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That would be Roy Banks. “Yes, we know about him,” A
The doctor spread her hands on the table, palms up. “Then I can’t help you,” she said.
“What about her previous boyfriend, Victor Parsons? Have you ever met him?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Apparently he’s turned up at the center and created a fuss once or twice.”
“I’m very isolated up here,” Dr. Lukas said. “I probably wouldn’t have noticed.”
“When Je
“When would this be?”
“About two months ago. April.”
Dr. Lukas turned to the laptop on her desk and pressed a few keys. “Cori
“I assume that’s the one,” A
“It’s the only Cori
“Then it must be her.”
“Then yes, I did,” said Dr. Lukas. “But I had no idea whether she was this man’s daughter or not. I never met him and she never said anything about him. It was just a straightforward consultation.”
“What happened to her?”
“She had her termination, and I assume she got on with her life.”
“Have you ever heard of Carmen Petri?”
“No,” said Dr. Lukas, just a little too quickly for A
“Do you know what ‘late girls’ are?”
“Girls who are late with their periods? Girls who are dead? I have no idea.”
A
“What about girls who are pregnant and too late to have an abortion?”
“Then there would be no abortion. For one thing, it’s illegal, and for another, it’s dangerous.”
“Except if the mother or the fetus is in danger?”
“Exactly. In that case surgery may be performed. But it is not, strictly speaking, an abortion; it is a surgical procedure performed in order to save a life, or lives. Emergency surgery.”
“Yes, I understand the distinction,” said A
“Not to my knowledge.”
“And you, as medical director, should know?”
“Well, you could check with the individual clinics where the terminations are actually carried out, but I very much doubt it. We’re essentially a family-pla
“I see,” said A
DC Kev Templeton soon got fed up sitting around talking on the telephone. He was a man of action; he liked to rattle a few doors and feel a few collars. Now it was Monday and the world was on the move again, he was in his element. With Gristhorpe’s approval, he had set up a meeting with a DS Susan Browne, who was still working the Claire Potter case. They had agreed on a late lunch at a pub just off the M1 about halfway between Eastvale and Derby, and Templeton pulled into the car park at half past two thinking if this Susan Browne was a bit of all right he might even get his leg over before the day was done.
He walked through the dim, cavernous bar, where a few regulars sat quietly smoking and watching cricket on the TV, and went out of the back door into the garden. Templeton didn’t know if he looked like a detective or not in his jeans, T-shirt and trainers, Ray-Bans covering his eyes.
He sca
“Let’s get the ordering out of the way first, shall we?” she said, sliding the menu over to him. “I’ve already decided.”
Templeton sca
He ordered at the bar, bought himself a Coke and went back to the garden. Their table was in the shade of a large copper beech, and a light breeze came and went, ruffling Susan’s tight blond curls and susurrating through the leaves. At the other end of the garden a few children played on the swings and roundabout while their parents sat at nearby tables enjoying the sunshine. Templeton put his Ray-Bans on the table and gave DS Browne the full benefit of his heart-melting brown eyes.
“You’re from Western Area Headquarters, then?” she asked.
“Yeah,” said Templeton.
“Eastvale?”
“You know it?”
“Used to work there. How’s DCI Banks? Still around, I suppose?”
Templeton gri
“As I remember, he got results, and he was a pretty good boss.”
“Yeah, well… When were you there?”
“A few years back. I left just after I passed my sergeant’s boards. Did a year in uniform in Avon and Somerset, then transferred to CID in Derbyshire. How is Alan Banks doing? I heard about the fire. Sent him a card and all.”
“All right, I suppose,” said Templeton, realizing he had to be a bit more circumspect about what he said now that Susan Browne had shown her true colors. “Actually, he’s probably not doing so well right at the moment. They just pulled his brother’s body out of the Thames last night.”
“Jesus,” said Susan. “That’s terrible. Look, give him my condolences when you see him, will you?”
“Sure.”
“What happened?”
“Looks as if he was killed. Shot. Did you know him?”
“No. But that’s still terrible news. Poor Alan. Do tell him I’m sorry. My name was Susan Gay back then. He’ll remember. Browne’s my married name.”
There was something in her tone that stopped Templeton from making the obvious comment. Imagine going through life with a name like Gay, he thought. No wonder she changed it when she got married.
“And give my regards to Superintendent Gristhorpe and Jim Hatchley, if they’re still around.”
“Oh, they’re still around.”
“Right.” Susan waved a wasp away from the rim of her glass. “Down to business, then.”
“Claire Potter,” said Templeton. “Like anyone for it?”
“We’ve got no suspects at all. Except…”
“Yes?”
“Well, can you imagine how many times he must have done practice runs, how many times he must have followed someone, only for her to get home before he could strike? For something like this to work out you need so many things to go right. A woman turning off on to a dark country road late at night, nobody around, an unlocked driver’s door. Anyway, we checked around and it seems that a couple of months earlier, the twentieth of February, to be exact, a woman turning off the M1 north of Sheffield was attacked in a similar way, only she had her doors locked. Paula Chandler.”