A Dedicated Man

TWO

‘It’s a bugger, Alan,’ Gristhorpe said, rubbing his eyes, which had lost much of their childlike innocence through lack of sleep. He looked tired, pale and hurt, as if the whole affair, done right on his doorstep, was a personal affront. ‘A bugger…’

They were in the Queen’s Arms opposite the station, and it was almost afternoon closing time. Only a few dedicated drinkers and tourists in need of a late sandwich and shandy sat scattered around the lounge.

‘We’ve got nothing so far,’ the superintendent went on, sniffing as Banks lit a cigarette. ‘The body was so bloody waterlogged and badly battered Glendenning couldn’t give us any idea of what killed her. For all he can say, she might have fallen in and hit her head, or just drowned. A full autopsy’s going to take time, and even then they can’t promise owt.’

‘What’s Glendenning doing now?’

‘You know him, Alan – couldn’t wait to get at it. Stomach contents, organs, tissue samples. God knows, they’ve got to keep looking. It could even be poison.’

‘What do you think?’ Banks asked, sipping his pint of Theakston’s bitter.

Gristhorpe shook his head. ‘I don’t know. They’ve got their jobs to do. Does it matter what killed her at this point? If we’re right, and it’s what we think it is, there was probably just a blow to the head, like Steadman. Glendenning might not even be able to verify that.’

‘I just wish we knew a bit more about why it happened,’ Banks said. ‘Certainly I think there’s a connection to the Steadman case – has to be – I just don’t know what it is. The girl knew something and instead of coming to me she confronted the killer. I suppose she wasn’t sure and simply wanted to find out for herself. Add it all up and we’ve still got nothing. So she knew something. What? She phoned someone. Who? Why? They met. Where?’

‘We might be able to answer that last one soon,’ Gristhorpe said. ‘I’ve got men following the becks all the way up the hillside looking for physical evidence. There’ll be some kind of grisly map of her progress.’