Children of the Revolution

Chapter 5

‘What did you make of Ms Snider, then?’ Annie asked Winsome as they sat in the cafeteria of Eastvale College drinking Coke Zero with their vegetarian curries, which to Annie tasted more like vegetable soup with a teaspoon of curry powder stirred in at the last minute. Jim Cooper had said over the telephone that he would join them there after his class, and they had seized the opportunity to take a break and get something to eat. The students bustled around them, occasionally casting curious glances in their direction. Annie didn’t blame them.

For once, though, it wasn’t because Winsome happened to be a six-foot-two-inch Jamaican woman. The college was the only place in Eastvale — a town of close to 20,000 people — where you saw any kind of racial mix. There were blacks, Asians, all sorts, in addition to plenty of Europeans. Of course, you would see overseas students in town occasionally, shopping or having a night out at one of the pubs or clubs on the market square, but mostly they hung around the campus area, where most of them lived in bedsits or residences. There was plenty to do out there, on the south-eastern edge of town, quite a few pubs and a even a nightclub or two, plus the Union had bands every Saturday night. It wasn’t exactly The Who Live at Leeds, but they prided themselves on bringing in popular up-and-coming bands, and the students were an enthusiastic audience, the ticket sales good.

But this time people were staring at them because she and Winsome were by far the oldest people in the refectory.

Winsome swallowed a mouthful of curry and pulled a face. ‘I must say, I felt a bit sorry for Gavin Miller,’ she said.

‘Why?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I can see what she meant about them being ill suited. It doesn’t sound as if he would have been at all comfortable with a woman like her.’

‘It just goes to show you, Winsome, it’s not always just a matter of having interests in common.’

‘I think I already knew that. I had a boyfriend once, back in Jamaica. Met him at church. Everyone said he was a nice boy and came from a good family. We both enjoyed Bible studies and cricket.’

‘You?’ said Annie, almost choking on her curry. ‘Cricket?’

Winsome smiled. ‘And why not? It’s practically a religion where I come from. If you can’t beat them, join them. And I was a pretty good off-spinner, if I say so myself.’

‘You played, too? Wonders never cease.’

‘I got Brian Lara out first ball in a charity game.’

‘He must have been knocking on a bit by then.’

‘No, he wasn’t.’

‘Just teasing. Anyway, this boy?’

‘William, his name was. His father was a minister.’

‘So what was the problem?’

‘Well, we did have a lot in common and everything, but... well. He picked his nose.’

‘He what?’

‘I told you. He picked his nose.’

‘And for that you dumped him?’

‘Would you go out with a boy who picked his nose? It’s a sign of poor hygiene, and poor hygiene means bad character, which in turn hints at moral bankruptcy.’

Annie thought of some of the boys, and men, she’d been out with and shook her head slowly. If all they’d done wrong was pick their noses she would have had a much easier time of things. ‘Winsome, I’m certainly glad I don’t have to worry about coming up to your standards.’

Winsome gave her a puzzled glance. ‘Anyway, he tried to put his hand up my dress, too. So there. I was right about him.’ She pushed her tray away and folded her arms. A few seconds passed, then she looked at her plate. ‘That was terrible,’ she said, and started laughing.

Annie laughed, too. ‘I heartily agree. But let’s get back to Dayle Snider. She was pretty quick to condemn Gavin Miller, don’t you think?’

‘Clearly Gavin Miller had problems with women,’ said Winsome. ‘I don’t like to pass judgement without full knowledge of the facts, but from what I’ve heard, I would have to agree that a man like him — timid, weak, frustrated, but lustful — might well have tried to get his own way with a girl by devious means. It wouldn’t be the first time a man’s done something like that.’

‘Well, it lost him his job,’ said Annie.

‘Quite rightly. You can’t have people like that in contact with the young and vulnerable.’

Annie felt a presence hovering over them and turned to see a man in an open-neck checked shirt and baggy chinos. He was in his mid-fifties, she guessed, hair thinning at the front and far too long at the back, plastered down by some sort of gel. He was wearing a Celtic cross on a heavy silver chain around his neck, and a gold earring dangled from his left ear. On the whole, Annie was suspicious of men who wore jewellery, and she hated men with earrings on sight. She didn’t know why; she just did.

‘Jim Cooper,’ he said, sitting down in the free plastic orange chair and offering his hand. Annie shook it first, then Winsome. ‘I didn’t think you were students,’ he went on. ‘Not that we don’t accept mature students here, of course.’

Well, thought Annie, here’s a man who knows how to ingratiate himself with you right off the bat. She imagined he and Gavin Miller might have been comparable in their lack of social graces and general appeal to the opposite sex. Maybe Cooper didn’t pick his nose, though Annie wouldn’t have been surprised if he did, but she bet he was the sort who would stick his hand up your dress on a first date. It was a snap judgement, of course, the kind that got her into trouble far too often, but sometimes a woman just knew. So far, Eastvale College wasn’t doing terribly well in the ‘best place to find a man in Eastvale’ stakes. And then there was the earring. She would have to work hard at maintaining a polite front throughout the interview.

Along with Cooper had come a new influx of students anxious to sample the vegetarian curry, and the noise level was making it difficult to hear. ‘Do you have an office or somewhere quieter we could go?’ Annie asked Cooper.

He glanced around the refectory. ‘Yes, I suppose it is a bit of a racket, isn’t it? Funny how you get used to such things. My office is about the size of an airing cupboard, but if you’re not up for a game of sardines, there’s a staff coffee lounge where we should be able to get a bit of peace and quiet. And a decent cup of coffee.’

‘The lounge will do nicely,’ said Annie.

They walked out of the canteen and across a busy square into another three-storey concrete monstrosity. Towards the back was the staff lounge, and Cooper turned out to be right. It was practically deserted, decorated in soft, muted colours, with vertical fabric blinds and padded sofas and armchairs. They each got a coffee from the machine and took a corner table. Annie’s armchair was lumpy and badly angled, however, and nowhere near as comfortable as it had appeared. She had been far more comfortable in the moulded plastic orange chair in the canteen.

‘I’m afraid I don’t have very long,’ said Cooper, checking the time. ‘I have another class at two. Communications.’

‘What’s that?’ asked Winsome.

‘Mostly it’s a matter of teaching parts of speech and sentence structure to people who don’t speak English,’ Cooper said, ‘but it’s actually meant to cover the whole gamut of human communication, how we think, and what it all means. Trouble is, most of the students don’t think.’

‘All of them?’ Winsome asked.

‘No. Not all,’ Cooper conceded. ‘You do get the occasional one who stands out.’

‘Was Kayleigh Vernon one of them?’ Annie asked.

Cooper’s eyes narrowed. ‘You go straight for the jugular, don’t you? As a matter of fact, there were only two things about Kayleigh Vernon that stood out, and I’m sure you can guess what they are.’

Annie gritted her teeth. ‘So she was no genius,’ she managed to grind out.

‘You could say that. Average. Uninspired and uninspiring, except to thoughts of idle lust on a summer’s afternoon. Definitely second-rate material, intellectually speaking.’

‘And this test that she failed?’

‘Wasn’t the first or the last. Oh, she managed to scrape through in the end with a good enough diploma to get her a job as a tea-girl in a film studio, or some such job, if she was lucky.’

‘Is that what she’s doing?’

‘No idea. I’ve no more interest in them once they leave.’

‘Doesn’t sound as if you have an awful lot of interest in them while they’re here,’ Winsome commented.

Cooper gave her a surprised glance. ‘It’s a job,’ he said. ‘What can I say? They come and go. I remain.’

‘You were a friend of Gavin Miller’s both before and after the incident,’ Annie went on. ‘What did you make of it all?’

Cooper’s rumpled face took on a more serious expression, and he ran his hand over his hair. ‘Poor Gavin,’ he said. ‘I really am very upset about what happened to him. I still get angry when I think about it. I suppose I try to cover up my feelings with flippancy, but it’s a real loss.’

‘Not many people seem to agree.’

Annie was aware of Winsome giving her a puzzled look and realised that she might have been just a bit too harsh. Fortunately, Cooper didn’t notice, or he simply ignored it. ‘Gavin was a good mate,’ he went on. ‘I’ll admit he was a bit eccentric, and not to everyone’s taste, but I think the college could have treated him with a bit more respect.’

‘What did he say to you about what happened?’

‘You’re asking me if he confessed in private?’

‘If he did, I’d be grateful if you’d tell me, but I’d prefer the simple truth. Believe me, all we want to know is whether the sexual misconduct incident could be in any way connected with Gavin Miller’s death. We’re not after blackening his character.’

‘Just as well. You’d have to join the queue. And you’d be a bit late. The simple truth, eh? Now there’s an oxymoron if ever there was one. Surely even in your job you must be aware that the truth is rarely simple?’

‘Stop pissing us around, Mr Cooper. Did Gavin Miller maintain his innocence?’

Cooper swallowed and glared at her. ‘Always.’

‘And did you believe him?’

‘He was my friend.’

‘That’s not an answer.’

‘Does it really matter what happened in the Marabar Caves?’

Annie and Winsome gave one another puzzled looks. ‘What are you talking about?’ Annie said.

‘A Passage to India. David Lean or E.M. Forster, depending on your point of view. An Indian man is accused of raping an English girl in a cave. The viewer, or reader, doesn’t really know what happened. It’s the consequences that are important.’

Annie smiled at Winsome. ‘Well, don’t you just love intellectual show-offs?’ She leaned forward and stared hard at Cooper. ‘We didn’t do that one at school. We did Howards End, and I bloody well wished it would. End, that is. The consequences here were that Gavin Miller lost his job, and now he seems to have been murdered, so what went on in his office that day does happen to be important.’

‘I told you, the truth is never simple.’

‘Bollocks,’ said Annie. ‘It’s only complicated when people like you complicate it with literary allusions.’

‘Then, yes, as it happens, I did believe him.’

‘Alle-bloody-luia. Thank you. Now why would Kayleigh Vernon lie about something like that?’

‘Kayleigh? How would I know her motives? I’d guess it was probably her idea of a joke, a bit of fun. But I’d guess that Beth Gallagher probably put her up to it.’

‘You knew them both?’

‘I taught them Media Studies. It’s not the same thing as knowing them. They were both cheats and teases. Gavin’s first big mistake was letting himself be alone in his office with one of them. Kayleigh Vernon was failing. Half the time she didn’t turn up for his classes, and when she did she was too busy admiring herself in her mirror or touching up her nails to do any work. Failing the test would mean failing the course, and she’d have to repeat the whole thing the following year. She needed to pass that course in order to graduate.’

‘But why would he put his arm around her?’

‘To console her. For all his brains, he was soft, was Gavin. Not quite as cynical as me.’

‘And Beth?’

‘I’d say Beth was more of an opportunist. They often go far.’

‘Are you suggesting that Gavin Miller didn’t touch either of them?’

‘I’m saying we don’t know for certain that he did, but that it doesn’t matter. The whole thing was a joke, a farce. There was no evidence, no case.’

These were Annie’s feelings exactly, but she kept quiet. She didn’t want to show Cooper that she agreed with him on anything.

‘I told him he should go to the press with the story,’ Cooper went on, ‘but he wouldn’t. I should have known. Gav was shy of all the attention bad publicity like that would bring. He couldn’t have handled it.’

‘But weren’t the girls risking a lot by lying?’ Annie asked.

‘What were they risking? You can see what happened for yourselves. The deck was stacked in their favour. It could have been any one of us.’

‘But it was Gavin Miller.’

‘Yes. And I’m not sure he ever got over it. Gav wasn’t the sociopath some make him out to be; underneath it all, he was soft and sensitive. True, he was awkward with women. He was shy, yes, but even when they laid it on a plate for him, he wouldn’t take the bait. Hopeless.’

‘Are you sure he wasn’t gay?’

‘If he was, he never tried it on with me. No, he fancied women. There’s no doubt about that. I mean, sometimes we’d get pissed and watch a bit of porn together, and—’

Winsome held her hand up. ‘Whoa. Too much information.’

Cooper frowned at her. ‘What? Oh. It wasn’t anything illegal. Just... Anyway, Gav wasn’t gay.’

‘I take it you’re not married, then, Mr Cooper?’ Annie said.

Cooper grinned. ‘Never found the right woman.’

Annie could see why it might take a bit of searching, but she just nodded and went on. ‘What did you think of Dayle Snider?’

‘That ball-busting bitch. God knows why Lomax thought she was even a remote possibility for Gav. I wouldn’t be surprised if she turned out to be a dyke.’

‘Why don’t you tell us what you really think, Jim?’ said Annie.

He caught her tone and gave a sheepish smile. ‘It was just another humiliation for Gav, that’s all. So I have no reason to like her. I don’t know the details, but Gav probably felt so intimidated he couldn’t get it up or something, and no doubt she made her dissatisfaction known and humiliated him further. He didn’t talk about it. And she dropped him the minute his troubles started.’

‘What was she supposed to do? According to Dayle, he came over to her place drunk one night and started raving. Maybe she had good reason to think he was guilty?’

‘Why?’

‘Maybe he’d tried something similar with her?’

‘No way. Besides, he wouldn’t need to. She’d have spread her legs at the drop of a hat.’

Annie rolled her eyes. ‘What did the two of you talk about when you were together?’

‘Well, with Gav it wasn’t as easy as most blokes around here — you know, football, telly, complain about the students and the administration. He liked a drink, though, as do I, so we’d get in a bottle of Johnny Walker or a box of wine or even go out to the pub sometimes. The Star and Garter in Coverton.’

‘Who paid?’

‘Well, I usually paid the lion’s share. Gav was broke most of the time after he got the sack. They didn’t give him a nice pension, you know, and he spent all he had on the down payment for that bloody cottage. Wanted somewhere isolated, away from it all.’

‘Did he talk about the old days a lot?’

‘Sometimes. We’d listen to old sixties stuff. Dreadful, some of it. I’m more into punk, myself. He’d ramble on about escapades on the road in his American days, going to Grateful Dead concerts and what have you.’

‘Did he give you any details, like where he was at what time, names of people he knew, that sort of thing? Anything specific?’

‘Nah. It was years ago. I mostly tuned out, anyway. He just seemed to ramble on. Probably tall tales, too, toking up with Jerry and the lads backstage.’

‘Drugs?’ said Winsome.

‘That was back in the early eighties,’ said Cooper. ‘There must be a statute of limitations. Besides, he’s dead.’

‘Did he ever take, or mention drugs when the two of you were together?’ Annie asked. ‘I mean other than old escapades. Anything more current?’

‘No, not really. He got a bit nostalgic about the old scene once in a while, said he wouldn’t mind travelling back in time. But nothing serious, no.’

‘So as far as you know, Gavin Miller wasn’t involved with drugs, either as a user or a seller?’

‘That’s right. Not when I knew him, anyway. I dare say we all committed a few indiscretions in our youth. It’s what youth’s about isn’t it?’

‘Let’s get a bit more up to date, Jim,’ Annie went on. ‘Sunday evening, around ten o’clock. Where were you?’

‘Me? At home marking papers, most likely.’

‘Most likely?’

‘Well, I went down to the George and Dragon for a couple of pints at some point in the evening. I don’t remember exactly when.’

‘People saw you?’

‘Sure. I’m a regular there.’

‘Do you know of anyone who harboured a grudge against Gavin?’

‘Not that I can think of.’

‘What about Kayleigh and Beth?’

‘Nah. They got what they wanted. They won, didn’t they?’

‘Parents? Big brothers? Boyfriends?’

‘For crying out loud, it was over four years ago.’

‘Some say revenge is a dish best served cold,’ said Winsome.

Cooper stared at her. ‘Out of the mouths of babes.’

‘Enough of that,’ Annie snapped. ‘What about Dayle Snider? Might she have harboured a grudge?’

‘I suppose she could have done. You know, taken it as a personal insult to her sexual allure if Gav couldn’t come up with the goods. And she’s certainly got the muscles for it, especially in the last while. Gav had been losing weight terribly. Poor sod hardly got a square meal every day. He was just flesh and bone.’

‘When did you last talk to him?’

‘Middle of last week.’

‘And how was he?’

‘Remarkably cheerful, actually.’

‘Did he say why?’

‘No. He just said the lean times might be coming to an end.’ Cooper snorted. ‘Well, they certainly did, didn’t they, but not in the way he meant.’

‘He didn’t elaborate?’

‘No. Just that. Like, watch this space. He’d been going on about opening a record shop in the village for some time, vinyl only. A collectors’ paradise. He said it would bring in punters from all over the country. The Chamber of Commerce would be on their knees thanking him.’

‘And he was in a position to do this?’

‘You must be joking. It was a dream. Gav was nothing if not a dreamer. But I must say he seemed remarkably optimistic about it the last time we talked. I told him he must be crazy, in this day and age. Everyone buys online now. The market for collectors must be a pretty small one.’

‘Was he worried about anything?’

‘No. I just told you, he was quite cheerful.’

‘Before that?’

‘He was always worried about money, and he sometimes got a bit depressed and angry when he talked about his ex-wife. She left him for a plumber, apparently. I don’t think he ever got over her. And sometimes his resentment over what happened at the college would burst up to the surface, and he’d relive it all over again.’

‘Might he have wanted revenge on Kayleigh and Beth?’

‘I would if I’d been him, but I think he just saw it as the system being against him. Mostly when he got angry it was the board and the committee he insulted. The ones that actually fired him. The ones he thought were supposed to support him.’

‘So he felt betrayed by the college authorities?’

‘Very much so.’

‘What about Trevor Lomax? How did Gavin feel about him?’

‘OK. They got on all right. He didn’t place Trevor in the enemy camp. Trevor didn’t sit on the committee. He called it a kangaroo court and tried to defend Gav. He got into trouble over that himself. Gav respected him. He’s just a bit wishy-washy, that’s all. No balls. I think it’s the wife who wears the trousers in that house, as they used to say.’

‘Sally Lomax?’

‘Right. And she’s a good friend of that Dayle Snider woman. Makes sense to me.’

‘Did Gavin have any other close friends?’

‘I wouldn’t say anyone was close to him, really, except me. He didn’t seem to have any old friends from school or university days. Still, I can’t say I have, myself. You lose touch, don’t you?’

‘Might Gavin have arranged to meet one of the girls on Sunday for some reason? Kayleigh or Beth?’

‘I can’t think why. Unless she’d promised to give him a blow job or something, which I very much doubt. Besides, they’re not around here any more.’

‘Where are they?’

‘I told you, I neither know nor care. I’m sure the college authorities will be able to tell you. Due to some fault in the stars, no doubt, they both graduated.’

Annie realised that the sooner they tracked down the girls and talked to them, the better. She didn’t think they’d get much from Kayleigh or Beth, especially if they were liars and expert manipulators, but it had to be done. At least Annie would get the chance to decide for herself whether she thought they were lying or whether Gavin Miller really was guilty as charged. A police interview can be a bit more challenging than a committee already weighing in your favour. She could ask a few more awkward questions than an academic panel. Her back was hurting like hell from the chair she was sitting in, and she didn’t think there was much more to be gained from continuing their conversation with the obnoxious Mr Cooper, so she gave Winsome the nod and stood up to leave.

‘Is that all?’ Cooper said, remaining seated.

‘For the moment,’ Annie said.

He grinned in what he probably thought was a charming, lopsided way. ‘But don’t leave town, right?’

‘As a matter of fact, you can go where the hell you like, Jimmy,’ said Annie, and walked out with a shocked Winsome following in her wake.

‘This is police harassment, this is,’ complained Lisa Gray when Winsome approached her as she left the converted Victorian terraced house near the college, where she rented a flat.

Winsome opened the passenger door. ‘You saved me from having to climb the stairs. Thanks. Get in. And that’s enough of the attitude.’

It was pouring down again, naturally, and the street, with its tall dark brick houses and dripping trees, seemed very bleak. The trees weren’t quite bare yet, and soggy leaves lined the gutters and stuck to the potholed tarmac surface of the road.

Head hidden inside her hoodie, Lisa slid onto the front seat and hunched down. ‘I’m clean, you know. I don’t know what your drugs squad buddies told you, but you won’t find anything on me.’ The rain was hammering on the roof of the car and streaming down the windows.

‘Fasten your seat belt,’ Winsome said, turning on the ignition and setting off.

Lisa did so. ‘Where we going?’

‘That’s up to you. We can go for a nice cup of coffee in the Swainsdale Centre, or to a cold, smelly interview room at the nick. Your choice.’

Lisa looked at her with clear, bright eyes, the hood slipping back just a little to reveal a fringe of damp hair and a pale complexion. ‘What’s the catch?’

‘No catch. If you’re willing to talk to me, it’s the coffee shop, just you and me, nice and easy. If it’s going to be like pulling teeth, it’s the nick.’

Lisa appeared to mull this over for a few moments. ‘You buying?’

Winsome sighed. ‘I’m buying.’

‘Grande latte?’

‘You drive a hard bargain, Lisa, but a grande latte it is.’

‘And one of those big chocolate chip cookies.’

‘Enough,’ said Winsome. A few moments later, she pulled into the shopping centre car park and found a spot on the fourth level. From there, they could walk straight through to the floor they wanted. The coffee shop at the far end was busy inside, but there was a table free out front, where they could watch the crowds of shoppers come and go to Next, Argos, Boots and Curry’s Digital. She told Lisa to go and sit down and went inside to buy the coffees, keeping an eye on her as she waited. She didn’t expect Lisa to make a run for it, but she didn’t want to seem like a fool if that did happen. She had brought down a runner with a rugby tackle in Marks & Spencer once and never lived it down back at the station. It was almost as notorious as the so-called drop kick she had used to knock a troublesome drug dealer off a third-floor balcony on the East Side Estate.

When she saw the cookies, she decided that she might as well have one herself. A treat for doing a miserable job on a miserable day. There were umbrellas and wet coats all over the place, but the smell of hot coffee and fresh ground beans overwhelmed it all, for which Winsome was truly thankful.

‘Service with a smile. And from a copper, no less,’ said Lisa, who seemed a small, shrunken figure huddled at the table. Conversations and children’s cries buzzed around them, and the hissing and sputtering of the espresso machine vied with the grinder in the background to make conversation almost impossible. Eventually, Lisa pulled her hood back and Winsome got a full view of the pretty pixieish young face with the large grey-blue eyes. Lisa’s dyed blonde hair was cropped short and streaked pink and yellow here and there, which somehow made her appear even younger than her twenty-three years. She also looked odd enough, with her various piercings on display, that one or two people glanced over at them, the big black woman and the skinny punk, and turned away quickly. Winsome wondered who frightened them the most.

‘I know you, don’t I?’ said Lisa. ‘You’re not DS.’

‘I’m sure we’ve seen one another around town from time to time. Actually I am DS. Detective sergeant that is, not drugs squad. DS Jackman.’

‘Yeah. I’ve seen your picture in the papers, too. I know you. You’re the one who drop-kicked the Bull over the balcony of Hague House, on the East Side Estate, aren’t you?’

Winsome sipped her coffee and smiled at the memory. ‘Yeah, well, he did ask for it. But it wasn’t a drop kick.’

‘Awesome,’ said Lisa. ‘He was a real mean bastard. Used to beat up the girls. But what do you want with me?’

‘Your name came up,’ said Winsome. She wasn’t here to persecute Lisa. Her name was on the list of people Gavin Miller had called over the past month, and the drugs squad had picked her as the most likely person to be supplying Miller with small amounts of cannabis, even though she wasn’t a dealer herself. She knew people, they said, she could get her hands on small amounts, act as the middleman, put people in contact with those who had what they needed. A facilitator. The drugs squad kept an eye on her in case she led them to any of the bigger players, but they had no particular interest in her themselves. What also caused them to pick Lisa was that she had a connection with Eastvale College and had taken courses with Gavin Miller four years ago, during the academic year of his humiliation and dismissal. ‘I need information,’ said Winsome. ‘I want to talk to you about Gavin Miller.’

Lisa sipped some latte. It left a line of froth on her upper lip that almost covered the ring that was stuck through it. She wiped the foam off with the back of her hand. Winsome noticed a tattoo of an angel on her pale, thin wrist. ‘Poor bastard,’ said Lisa. ‘I heard what happened to him.’

‘Did you know him?’

‘Of course I did. You already know that, or you wouldn’t have brought me here, would you?’

‘That’s the way I like things to be,’ said Winsome. ‘I ask questions and you answer them. That way we don’t need to go down the nick.’

‘No skin off my nose. I told you, I’m clean. And anything incriminating you claim I told you, I’ll deny it.’

‘Nobody’s interested in arresting you, Lisa. Not even the drugs squad. We know what you do. You’re not a big enough fish.’

‘Yeah, right... well, just so’s you know. How did you find me?’

‘You talked to Gavin Miller on the phone recently, and the drugs squad have heard of you.’ She paused. ‘Let’s get this straight before we begin, Lisa. They say you’re not exactly a dealer. You say you’re not a dealer. I’m not interested in what your business is. I’m only interested in Gavin Miller. Not only did you supply drugs to him, which, by the way, makes you technically a dealer, but he was your teacher at Eastvale College four years ago, and if you find it hard to be frank about all this, then we’ll go to the nick right now.’

Lisa held her hand up. ‘OK. OK. I get it. Fine. I’ve got nothing to hide. But if you know all that already, what do you need me for?’

‘What happened?’

‘What do you mean, “what happened”?’

‘You were in college, doing well, as I heard it. What happened?’

‘Oh, you mean why am I wearing a hoodie and mixed up with drugs, not to mention covered in tattoos and piercings?’

Winsome couldn’t help but smile. She might be a moralist and a bit of a prude at heart, but she admired true spirit and individualism. Lisa could be a challenge. She bit into her chocolate chip cookie. It was good. An elderly lady passed them on her way to the toilet and cast a look of unmistakable hatred at them both. Neither could fail to notice.

Lisa turned to Winsome. ‘Tarred with the same brush, huh? Sorry, I didn’t mean anything racist by that.’

‘I know what you meant. I’ve been getting that sort of treatment all my life.’ She looked Lisa up and down. ‘It seems as if you’ve had to work a bit harder for it.’

Lisa seemed surprised for a moment, not sure whether to be insulted or not, then she burst out laughing and reddened. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Yeah, you got that right. I suppose you could say that.’ When she laughed and blushed she looked like an innocent teenager, but the hard expression quickly returned.

‘So what happened?’ Winsome asked again.

‘Nothing happened. Not in the way you mean it. I didn’t suddenly get abused by my uncle or raped by a gang of retards or anything. Things changed in my life, that’s all. For the worse. And that fucking place was full of phonies. I suddenly saw through them, is all.’

‘A revelation?’

‘Yeah. Like Saul on the road to Damascus. A blinding light.’

‘Did you graduate?’

‘No.’

‘You chose to get involved with the fast crowd instead? Was that another sudden conversion?’

‘Something like that. Anyway, what’s it to you? I don’t deal drugs, but if I did, I’d argue they’re a commodity like anything else. I’d argue that I was supplying a need that would only be supplied elsewhere if I didn’t do it. It’s one of the basic functions of capitalism, an open market, a choice of products and suppliers. I’d also argue that what I’m selling, or facilitating, is pretty harmless, probably less so than alcohol and cigarettes.’

‘But it’s still illegal.’

‘So was booze in America during Prohibition, and Coca-Cola used to have cocaine in it, and you could buy laudanum at the local chemist’s. I could go on. Anyway, who are you? Eliot Ness or something? Are you on some sort of moral crusade?’

Winsome shook her head. ‘No, I’m not on any sort of crusade. Just curious what sends someone with so much potential as you obviously have down a wrong turn, that’s all. What can you tell me about Gavin Miller?’

‘He was one of the good ones.’

‘You liked him?’

‘As a teacher. Yes.’

‘Did you ever meet with him one-on-one?’

‘Sure. We had to discuss essays and stuff. He liked my work. He said my grammar and spelling weren’t too good, but I thought for myself and didn’t just regurgitate what I’d read in books or what he said in class. We talked about life and stuff sometimes.’

‘In his office?’

‘Mostly. A couple of times we went for a drink or a coffee. That’s all.’

‘Trevor Lomax said Gavin Miller wasn’t a particularly good teacher because he insulted the students.’

‘He could be sarcastic sometimes, but most of them deserved to be insulted. And he loved his subjects, literature and film studies, which were my passion, too, and if he found the slightest grain of interest in anyone, he’d cultivate it. The problem was that he rarely did. Find a grain of interest.’

‘Is that what he did with you? Cultivate your grain of interest?’

Lisa turned away. ‘I suppose so. Tried. I could have been a better student.’

‘Didn’t you find him odd?’

‘A total fucking weirdo, but so what? So was I. We were both outsiders. And he was cool without trying. It was natural. We could talk about anything. He didn’t judge me. He respected my intelligence, for what it was.’

Lisa was the first person who had ever said that about Gavin Miller, at least to Winsome, and most likely to anyone else involved in the investigation of his death, or so she believed. ‘Did you sell him drugs?’ Winsome asked, sensing a mood of candour and pushing the envelope a bit. ‘And you can put all this “hypothetical” business aside. It doesn’t fool anyone, except yourself, maybe. As I said, I’m not interested.’ She held her arms out. ‘No wires.’

‘I wouldn’t know where to look.’ Lisa paused a moment to enjoy some coffee and cookie, then she said, ‘Sell Mr Miller drugs? You must be fucking joking. If you must know, I scored for him. Yes. I know people. He didn’t. Sell? Most of the time I had to pay for them myself.’

‘You bought him drugs?’

‘Just cannabis, right.’ Lisa leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘Mr Miller never had much money. I do OK — and not from dealing drugs, if that’s what you were thinking. So what if he enjoyed a little weed now and then? The man was a throwback to the sixties, politically and artistically. Spreading the wealth around.’

‘So you gave him drugs because you shared his Marxist philosophy?’

‘I’m no more a Marxist than I’m a drug dealer. Not in the way you see it. Sure, I put people in touch with one another sometimes or, as in Mr Miller’s case, yes, I got him what he wanted. But I didn’t profit from it. Like I said, it cost me more often than not. Drugs aren’t how I make my living.’

‘How do you do that?’

‘Well, I’m sort of unemployed at the moment, but I’ve published a few short stories and poems, and I’m working on a graphic novel and a movie script at the moment.’

‘What are they about?’

‘They’re dark fantasy. Sort of an alternate-world thing.’

‘Like Harry Potter?’

‘Darker, but just as successful, I hope. I also do a bit of busking. And I make jewellery. Sell it down the market.’

‘Do you have a studio?’

‘Hah! You must be joking. But I have a friend who does.’

‘Well, good luck with all that. Let’s get back to Gavin Miller and the drugs.’

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, it wasn’t much. Can’t you just leave it alone?’

‘Were you supplying him with drugs when you were his student?’

‘No way! I never even knew he was interested until a few months ago. Besides, I didn’t have access to any of that stuff at college.’

‘When did you last talk to him?’

‘About three weeks ago?’

‘Was there anything different about him?’

‘Different? No.’

‘What did you talk about?’

‘We didn’t talk. I was in a hurry so we just... you know... did the deal.’

‘Did he pay that time?’

‘No. He said he’d catch up with me later. I was used to it by then.’

‘Where did you get the drugs you sold, or gave, him?’

‘You don’t think I’m going to tell you that, do you? I know people, that’s all. I grew up on the East Side Estate. You never really leave it.’

‘I take it you didn’t have anything to do with Gavin Miller’s murder?’

‘What do you expect me to say to that? No, I didn’t. I hadn’t seen him for a couple of weeks.’

‘Where were you on Sunday night?’

‘At home in the flat. I had some mates around. We were watching telly.’

‘Downton Abbey?’

‘You must be fucking joking. We had a DVD. This is England ’88.’

‘Would they vouch for you?’

‘Course they would. Would you believe them?’

‘Do you own a car?’

‘What? Yeah. A Peugeot. It’s about ready for the knacker’s yard, but it gets me around.’

‘Have you ever been to Coverton?’

‘Why would I go there?’

‘It’s where he lived.’

‘He never told me where he lived. Why would he? We always met in town.’

‘Was Gavin Miller a dealer? Was he in the business, on the moneymaking side, or trying to get in?’

‘Mr Miller? No way. Mr Miller a dealer? He wouldn’t have had the bottle for it, for a start. And he wouldn’t have had to come to me, would he? Besides, there was no way he could have financed it himself.’

‘No matter how you dress it up,’ Winsome said, ‘what you do is illegal. You know that. And you might think that smoking cannabis is a harmless enough pastime that should be legalised, but LSD is a Class A drug. There’s a reason for that. It can do really bad things to a person’s mind. Gavin Miller had two hits of LSD in his possession at the time of his death. I suppose he got that from you, too? We can check. You can go to jail for that. How long do you think you could survive there?’

‘Well, thanks for your concern and all, but to tell you the truth, I don’t really think about it. I live one day at a time. And Mr Miller only ever wanted a couple of tabs of acid, once. He said he wanted to try it again. Relive the experience. I knew someone who had a source, that’s all. Reliable quality.’

They had found only two tabs of acid among Miller’s stash, it was true, so he clearly hadn’t even got around to taking the LSD before he died. Winsome had promised herself not to shift into reformist gear with Lisa, but it was difficult. Here was another bright, promising young girl perhaps on the verge of throwing her life away, as Winsome saw it. Once again, she admonished herself to focus on the task in hand and not to stray into the muddier avenues of rehabilitation. Maybe selling a bit of cannabis wasn’t such a terrible thing, after all. Plenty of the people had smoked it where Winsome came from, and they hadn’t all been drug-crazed criminals. ‘OK,’ she went on, ‘so you don’t think Gavin Miller was a dealer, and he wasn’t likely to become one?’

‘Right. He just liked to get off his face every now and then. What’s wrong with that?’

Winsome could think of a few things, but she didn’t want to sound even more prudish, so she sipped some coffee then wiped her mouth with her serviette. ‘We’re trying to find out who killed him, Lisa. You say you liked him. He was an oddball, OK, but there’s nothing illegal in that. Everyone says he was harmless, so who would want to harm him? Why?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Lisa. ‘I really don’t. But I’ll bet you it’s got nothing to do with drugs. Maybe he owed someone money or something?’

‘A moneylender? What makes you think that?’

‘I dunno. Just that he was always broke. Whenever I talked to him, anyway, which wasn’t that much or that often.’

Winsome knew that she couldn’t mention the five thousand pounds yet. The public still didn’t know about the money. If Gavin Miller wasn’t involved in dealing drugs, as she was coming to believe was the case, then the money probably had nothing to do with that, or with Lisa Gray. Lisa certainly wasn’t at a level to deal in numbers that high, and it wasn’t a price that Miller could afford to pay. ‘Just out of interest,’ she said, ‘you were around when Mr Miller had his spot of trouble at the college, weren’t you?’

‘Spot of trouble? They fucking crucified him.’

‘Were you in his class at the time?’

‘It’s not like school. You have classes with different lecturers. I was in his Film History course, yes. There were a lot of slackers there because they thought it was a doddle and all you had to do was sit and watch movies week after week, but it was really quite tough, and lots of people dropped out early on. Quite a few failed, as well.’

‘What about Beth Gallagher and Kayleigh Vernon?’

‘The Bitches of Eastvale? Actually, they were prize cunts.’

‘Do you think Gavin Miller did what they said he did?’

‘No way.’

‘How do you know?’

‘He told me. He was clearing his desk, and there was no one around. All his so-called mates who shared the office space were too embarrassed to be there to say goodbye when he left. I was walking by the office. His door was open. I said goodbye and that I was sorry to see him go. And he told me.’

‘Why you?’

Lisa shrugged. ‘I told you. We got along OK. I listened to him. Maybe he liked me and my good opinion mattered to him. Or maybe I just happened to be there at the right time. I don’t know. I like to think he felt he could trust me.’

‘Was there any—’

‘No, I wasn’t fucking him, if that’s what you’re after. There was nothing like that. He never even tried it on. Was always a real gentleman. A bit shy about all that, really.’

‘What did he actually say to you that day in his office?’

‘He said he’d been accused of making an improper suggestion to Kayleigh Vernon and letting his hand brush over Beth Gallagher’s tits, and he’d been asked to leave. He swore to me that he didn’t do it. He said that he was innocent, and he didn’t know why the two girls would want to do something so cruel to him. That he wanted me to know that, whatever anyone else believed. That it was important I should believe him.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I told him that I believed him.’

‘Were you sure?’

‘If I wasn’t then — which I was, pretty much — then I certainly was later.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I overheard the two cunts talking in the toilet when they thought there was no one else around.’

‘When was this?’

‘Later. Two or three weeks after he told me.’

‘What were they saying?’

‘That they’d got away with it, got rid of him, and how easy it was. They hadn’t expected everyone to just believe them, but it was so easy they couldn’t believe it. They were laughing at the way the members of the examining tribunal, or whatever they called themselves, had simply believed them, especially when Kayleigh put on the waterworks.’

‘But why did they want rid of him?’

‘It was Beth, really. She was the ringleader. She put Kayleigh up to it, then she weighed in herself when they thought another voice would do it.’

‘Was it some sort of practical joke?’

‘Fuck, no. Sorry. But no. If you’re searching for a drugs connection, perhaps this is it. They said how pleased Kyle would be. That’s another thing I didn’t find out until later, and something Mr Miller obviously didn’t know about, either. Kyle McClusky hung out with Beth and Kayleigh, and he was starting to deal a bit. Quite a lot, actually. I’m surprised your lot weren’t on to him. And Kyle dealt the really bad stuff, stuff I’d never touch with a bargepole.’

‘Such as?’

‘Crystal meth, coke, oxycodone, even heroin. He sold roofies as well.’

‘Are you saying...?’

‘Kyle McClusky was a piece of shit.’

‘So what did Gavin Miller have to do with all this?’

‘He found out about it. Or someone told him. He knew McClusky from one of his classes and gave him a chance, told him he’d better leave while he could, or he’d report him to the college authorities and the cops. If you’d known Mr Miller, you’d know how much effort it cost him just to do that. And I don’t know if he was smoking spliffs himself then, or anything, but I very much doubt it. There was never any talk, anyway. If you ask me, it was just something he got back into after he lost his job. He always seemed pretty straight at college. Weird, but straight, if you know what I mean. I think when he lost his job, he started drifting back into the past, trying to relive his favourite years. I can understand that. Sometimes the future doesn’t seem worth facing.’

‘You’re too young to be talking like that, Lisa.’

‘How old do you have to be to know that life sucks sometimes?’

‘What happened to Kyle McClusky?’

‘Fuck knows. Or cares. He just disappeared, eventually. I think he’s in Manchester or Birmingham or somewhere. Ask your drugs squad. Even they’ll probably have him on their books by now. Course, he was really pissed off with Mr Miller for ruining all his dreams, though from what I knew of him he didn’t have a hope in hell of realising them to start with. He was probably more pissed at his nice little drugs business going belly up, and those cunts Beth Gallagher and Kayleigh Vernon came up with a plan to help him get his own back.’

‘Didn’t Gavin Miller try to explain all this to the college authorities? It would have given the girls a motive for getting him sacked, for lying about what happened.’

Lisa snorted. ‘That’s a laugh, that is. What could he prove? Nothing against Kyle McClusky, that’s for sure. Remember, he had known what Kyle was up to ages before he got hauled up before the board, but he hadn’t reported him. That wouldn’t look so good to a committee of stuck-up prigs, would it? It was the girls’ word against his, and the college believed the girls. End of story.’

‘Did Gavin Miller know that Kyle hung out with Beth and Kayleigh?’

‘I don’t think so. Not till later. Kyle was only in one of his classes, and not the same one as Beth and Kayleigh. No one made the connection until too late.’

‘But you found out later?’

‘Yes. I saw the three of them cosying up together and giggling at a party, totally stoned, sharing a joint. But that was a few weeks after Mr Miller got kicked out. Again, far too late, it seems.’

‘So Miller ruined McClusky’s dreams, and McClusky, with the girls’ help, lost Miller his job,’ said Winsome. ‘But at the time he had no way of linking the two incidents: what he’d done to Kyle, and what Beth and Kayleigh were doing to him. But what about you? You say you were his friend. You knew. Or you found out later. What did you do with your knowledge? Why didn’t you help him? Why do you say it was too late?’

Lisa stared into the remains of her foamy coffee. ‘I was having problems of my own then. I wasn’t very clear about things.’

‘Drugs?’

‘No, it wasn’t drugs,’ Lisa snapped. ‘For crying out loud, you lot seem to think everyone’s problems are down to drugs. If you looked a bit closer, you’d see that some lives are actually improved by them, but that’s too much to expect of you, I suppose. It was... just life. That’s all. I was going through a bad time. A rough patch. You don’t need to know the details.’

Winsome held her hand up. ‘Sorry, Lisa. I have to ask these questions.’

‘Yeah, I suppose you do... but it just makes me so... If you want to know the truth, I don’t do drugs. Well, except for a little dope now and then. But no speed, no E, no crystal meth, no downers, coke or heroin. Never have. Not even acid. Don’t touch them. I was drinking and smoking too much, sure, but no other illegal drugs. And, no, I don’t care to explain or justify myself. So just move on, will you.’

‘OK. Did you ever tell Gavin Miller about what you’d overheard?’

‘No.’

‘Why not?’

‘What was the point? It was too late, like I said. They weren’t going to reopen the inquiry. It would only make him more bitter. Besides, it was after he left, moved away, and we’d lost touch. We didn’t see each other again, not until quite a while later when... you know, he phoned and asked me about the weed and all. I mean, we weren’t mates, we didn’t socialise or anything. I didn’t even know where he was living. And I was away a lot of the time.’

‘He sought you out?’

‘Yes.’

‘How did he get in touch?’

‘He phoned me on my mobile. This was ages after he got the sack, like, maybe three years or more. I’d left Eastvale for two years and come back and all that.’

‘Why you?’

‘When I was at college, when we had our little chats, he once talked about the old days and how they all used to smoke up and listen to the Grateful Dead or whoever and talk about enlightenment and the Tibetan Book of the Dead — like getting wasted wasn’t just a bit of fun for them, but part of some sort of deep spiritual search, and how all that had changed — and I laughed and told him, damn right, the people I smoked up with wouldn’t be caught dead doing anything like that. They just wanted to get stoned. He laughed with me. He wasn’t judgemental, and he obviously remembered that I was someone who might know where he could get hold of some hash or grass when he wanted it.’

‘How long ago was this?’

‘Less than a year. Spring.’

‘Did he say why he wanted it all of a sudden?’

‘No. We met in a coffee shop. Not this one. He told me he had a lot of time on his hands, and he’d been doing a lot of thinking about those old times he told me about, remembering, you know, what it was like back then, the music, the eastern religions and tarot cards and stuff. He sounded like he’d done it all before, but not for a long time. He said it had been years since he’d done anything like that. He wanted to try smoking a joint again and maybe dropping a tab of acid, and he asked if I could help him out.’

‘How did he seem?’

‘I don’t know. He seemed sort of defeated, a bit sad. Like his life didn’t have much meaning, and he was trying to lose himself in the past.’

‘Were you surprised by his request?’

‘Of course.’

‘Didn’t you suspect it was some kind of entrapment?’

‘No. Why should I? He was always good to me. He wouldn’t do that. He wasn’t a snitch. To be honest, he was also a bit of a deadbeat when we met, a bum, with the old clothes and straggly beard and all. Not that some of your undercover colleagues don’t do a pretty good job of looking like deadbeats, but there’s always the tell. Their shoes are too clean, or their teeth, or something. But Mr Miller was genuinely down on his luck. I honestly thought he just wanted to recapture something from his lost youth, or something like that.’

‘Like what?’

‘I don’t know. Maybe he’d had visions of angels and heavenly light or something. There was just something sort of... haunted... about him.’

‘Let’s get back to what you were saying before. What did you do to help Gavin Miller after you’d overheard Beth and Kayleigh admit they’d set him up?’

‘Best thing I could think of when I was together enough. I talked to his mate, didn’t I? Told him the whole story.’

‘Who? Jim Cooper?’

‘No. Not that useless pillock. Mr Lomax, the head of the department. He’d stuck up for Mr Miller before, at the hearing, or so Mr Miller told me. He said he’d see what he could do.’

‘And what happened?’

‘You know as well as I do. Fuck all happened. Kyle McClusky was gone. Mr Miller was gone. Beth and Kayleigh were graduating. The boat wasn’t rocking any more, and that’s the way everyone wanted to keep it. Including, I should imagine, Mr Trevor fucking Lomax.’

‘So it appears that the college disciplinary board sold Gavin Miller down the river,’ Winsome said in the Queen’s Arms that evening, after she had finished telling Banks and Annie about her meeting with Lisa Gray.

‘According to Lisa Gray,’ said Annie.

‘She’d no reason to lie.’

‘Everybody lies,’ said Banks.

‘More so if you cosy up to them,’ said Annie. ‘Then they think you’re their mate.’

‘But they also tell you far more than they ever would if you kept your distance,’ Banks argued. He had long been a proponent of the casual, chatty interview, leading the interviewee slowly through shared interests, opinions and small talk towards more pointed questions. True, it gave him more chaff and wheat to sort out, and it posed a few challenges when it came to discerning the truth, but in his experience people tended to clam up, or lie outright, when he came at them with a stiff and official approach. Not everyone agreed, of course, and Banks was also quite willing and able to use the harder method when he felt it was justified. The only thing you had to remember was that people lied no matter which approach you took.

‘I’m not saying that Lisa didn’t lie,’ Winsome said. ‘I think there’s a lot she didn’t tell me, and a lot she evaded. But I also think there’s a good deal of truth in what she said, that’s all. Remember, Trevor Lomax also seemed to think Gavin Miller had been ill-treated.’

‘Fair enough,’ said Banks. ‘No wonder the poor sod was bitter. This Lisa have an alibi?’

‘At home watching telly with her mates.’

‘Check it out, will you?’

‘Lomax didn’t do much to help the situation, though, did he?’ said Annie. ‘Not according to your Lisa. And he certainly didn’t tell me about her coming to see him.’

They sipped their drinks. Even Winsome was having a gin and tonic. She said she needed it after her meeting with Lisa Gray. ‘But it’s still the sort of break we’ve been looking for, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘Now we’ve got another possible suspect in Kyle McClusky. I know it’s a long time after the events at the college went down, but something could have put him and Gavin Miller in touch again — drugs, for example — and something could have flared up. McClusky shouldn’t be too hard to find. We’re going to have to talk to the girls, too.’

‘There was no record of calls to any of them on Miller’s mobile,’ Banks pointed out. ‘Not Kyle McClusky, not Beth, not Kayleigh.’

‘Maybe they were too careful for that.’

‘And as Annie said, there’s still Trevor Lomax,’ Winsome went on. ‘Lisa said she told him what she knew about Gavin Miller warning Kyle off, and what she overheard the girls talking about in the toilets, but he didn’t do anything. Maybe he was involved, too. Maybe he didn’t try to help Miller as much as he professed to do because something would come out about him?’

‘I suppose it’s possible,’ said Banks. ‘Maybe if Miller had actually reported Kyle McClusky — you know, officially — then things might have turned out differently. But the incident was well over by the time Lisa Gray knew and told Lomax about it, and I doubt very much that he wanted it all raking up again on the say-so of some young junky student friend of Miller’s. Imagine how well that would go down. They’d probably try and prove he was having it off with her, too.’

‘Lisa wasn’t a junky,’ said Winsome. ‘And she wasn’t “having it off” with Miller. I believe her on that score. She’s full of attitude, swears a lot, likes to sound tough, but she wasn’t a junky. She just said she had some personal problems. Besides, Lomax might have had other reasons for not doing anything.’

‘Like what?’ Annie asked.

‘I don’t know. Maybe something came up between Trevor Lomax and Gavin Miller? Maybe Miller only just found out that Lisa had been to see Lomax back then, that she had told him the truth and he had done nothing. Lisa said she didn’t tell Miller what she’d done, but maybe she’s not telling the complete truth about that. Maybe she told him shortly before he was killed. I don’t know for sure. All I know is that it’s given us a lot more to think about.’

Banks turned to Annie. ‘Maybe it’s time you and Winsome started to ruffle a few feathers at Eastvale College. Cooper. Lomax. Even that Dayle Snider woman. She might not work there, but she’s connected. Talk to the girls. Track down Kyle McClusky. Find out what Lisa Gray’s problems were. And someone should try to get in touch with the ex-wife in New Zealand. She might be able to tell us something.’

Annie made a note. ‘Where’s Gerry?’ she asked.

Banks glanced at his watch. ‘She should be here soon. The poor lass has been on the telephone and the Internet most of the day. She running down a few things for me.’

‘For you? What things?’ Annie asked. ‘Personal? Or is it something we should all know about?’

‘I honestly don’t know yet. Somebody else who might be lying. It depends on the answers.’

‘And then?’

‘Well, then,’ said Banks, ‘we’re either all back where we started, or we begin a new journey into the heart of darkness.’

‘You’re being a bit cryptic, aren’t you?’ Annie said. ‘Even for you.’

‘There’s something you’re not telling us, sir?’ Winsome prodded.

Banks sighed. ‘It might be nothing,’ he said, but he knew he had to tell them his concerns about Lady Veronica Chalmers.

It was after nine o’clock, and Banks was into his second glass of wine and Jesse Winchester’s first album when the doorbell rang. He put down the report on Lady Chalmers’ life he had been reading and went through to the front to answer it. When he got there, he found a very nervous Gerry Masterson standing on his doorstep in her jeans and woolly jumper, a scarf wrapped around her neck.

‘I’m sorry it’s so late, sir,’ she said. ‘But I thought I should come and report in person.’

Curious, Banks invited her to hang up the scarf by the door and led her through the little den and the kitchen into the conservatory. ‘Wine?’ he offered, brandishing the half-full bottle.

‘No, sir. Thanks. But I’m driving. A cup of tea would go down nicely, though. This is a nice place you’ve got, sir.’

‘I like it,’ said Banks. ‘Tea it is.’ He disappeared into the kitchen. The kettle boiled in no time, and he carried the teapot, mug and milk and sugar on a tray back to the conservatory. He also grabbed the packet of chocolate digestives on his way. Jesse Winchester was singing ‘Biloxi’, which Banks thought was such a beautiful song that it made you want to go there.

‘That’s lovely music, sir,’ Gerry said, leaning forward in her wicker chair. She had the CD jewel-case in her hand. ‘I can’t say I’ve ever heard of Jesse Winchester.’

‘Before your time,’ said Banks. ‘He was an American draft dodger who ended up in Canada. But I’m glad you like it. Now what brings you here at such an hour?’

‘The reason I’m so late is that I was waiting for a phone call from western Canada. They’re eight hours behind us.’

‘I never could get those time zones right,’ said Banks. ‘I always seem to get them the wrong way around and upset people. So what did you find out?’

‘Well, it wasn’t easy, sir. I mean, it was about thirty years ago, for a start. It’s hard to find the right people to talk to.’

‘But you managed, I gather? Milk? Sugar? Biscuit?’

Gerry accepted the tea and biscuit Banks handed her. ‘To cut a long story short, I managed to find out that Gavin Miller spent the years between 1979 and the end of 1982 teaching at a small college in a place called Nelson, British Columbia. It’s in the “interior”, apparently, or I think that’s what they called it. I assume that means it’s not on the coast. Anyway, the problem was that the college closed down in 1983, and the lecturers scattered to the four winds. That’s around the time Miller went back home to Banbury.’

‘So what about his travels around the US? Hanging out with the Grateful Dead, following Jack Kerouac’s trail?’

‘Tall stories,’ said Gerry. ‘He was teaching at the college year round. I’m sure he got a few weeks off now and then, though, and he may have travelled in the States if he made enough money — I really can’t seem to get anywhere with US Immigration on that — but most of the time he was working in the interior of British Columbia, Canada.’

‘I see,’ said Banks. ‘So I also assume it’s unlikely that he mixed with Lady Chalmers and her crowd in Beverley Hills?’

‘Extremely doubtful. Their time in North America overlapped, yes, but they would have moved in very different social circles, and so far there’s no evidence of his ever visiting California. It’s quite a long way. The thing is, though, and the real reason I came to see you in person rather than just phoning, is that I found out something else. Something that might be much more important.’ She put her mug down on the table and clasped her hands on her knees. Banks could see the excitement in her flushed face and glittering eyes. ‘Remember when I told you Veronica Chalmers’ age, and you were shocked because you thought she was much younger?’

Banks nodded.

‘And then you said it might be important. Well, it is. You were right in your suspicions. Gavin Miller and Veronica Chalmers were exact contemporaries at the University of Essex.’

‘Bingo,’ said Banks.

‘I got one of the admin assistants to dig back through the records. We’ve struck it lucky. Both Veronica Bellamy, as she was then, and Gavin Miller were students at the University of Essex between 1971 and 1974.’

‘How many students were there at that time?’

‘Around two thousand.’

‘That’s not very many. She said she didn’t know him, that she’d never talked to him before, but if they were exact contemporaries... Miller was visiting a lot of websites tracking down early seventies stuff — albums, movies, books and so on. On a nostalgia fishing trip. What if Veronica Bellamy was part of that? Part of that lost time he wanted to recapture? He even started smoking cannabis again. Did they know one another?’

Gerry seemed disappointed. ‘That I can’t say, sir. I’m going to have to dig a bit deeper for that. The admin assistant wasn’t around back then. I do know that Veronica studied History and Politics, and Gavin took English literature, so they probably weren’t in the same classes, though they may have had subsidiary subjects that overlapped. And uni is as much about social life and clubs and stuff as it is about learning. At least that’s my recollection of it. It’s certainly possible their paths crossed.’

‘You’re right. But we need more than that. Is there any way you can check whether they did meet? You know, whether they were members of the same clubs, societies, that sort of thing? I still don’t believe she’s telling us the full story.’

‘I should be able to get class lists easily enough. Maybe even society membership details.’

‘It’s a start.’

‘From there, I might be able to track down somebody who actually knew Veronica Bellamy or Gavin Miller back then, or knows someone who did. But remember, sir, it was forty years ago. Is it worth it? I mean, do we take Lady Veronica Chalmers seriously as a suspect? Might we not be just be wasting our time? And looking for trouble?’

‘We won’t know that until we’ve followed all the leads, Gerry,’ said Banks. ‘At the moment I’m curious to know where she stands in all this. I certainly think there’s more of a connection between her and Gavin Miller than she’s saying. That phone call explanation doesn’t ring true at all. Or the alumni business. What did you find out about Miller’s links with alumni affairs?’

‘He didn’t have any, sir. I spoke to the director of the alumni and development team, and she’s never heard of him. He wasn’t on any of the lists they had, either of donors or fundraisers. And Lady Chalmers, as she told you, is already a generous donor.’

‘Interesting,’ said Banks. ‘Why should she want to lie about it?’

‘I don’t know, sir, but I did find out one thing. They have Lady Chalmers’ ex-directory number at Essex, and one of the junior people in the alumni office gave it to Miller. He sounded legit. Said they were old friends and he’d lost touch and needed to contact her about an informal reunion of some kind. Sounds a bit thin to me, but she took pity on him. I suppose some people just want to be helpful, like that nurse who told the press about Kate Middleton’s condition and then committed suicide. She was thorough, though, the woman in the alumni office. She checked out his connection with the university and everything, discovered the two of them were there at the same time before she rang back to give him the number.’

‘Well, that’s one mystery solved,’ said Banks.

‘But what possible involvement could Lady Chalmers have, sir?’

‘None that I can think of. But that doesn’t make her much different from any of the other suspects we might have in this case. The same goes for alibis. They’re all flimsy.’ Banks sipped some wine and let the music wander in his mind for a few moments while he thought things over. Gerry seemed on edge, anxious to leave now that she had delivered her news. ‘Look,’ said Banks finally, ‘I understand your concerns, and I’m honestly not sure myself how, or how far, we should proceed with this. But putting aside the fact that we’re talking about a “Lady” who lives in The Heights and knows the chief constable, Veronica Chalmers is clearly lying about the reason for that telephone call. She went to the same university at exactly the same time as Miller. That’s three years they had to make one another’s acquaintance, among a student population of around two thousand. I can’t believe they weren’t aware of one another. Their times in the States overlapped, even though we think it unlikely they met there, and they both lived in Eastvale for three years when Miller was teaching at the college, even though their social circles would have been worlds apart. I don’t know about you, but that’s too many coincidences for me. Lady Chalmers certainly merits another visit.’ Banks paused. ‘Have you entered all this into the system?’

‘The telephone numbers on Gavin Miller’s mobile, the university details. I had to, sir. It’s—’

Banks waved her down. ‘It’s all right. I’m not criticising. You’re absolutely right to do so. In fact, I’m the one in serious breach for not writing up the visit I paid her this morning. But let me worry about that. The next visit will be a lot more official, and I’ll take DI Cabbot with me. That’s not a reflection on you at all, Gerry, in case you’re wondering. Your work on this so far has been sterling, but... well, let’s just say there might be repercussions. What I’d like you to do, as discreetly as possible, but with full openness in terms of gathering and entering information — in other words, by the book, under my instructions — is to continue your investigation into Lady Chalmers in general, and the Essex years in particular. If there is a connection, find it. Let’s not forget, Liam told me that Gavin Miller had been doing a lot of computer research into the early seventies in the days or weeks before he died. Winsome also said that Lisa Gray told her Miller was nostalgic about old times, haunted, as if he were searching for his lost youth. Maybe Veronica Bellamy was a part of that. It’s a line of inquiry we can’t afford to overlook. But it’s delicate. Tread carefully.’

‘What if I have to go to Colchester?’

‘Go where you need, within reason. Just keep me posted where you are and what you find out.’

‘Of course, sir.’

‘Gavin Miller is turning into a far more interesting and complicated person than I ever imagined when this business started,’ Banks said. ‘By the way, does Lady Chalmers have anything to do with Eastvale College?’

‘I don’t know, sir, but I’ll look into it.’

‘And have any of the people we’ve talked to already, or even Miller himself, ever had anything to do with Sir Jeremy Chalmers? After all, there are plenty of artsy types involved, and he’s in the theatre world. It’s not beyond belief.’

‘Again, I’ll see if I can find anything.’

Banks saw Gerry to the door, then settled down with his wine again. Jesse Winchester was singing ‘Yankee Lady’, and the case was beginning to get very interesting.