come himself? Maybe it was. But why? What happened between half past nine and a quarter to eleven?”

“That we don’t know.” A

“So what got her killed?”

“I wish I knew.” A

“Carry on my own personal covert operation,” said Banks

A

“Nothing. You?”

“I’ll talk to Dave Brooke as soon as I can and I’m pretty sure he’ll want to see you. I mean it, Alan. Our cases have crossed and I’m not leaving any loose ends. Besides, given what happened to Je

“I haven’t thought about much else,” said Banks. “Mostly I’ve been thinking that he’s done a ru

“I’m glad you see it that way. If you’d bothered to keep in touch, we might have got to this point ages ago.”

“How was I to know you were looking for me?”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, I’ve still got a couple of things to do tomorrow. Je

“So what do you have to do?”

“Visit Je

“What’s it called?” Banks asked.

“The Berger-Le

Banks opened the folder again and started turning over sheets of paper, some of them covered with his own spidery scrawl. Finally he pointed to a printed sheet. “I thought I remembered the name,” he said. “It’s one of the centers Roy invested in. One of Julian Harwood’s companies. Are you sure that’s where Je

“Yes.”

“Perhaps that’s where they met, then. Harwood told me that Roy’s a hands-on sort of investor, likes to check out his assets. And if Je

“Which she was,” said A

“Bingo.”

“It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“Maybe not,” said Banks. “But it’s another co

A

“But what if there’s a co

“Look, Alan, you’ve got no official standing there, either. I’m not taking you with me and that’s that.”

“Fine,” said Banks. “Okay. I understand.”

“Don’t sulk. It doesn’t suit you.” A

It was early evening and Banks was sitting in Roy’s office reading through the files of correspondence Cori

“Hello,” he said, reaching his hand out tentatively. “Hunt’s the name. Ian Hunt. Roy home?”

Banks shook his hand. It felt damp and cool. “No,” he said. “I’m his brother, Alan. What’s it about?”

“He’s mentioned you,” said Hunt. “The policeman. But I didn’t think… Never mind.”

Banks had a good idea what Ian Hunt didn’t think, but he kept quiet. He needed all the information he could get, and a defensive attitude from the outset wouldn’t help matters much. He wondered what the hell the vicar was doing calling around at Roy’s house. “Would you like to come in?”

“Yes. Yes, please, if it’s all right.”

Banks propped the golf club by the front door and led the way to the kitchen at the back, where he had recently sat with A

“No real reason,” Hunt said. “Only he didn’t turn up at church this morning, and that’s not like him.”

Banks nearly fell off his chair. “Church?” Wonders never cease.

“Yes. Why? What’s so strange about that?”

“Nothing,” said Banks, who hadn’t set foot inside a church since his childhood, except for weddings and funerals. He and Roy hadn’t been given a particularly religious upbringing, and neither of their parents had been regular churchgoers. At school, back in those days, there were prayers and a hymn every morning, of course, but apart from a few years of Sunday school and a brief stint in the Lifeboys and Boys’ Brigade, that had been it as far as Banks was concerned. Now this.

“Normally, I wouldn’t bother dropping by,” said Hunt, “but there was a meeting of the restoration fund committee after the service and Roy has always been a keen contributor. Not only financially, you understand, but also in terms of ideas. Very creative mind, Roy.”

“Cup of tea, Vicar?”

“Please. And call me Ian. Unless you want me to call you Chief Inspector?”

“Ian it is.” Banks put the kettle on. Tea with the vicar on a Sunday afternoon, he thought. How very genteel. This wasn’t a world he would ever have suspected Roy of inhabiting. He found the tea bags next to the coffee and put two in the flower-patterned teapot.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” said Banks as the kettle was coming to a boil, “when did Roy start going to church?”

“I don’t mind at all,” said Hunt. “He started attending services on the sixteenth of September, 2001.”

“I didn’t expect you to remember the exact date,” Banks said.

“But how could I forget? You’d be surprised how many people returned to the church, or first started attending, around that time.”

Banks had to think for a moment before he realized the significance of the date. It must have been the first Sunday after the attack on the World Trade Center. But why should that affect Roy so much? He poured boiling water into the pot. “What drew him there?” he asked.

Hunt paused. “You really don’t know much about your brother, do you?”