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“On Friday?”
“Yes. In the club.”
“And?”
“I told him I’d lost touch. Which is true. The world has changed, Mr. Banks, in case you haven’t noticed. And I warned him off.”
“How did he respond?”
Lambert clapped a hand on Banks’s shoulder as they stood near the door. “You know Roy,” he said. “Or maybe you don’t. Anyway, once he’s on the trail of something, he’s not easily deterred. He persisted, got a bit pissed off with me, as a matter of fact, thought I was holding out on him, depriving him of a business opportunity.”
“So you ended the evening on a sour note?”
“He’d have got over it.”
“If he hadn’t been killed?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you fall out with Julian Harwood, by the way?”
Lambert looked surprised. “You know about that?”
“Yes.”
“It was years ago. Storm in a teacup. Harwood insisted I’d cheated him out of some money in a land sale, that I knew the new motorway was going to run right by it.”
“And did you?”
Lambert did his best to look i
“Of course not,” Banks echoed. “Is there anything more you can tell me?”
“I’m afraid not. Except…”
“What?”
Lambert stood by the door and scratched his temple. “Don’t take this amiss,” he said. “Just a piece of friendly advice. Roy’s dead. I can’t change that. I don’t know anything about it, and I certainly don’t know who did it, but don’t you think you should think twice, take heed of what you’re getting into, and perhaps be a bit more careful lest you disturb a nest of vipers?”
“Is that a warning, Mr. Lambert?”
“Take it as you will.” Lambert looked at his watch. “Now I’m afraid I really must head for the office. I’ve got business to take care of.”
A
They were all waiting in the boardroom: Gristhorpe, Hatchley, Winsome, Rickerd, Templeton and Stefan Nowak, crime scene coordinator. The long table was so highly polished you could see your reflection in it, and a whiteboard hung on the wall at one end of the room, surrounded by corkboards where Stefan had pi
After A
Stefan stood by the boards and the photographs and cleared his throat. Not for the first time A
“First of all,” said Stefan, “we have fingerprints from DCI Banks’s door that don’t match the builders’, we have tire tracks from his drive and…” Here he paused dramatically and lifted up a plastic bag. “We also have a cigarette end found near the beck on DCI Banks’s property, fortunately before the rain came. From this we have been able to get the saliva necessary for DNA.”
“What about the tire tracks?” A
“They’re Michelins, of a type consistent with tires often used on a Mondeo,” said Stefan. “I’ve sent the necessary information to Essex for comparison with what’s left of the Mondeo that crashed outside Basildon. I’m still awaiting results.”
“So,” Gristhorpe said, “you’ve got prints, tire tracks and DNA from DCI Banks’s cottage, and if and when we find a suspect, these will tie him to the murder of Je
“Well,” said Stefan, “they’ll tie him to DCI Banks’s cottage.”
“Exactly,” said Gristhorpe. “And no crime was committed there.”
“That’s not strictly true, sir,” said A
Gristhorpe gave her a withering look and shook his head. “Not enough. Is there anything else?”
“We’ve got Je
“What about the last call?” A
“Yes, I was coming to that,” said Winsome. “Je
“Thanks for trying,” said A
Gristhorpe looked at his watch. “I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ve got ACC McLaughlin and the press breathing down my neck. I appreciate your progress so far, but it’s not enough. We need results, and we need them fast. A
When Gristhorpe left the room, everyone breathed a sigh of relief.
“He’s in a bit of a grumpy mood this morning, isn’t he?” said Stefan to A
“I think he’s had the chief constable as well as ACC McLaughlin on his case,” said A
Stefan smiled. “Ouch,” he said.
“Ma’am, can I have a word?”
It was DC Templeton. “Of course, Kev,” said A
Templeton pulled a face. “With all due respect, ma’am…”
“I know,” said A
They threaded their way through the crowd of tourists on Market Street and were lucky to find a free table. The sole waitress was rushed off her feet but she managed to bring them each a cup of coffee quickly enough. “What is it, Kev?” A
“It’s this Roger Cropley business,” Templeton said. “I haven’t bothered you with it much so far because, well, you’ve been down south and you’ve had lots of other things on your plate. I mean, it might be a bit tangential, but I really think we’re on to something here.”
“What?”
“The Claire Potter murder.”
“I don’t know,” said A
“That’s what I thought at first,” said Templeton, warming to the subject, “but if you really think about it, if Cropley has been preying on young women alone on the motorway on Friday nights, then the only coincidence is that he was at the Watford Gap services at the same time as Je
“I see your point,” said A
“Okay, but strange things happen sometimes. It still doesn’t mean Cropley’s harmless.”
“You don’t need to tell me that, Kev,” said A
“There was another woman, too: Paula Chandler. Someone drove her off the road late on a Friday night in February and tried to open her car door, only it was locked and she managed to get away.”