A Dedicated Man

FOUR

Hackett had already been waiting an hour when Banks got back from York, and he was not at all amused.

‘Look here,’ he protested, as Banks led him upstairs to the office. ‘You can’t do this to me. You can’t just drag me in like this without an explanation. I’ve got a business to run. I told you everything last night.’

‘You told me nothing last night.’ Banks took off his jacket and hung it on the back of the door. ‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘Make yourself at home.’

The room was stuffy, so Banks reopened the window and the smells of Market Street wafted up: exhaust fumes, fresh-baked bread, something sweet and sickly from the chocolate shop. Hackett sat rigidly in his chair and lapsed into a tense affronted silence.

‘There’s nothing to get excited about,’ Banks told him, taking out his pipe and fiddling with it over the waste-paper basket.

‘Then why did your sergeant kidnap me like that and rush me over here, eh? I want my lawyer.’

‘Oh, do relax, Mr Hackett! There’s really no need for melodrama. You’ve been watching far too many American films on television. I’ve not brought you here to lay charges or anything like that. I’m sorry if Sergeant Hatchley seemed a little brusque – it’s just his manner. I’ve got a few questions to ask you, that’s all.’ He gave Hackett a sharp glance. ‘Just one or two little things we’d like to get cleared up.’

‘Why pick on me? What about Jack, or the doc?’

‘Do you know of any reason they might have had for killing Mr Steadman?’

‘Well, no, I didn’t mean to imply that. It’s just that…’

‘Did he ever say anything about them to you, give you any reason to think one of them might want him out of the way?’

‘No. That’s not what I meant, anyway. I’m not trying to put the blame on someone else. I just want to know why you picked on me to haul in like this.’

‘Crabtree’s Field.’ Banks picked up his pipe and reached for the matches.

Hackett sighed. ‘So that’s it. Someone’s been telling tales. I should have known you’d have found out before long.’

Banks lit his pipe and gazed at the ceiling. Some old juices trickled down the stem and caught in his throat; he coughed and pulled a face.

Hackett looked at him angrily. ‘You don’t give a damn, do you? Anyway, it’s nobody’s bloody business-’

‘It’s police business now, Mr Hackett,’ Banks interrupted. He put his pipe aside and drained the cold coffee left in his mug. ‘If it’s all the same to you, the sooner we get it cleared up, the better.’

Hackett shuffled in his chair and smoothed his droopy moustache. ‘It was nothing,’ he said. ‘Just a minor disagreement over an acre or two of land, that’s all.’

‘Countries have been invaded for less,’ Banks remarked, and went on to give Hackett the details as he had heard them.

‘Yes,’ Hackett agreed, ‘that’s more or less it. But I wouldn’t kill anyone for that, let alone a close friend like Harry. Even if he did want to wrap up the whole bloody dale and give it to the National Trust, I liked the man. I respected his principles, even though they weren’t the same as mine.’

‘But you did argue about the field?’ Banks persisted.

‘We argued about it, yes. But it was half in fun. The others will tell you. Harry liked a good argument as well as the next man. It wasn’t that important.’

‘Money is always important, Mr Hackett. How much did you expect to make from the land if you got it?’

‘That’s impossible to say. I wouldn’t stand to make anything for ages, of course. I’d be out of pocket, in fact. There’s the purchase price, construction, publicity… It could have been years before I started showing a profit.’

‘So you were only in it for the fun?’

‘Not only that, no. I mean, I like business. It’s a way of life that suits me. I like doing deals. I like building things up. But of course I wouldn’t put out good money if I didn’t think the eventual returns would be substantial.’

‘Can we agree,’ Banks asked, ‘that you did hope at some point to make a considerable amount from your investment?’

‘Hell, yes. Eventually.’

‘And now?’

‘What about now? I don’t understand.’

‘Oh, come on, Mr Hackett. Don’t play the innocent. The pitch is clear now, isn’t it? The field’s yours.’

Hackett laughed and relaxed in his chair. ‘That’s just where you’re wrong, I’m afraid. You see, I think Harry pulled it off. At least there’s a freeze on the place right now. I suppose young Ramsden will carry on his master’s work and wrap it up. A bloody Roman camp! I ask you! What’s there but a few broken pots and stones? No wonder the bloody economy’s in the state it’s in. No room for initiative anymore.’

‘Oh,’ said Banks, feigning surprise, ‘I thought our government wanted to encourage small businesses.’

Hackett glared at him; whether for the slight about his fiscal proportions or for picking up a throwaway comment, Banks wasn’t quite sure. ‘You know what I mean, Chief Inspector. We’re hamstrung by these historical societies and tourist boards. They’re all a load of bloody romantics as far as I can see. It’s all a myth. The past wasn’t like that; it wasn’t neat and tidy like they all seem to think, for Christ’s sake. Life was nasty, brutish and short, as the man said. Just because I never went to university, it doesn’t make me an ignoramus, you know. I’ve read books, too. If you ask me, Harry walked around seeing the past through rose-coloured glasses. Penny Cartwright, too. In reality, life must have been bloody misery back then. Imagine them poor Roman sods freezing their balls off up north when they could have been lounging around in the sun on the seven hills drinking vino and rogering the local tarts. And as for the bloody Industrial Revolution, it was nothing but exploitation – hard, harsh work for most people. No, Chief Inspector, Harry hadn’t a bloody clue about the past, for all his degrees.’

‘Maybe you should move somewhere else,’ Banks suggested. ‘I doubt they care much for local history in Wigan, for example, or Huddersfield.’

‘You’d be surprised,’ Hackett said. ‘It’s all over the bloody place. They call it civic pride. They’re even flogging Bradford as the “gateway to Bronte country” now – and if they can get away with that they can do anything. Besides, I like it here. Don’t think just because I’m a businessman I lack a finer appreciation of nature. I’m as much for the environment as the next man.’

‘What were you doing on Saturday night?’ Banks asked, renewing the attack on his pipe with a cleaner.

Hackett scratched his receding hairline. ‘After I left the Bridge I went to a new club in Darlington. I drove up there, had a couple of drinks in a local, then went on to the club. I know the owner, like. We’ve done a bit of business together.’

‘So you left the Bridge at what time?’

‘About half nine.’

‘And drove straight to Darlington?’

‘Well, not exactly. I went home first to get changed.’

‘What time did you leave for Darlington?’

‘About ten to ten.’

‘And arrived?’

‘About half past, twenty to eleven.’

‘And you went to the club when?’

‘Half eleven, quarter to twelve.’

‘What’s it called?’

‘The KitKat Klub. Only been open a few weeks. It’s a sort of disco place, but not too loud. Caters for the more mature crowd.’

‘I suppose you knew people there, people who can corroborate your story?’

‘I talked to a few people, yes. And there’s Andy Shaw, the owner.’

Banks took down the details, including the name of the pub, and noticed how anxious Hackett looked throughout the process.

‘Anything else you can tell us, Mr Hackett?’

Hackett chewed on his lower lip and frowned. ‘No, nothing.’

‘Right then, off you go,’ Banks said. He stood up and walked over to open the door.

As soon as Hackett was out of the building, Banks called Sergeant Hatchley in and asked if he’d found anything in his search of Steadman’s study.

‘Nowt much of interest, no,’ Hatchley said. ‘A few manuscripts, letters to historical preservation societies – they’re on my desk if you want to look at them.’

‘Later.’

‘And he had one of those fancy computers – a word processor. I suppose he had to spend his brass on something. Remember how much wheeling and dealing it took us to get central admin to let us have one downstairs?’

Banks nodded.

‘And now they send bloody Richmond off t’ seaside to learn how to use the bugger.’ Hatchley shook his head slowly and left the office.