Peter Robinson - Not Safe After Dark

‘Just getting to that. During proceedings, it came out that Geoff Salisbury had persuaded the woman to invest in a non-existent business venture of his. A garage.’

‘Ah-hah.’

‘Again, it wasn’t much. Only two hundred quid.’

‘Doesn’t matter,’ said Banks. ‘Is a man who preys on the poor any less guilty than one who preys on the rich?’

‘I’m afraid that’s a bit too philosophical for me at this time on a Sunday evening, but at a guess I’d say even more so, wouldn’t you?’

‘I would. Thanks a lot, Annie. Above and beyond, and all that.’

‘Oh, that’s not all.’

‘Really?’

‘Really. While all this was going on, Mr Salisbury’s mother died. Well, she was old and-’

‘Sick?’

‘How did you guess? She had diabetes. Anyway, she died. Or-’

Banks felt a tingle go up his spine. ‘Or what?’

‘Or he helped her on her way. Nothing was ever proven. There weren’t even any charges. But DS Ryan was one of the investigating officers, and he says he was suspicious enough to ask for an autopsy. Negative. The woman was old, she went hypoglycaemic, and that was that.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Hypoglycaemic? It’s something that happens to diabetics, apparently, caused by too much insulin or low food intake.’

‘He gave her an overdose of insulin?’

‘No evidence of that.’

‘But someone could have brought it about, this hypoglycaemic coma?’

‘Yes. Hard to prove, though.’

‘What did DS Ryan say?’

‘DS Ryan said that his older sister is a diabetic and she always keeps her bedside drawer full of Mars bars or chocolate of some kind for just that sort of eventuality.’

‘But I thought diabetics had to avoid sugar like the plague?’

‘So did I. Apparently, they do. Unless they go hypoglycaemic. Then they need a hit of sugar.’

‘Or?’

‘Coma. Death. And in this case there were other complications. Weak heart, for example.’

‘And DS Ryan says?’

‘DS Ryan says the doctor didn’t find any traces of sugar products close to Mrs Salisbury’s bed, and he found that in itself suspicious. In his opinion – DS Ryan’s, that is – Geoff Salisbury was responsible, knowing it was just a matter of time before she’d need a sugar fix.’

‘He killed his own mother. Is that what you’re saying?’

‘Mercy killing, but killing all the same.’

‘Bloody hell,’ said Banks. ‘This changes things.’

‘It does?’

‘I’d been thinking of leaving well alone.’

‘But not now?’

‘Not now. Thanks a lot, Annie.’

‘My pleasure. See you tomorrow?’

‘OK. And thanks again.’

Missing Mars bars. A faulty oxygen-tank valve. Banks wondered who else Geoff Salisbury had assisted in their final moments on earth. He also wondered how long it would be before his own father suffered that fatal angina attack and was unable to find his nitroglycerine tablets in time. Putting his phone in his pocket, he headed straight for Geoff Salisbury’s house.

‘Look, I can see you’re not going to let this drop, are you?’ said Salisbury when Banks had told him he knew about the conviction. ‘So I’ve been to prison. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I served my time.’

‘As a matter of fact,’ said Banks, ‘it is something to be ashamed of. But those who’ve been there rarely seem to think so. Innocent, were you, like everyone else?’

‘No. I did it. I was desperate and she didn’t need the money, so I conned her. I’m not saying I’m proud of that , what I did, but like I said, I served my time, paid my debt to society.’

Debt to society . Roy’s words exactly and an odd phrase when you really thought about it. ‘Would that it were as simple as that,’ Banks said. Salisbury’s living room wasn’t quite as clean and tidy as he had expected, but perhaps he used all his energy on other people’s homes and had none left for his own. Dust gathered in the corners, the carpet was threadbare and lumps of mould floated on the half-empty coffee cup on the table.

‘All right,’ said Salisbury, ‘suppose, just suppose that I was ripping people off. Some people might actually believe I’m a power for good around here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘An estate like this, the old folks need someone on their side, someone to look out for them. They die off, you see, and when they do it’s mostly young ’uns come in off the waiting list. You know the sort. Young lasses barely out of school with three kids and no father in sight. Or that lot next door to your mum and dad’s. Scum. Now you’re a copper, Alan, you tell me if he doesn’t have prison written all over him. And as for the kids, well, it’ll only be a matter of time. And if it’s not scum like that it’s foreigners. Gyppos. Darkies. Pakis. Them with the turbans. All with their funny ways, slaughtering goats in the street and whatever, not giving a toss for our customs and traditions and way of life. See, the old folks, they get frightened when everything around them starts to feel threatening and unfamiliar . Their world’s changing so fast and their bodies can’t do what they used to do, so they end up feeling lost and scared. That’s where someone like me comes in. I reassure them, do odd jobs, give them a friendly and familiar face to relate to. So what if I make a few bob out of it? Hypothetically.’

‘I’d say, hypothetically, that it makes you a thief.’

‘Words, Alan, just words.’

‘Actually, no. Legal concepts.’

‘Well, you would say that, wouldn’t you?’

‘Here’s another one to try on for size. Murder .’

Salisbury blinked and stared at him. ‘What?’

‘You heard me, Geoff. Oh, you might have a more fancy name for it, something high-sounding and moral, such as mercy killing, but in my eyes it’s murder plain and simple.’

Salisbury sat back in his chair. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Oh, I think you do. There was your own mother for a start. Don’t tell me a woman who’s been a diabetic for a good part of her life doesn’t know to keep some sugar on hand in case she goes hypoglycaemic.’

Salisbury banged his fist on the chair arm. ‘That’s over and done with,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t there. Nobody ever proved anything against me!’

‘I’m not saying you haven’t been clever, Geoff. You never were there, were you? Mr Green’s faulty valve, for example. Wouldn’t be difficult for a car mechanic, would it? And what about Mrs Summerville, Geoff, gentle pillow over the face as she slept, was it? Nobody would ask too many questions. Or perhaps a little too much morphine? She was alone. You had a key. They always give you a key, don’t they? And what about the hundred quid you drew out with her bank card the day she died. Mistake, that. She couldn’t get it herself, remember – she was bedridden – and her daughter could find no sign of the money.’

Salisbury got to his feet. ‘You can’t prove a damn thing. Get out of here! Go on, get out!’

Banks didn’t move. ‘You don’t get away with it that easily, Geoff, especially not when it’s my parents you’re playing with now. I saw the piece of silver paper you folded and dropped in the bin at Mrs Summerville’s house. I’ll bet it has your prints on it.’

‘So I went there. I helped her. Like I helped the others. So what? That doesn’t prove anything.’

‘I’ll bet if we exhumed the body, though, we’d find some evidence of tampering, some evidence of what you did. She hasn’t been dead as long as the others, Geoff. There’ll be forensic evidence. In the house, too.’

For the first time, Banks saw Salisbury falter and sit down again. He knew he had been guessing, taking a stab in the dark, but it seemed to have touched a nerve. ‘She had cancer and a weak heart,’ Banks went on. ‘All it took was a little pressure. She didn’t even have the strength to fight back, did she?’