Authors: Peter Robinson
Penny looked at him carefully for a long time, then she said, ‘I don’t know if I can handle being in love.’
‘Try it,’ Barker said, leaning forward and stroking her hair. ‘You never know, you might like it.’
Penny looked away. Barker moved closer and took her in his arms. She tensed, but didn’t break the embrace.
Finally, she disengaged herself and looked at him seriously. ‘Don’t expect too much of me,’ she said. ‘I’m used to fending for myself and I like it.’
‘You and I,’ Jack said, ‘we’ve been living alone so long it’s frightening to think about change. So let’s just take it easy, slowly.’
A bell rang in the kitchen.
‘That’s telling me the curry’s ready.’ Penny got up.
Barker followed her into the kitchen and leaned in the narrow doorway as she stirred the pungent sauce. ‘Do you know,’ he said, ‘it took that bloody policeman, as you call him,
to make me realize that I was jealous of you and Harry. I wondered, why the hell should you give so much of yourself to him and so little to me?’
‘That’s not fair, Jack.’ Penny’s face darkened as she turned to him. ‘Don’t talk like that. You sound just like Banks.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Barker apologized. ‘I didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘Forget it.’
‘The past won’t go away, Penny,’ Barker said. ‘There’s a lot of things need explaining.’
‘Like what?’ Penny asked suspiciously, taking the pot off the ring.
‘You know more about it than I do.’
‘More about what?’
‘Everything that’s happened. Come on, Penny, don’t tell me you haven’t got any ideas. You know more about this business than you’re letting on.’
‘Why should you think that?’
‘I don’t really know,’ Barker answered. ‘It’s just that you’ve been awfully mysterious and touchy about it these past few days.’
Penny turned back to the curry in silence.
‘Well?’ Barker asked.
‘Well what?’
‘Do you?’
‘Do I what?’
‘Oh come on. You know what I mean. Do you know something I don’t?’
‘How do I know what you know?’
‘I don’t know anything. Do you?’
‘Of course not,’ Penny said, putting the curry into dishes. ‘It’s your imagination, Jack. You writers! Don’t you think if I knew something I’d tell
you?’
‘As a matter of fact, I don’t. Sally Lumb didn’t tell anyone either. Or she told the wrong person.’
‘And you think it was me?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’
‘Go on, you might as well say it,’ Penny shouted, brandishing the spoon like a club. ‘Just like Banks. Go on!’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Friday evening, when she disappeared.’
‘But we were in the Dog and Gun.’
‘Not all the time.’
‘So? You came home for a rest and I went for a walk. So what?’
‘You don’t know?’
‘Know what?’
‘Banks hasn’t been to pester you?’
‘About what?’
‘That’s when Sally was last seen. While we were away. Somebody saw her in High Street about nine o’clock.’
‘So Banks thinks . . . ?’
Penny shrugged. ‘He asked me. You?’
‘No. I’ve not seen him for a few days.’
‘You will. He’s getting very pushy.’
‘I suppose he must be desperate. Surely you don’t think I was implying you had anything to do with it?’
‘Well, weren’t you?’
‘I’d hardly declare my undying love to someone I thought was a murderess, would I?’
Penny smiled.
‘And what about you?’ he went on. ‘Do you believe me?’
‘About what?’
‘That I just went for a walk.’
‘Well, yes. Of course I do. I don’t even remember how all this started.’
‘I was simply asking you if you knew anything you hadn’t told me. That’s all.’
‘And I thought I’d answered that,’ Penny said, her dark eyes narrowing. ‘I’ve been no more mysterious about it than you have.’
‘Oh come off it, Penny. You can’t get out of it that easily. You’ve been around here much longer than I have. You’re bound to know more about what goes on than I
do.’
‘You seem to be treating me like a criminal, Jack. Is this your idea of love? If this is what it comes down to, just how bloody jealous were you?’
‘Forget it.’ Barker sighed. ‘Just forget I opened my mouth.’
‘I’d like to, Jack. I really would.’
They eyed each other warily, then Penny broke off to carry the bowls through to the dining table. She pushed one towards Barker, who sat down to eat.
‘You’ve put me in a right mood for a romantic candlelight dinner, you have,’ she complained. ‘I’m not even hungry now.’
‘Try some,’ Barker said, offering her a spoonful. ‘It’s very good.’
‘I’ve lost my appetite.’ Penny reached for a cigarette, then changed her mind and picked up her jacket. ‘I’m going out.’
‘But you can’t,’ Barker protested. ‘We’ve got a lot to talk about. What about the candles? You’ve made dinner.’
‘Eat it yourself,’ Penny told him, opening the door. ‘Eat the bloody candles too, for all I care.’
Barker half rose from the table. ‘But where are you going?’
‘To see a man about a dog,’ she said, and slammed the door behind her.
Though the sun still lingered low on the horizon, it was dark on Market Street in the shadow of the buildings on the western side, and the cobbled square was deserted. Banks
hadn’t even bothered to turn on his office light after returning to go over his notes. Sandra had gone home to assure Brian and Tracy that they weren’t becoming latchkey children. The
door was closed and the dark room was full of smoke. Occasionally he heard footsteps in the corridor outside, but nobody seemed to know he was there.
As was his habit when a case felt near to its end, he sat by the window smoking and rearranged the details in his mind four or five times. After about an hour things still looked the same. The
pattern, the picture, was complete, and however unbelievable it was, it had to be right. Eliminate the impossible and whatever is left, however improbable, must be the truth. Or so Sherlock Holmes
had said.
It was time for action.
Banks played no music as he drove towards the purplish-red sunset west along Swainsdale; his mind was far too active to take in anything more. Finally he swung up the hill to Gratly, turned
sharp left after the bridge and pulled up outside the Steadman house. There were no lights on. Banks cursed and walked down the path to Mrs Stanton’s.
‘Oh, hello Inspector,’ she greeted him. ‘I didn’t expect to see you again. Please come in.’
‘Thank you very much,’ Banks said, ‘but I don’t think I will. I’m a bit pushed for time. If you could just answer a couple of quick questions?’
Mrs Stanton frowned and nodded.
‘First of all, have you any idea where Mrs Steadman is?’
‘No, I haven’t. I think I heard her car about an hour or so ago, but I’ve no idea where she was going.’
‘Did you see her?’
‘No, I wasn’t looking. Even if I was it wouldn’t matter, though. They’ve got a door from the kitchen goes straight into the garage. Money,’ she said.
‘They’ve even got those automatic doors. Just press a button.’
‘Which direction did she drive off in?’
‘Well, she didn’t come past here.’
‘So she went east?’
‘Aye.’
‘Do you remember that Saturday you spent watching television with her?’ Mrs Stanton nodded slowly. ‘Do you know if she went out again after she got home?’
Mrs Stanton shook her head. ‘I certainly didn’t hear her, and I was up for more than an hour pottering around.’
‘Last Friday night, did she go out at all?’
‘Couldn’t tell you, Inspector. That was my bingo night.’
‘Your husband?’
‘Pub. As usual.’
‘This was a regular Friday night arrangement?’
‘Ha! For him it’s a reg’lar every night arrangement.’
‘And you?’
‘Aye, I go to bingo every Friday. So does half of Swainsdale.’
‘Mrs Steadman?’
‘Never. Not her. Not that she’s a snob, mind. What pleases some folks leaves others cold. Each to his own is what I say.’
‘Thank you very much, Mrs Stanton,’ Banks said, leaving her mystified as he got back into the Cortina and set off toward Helmthorpe.
He parked illegally in High Street by the church, right at the bottom of Penny’s street. There was a light on in her front room. Banks walked quickly up the path and knocked.
He was surprised when Jack Barker answered the door.
‘Come in, Chief Inspector,’ Barker said. ‘Penny’s not here, I’m afraid. Or have you come to ask me where I was on Friday evening?’
Banks ignored the taunt; he had no time for games. ‘Has she said anything odd lately about the Steadman business?’ he asked.
Puzzled, Barker shook his head. ‘No. Why?’
‘Because I got the impression she was holding something back. Something she might not have been sure about herself. I was hoping I could persuade her to tell me what it was.’
Barker lit a cigarette. ‘As a matter of fact,’ he said, ‘Penny has been a bit strange the few times I’ve seen her lately. Secretive and touchy. She hasn’t said
anything, though.’
Banks sat down and began tapping the frayed arm of the chair. ‘You two,’ he said, looking around the room. ‘Are you . . . er . . . ?’
‘Playing house? Not really. No such luck. I was here for dinner. We just had a bit of a row about the very thing you just mentioned, actually. She left and I’m waiting for her to
come back.’
‘Oh?’
‘I suggested she knew more than she was letting on, and she accused me of treating her like a criminal, just like you did.’
‘That’s what she thinks?’
‘Well, you have been giving her a rough time; you can’t deny it.’
Banks looked at his watch. ‘Is she coming back soon?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘No idea? Where is she?’
‘I told you,’ Barker said. ‘We had a row and she stormed out.’
‘Where to?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Did she say anything?’
‘She said she was going to see a man about a dog.’
‘A lot of help that is.’
‘Just what I thought.’
‘And you’d been on at her about knowing something?’
‘Yes.’
‘Did she take the car?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right.’ Banks got to his feet. ‘Come on.’
Without thinking, Barker jumped up and obeyed the command. Banks only gave him time to blow out the candles and lock the door.
‘Look, what’s going on?’ Barker asked as they shot into the darkening dale. ‘You’re driving like a bloody lunatic. Is something wrong? Is Penny in
danger?’
‘Why should she be?’
‘For Christ’s sake, I don’t know. But you’re behaving damned oddly, if you ask me. What the hell’s happening?’
Banks didn’t reply. He focused all his concentration on driving, and the silence intensified as darkness grew. On the northern outskirts of Eastvale, he turned on to the York Road.
‘Where are we going?’ Barker asked a few minutes later.
‘Almost there,’ Banks replied. ‘And I want you to do exactly as I say. Remember that. I’ve only brought you with me because I know you’re fond of Penny and you
happened to be in her house. I’d no time to waste, and you might be some use, but do as I say.’ He broke off to overtake a lorry.
Barker gripped the dashboard. ‘So you’ve not brought me along for the pleasure of my company?’
‘Give me a break.’
‘Seriously, Chief Inspector, is she in danger?’
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what we’re going to find. Don’t worry, though, it won’t be long now,’ he said, and the tyres squealed as he turned sharp
left. About a quarter of a mile along the bumpy minor road, Banks pulled into a driveway and Barker pointed and said, ‘That’s her car. That’s Penny’s car.’
A face peered through a chink in the curtains as they jumped out of the Cortina and hurried towards the door.
‘No time for pleasantries,’ Banks said after trying the handle to no avail. He stood back and gave a hard kick, which splintered the wood around the lock and sent the door flying
open. With Barker close behind, he rushed into the living room and quickly took in the strange tableau.
There were three people. Michael Ramsden stood facing Banks, white-faced and slack-jawed. Penny lay inert on the couch. And a woman stood with her back to them all.
In a split second, it came to life. Barker gasped and ran over to Penny, and Ramsden started to shake.
‘My God,’ he groaned, ‘I knew this would happen. I knew it.’
‘Shut up!’ the woman said, and turned to face Banks.
She wore a clinging red dress that accentuated her curves; her hair was drawn back into a tight V on her forehead and carefully applied blusher highlighted the cheekbones of her heart-shaped
face. But the most striking thing about her was her eyes. Before, Banks had only seen them watery and distorted through thick lenses, but now she was wearing contacts they were the chilly green of
moss on stones, and the power that shone through them was hard and piercing. It was Emma Steadman, transformed almost beyond recognition.
Ramsden collapsed into an armchair, head in hands, whimpering, while Emma continued to glare at Banks.
‘You bastard,’ she said, and spat at him. ‘You ruined it all.’ Then she lapsed into a silence he never heard her break.
But Ramsden
talked as willingly as a sinner in the confessional, and what he said over the first two hours following his arrest gave the police enough evidence to charge
both of them. Banks was astonished at Ramsden’s compulsion to unburden himself, and realized only then what terrible pressure the man must have been under, what inner control he must have
exerted.
As for Penny, she said she had been doing a great deal of thinking over the last few days. Steadman’s death, Banks’s questions and Sally’s disappearance had all forced her to
look more deeply into a past she had ignored for so long, and especially into the events of a summer ten years ago.
At first she remembered nothing. She hadn’t lied; everything had seemed innocent to her. But then, she said, the more she found herself dwelling on the memory, the more little things
seemed to take on greater significance than they had done at the time. Glances exchanged between Emma Steadman and Michael Ramsden – had they really happened or were they just her
imagination? Ramsden’s insistent overtures, then his increasing lack of interest – again, had it really happened that way? Was there, perhaps, a simple explanation? All these things had
inflamed her curiosity.