Peter Robinson - Not Safe After Dark

‘Where are you going, John?’ Banks asked.

‘I can’t stay here, can I? I mean, it’s not my house, for a start, and… the memories.’

‘Where are you going?’

He picked up the case. ‘I don’t know. Just away from here, that’s all.’

‘I don’t think so.’ Gently, Banks took the case from him and set it down. ‘We haven’t got to the bottom of this yet.’

‘What do you mean? For Christ’s sake, man!’

‘You’d better come with me, John.’

‘Where?’

‘Police station. We’ll have a chat there.’

Billings stared angrily at him, then seemed to fold. ‘Oh, what the hell,’ he muttered. ‘What does it matter?’ And he picked his coat off the rack and followed Banks. He didn’t see DS Philip Richmond watching from the window of the cafe over the road.

It was after seven o’clock, dark, cold and windy outside. Banks decided to wait in the bedroom, on the chair wedged in the corner between the wardrobe and the dressing table. From there, with the door open, he could see the staircase, and he would be able to hear any sounds in the house.

He had just managed to get the item on the local news show at six o’clock, only minutes after Dr Glendenning had phoned with more detailed information: ‘Poison suspected in death of Eastvale woman. Police baffled. No suspects as yet.’ Of course, the killer might not have seen it, or might have already covered his tracks, but if Anna Childers had been poisoned, and Glendenning now seemed certain she had, then the answer had to be here.

Given possible reaction times, Glendenning had said in his late afternoon phone call, there was little chance she could have taken the poison into her system before eight o’clock the previous evening, at which time she had gone out to dine with John Billings.

The house was dark and silent save for the ticking of a clock on the bedside table and the howling wind rattling the window. Eight o’clock. Nine. Nothing happened except Banks got cramp in his left calf. He massaged it, then stood up at regular intervals and stretched. He thought of DS Richmond down the street in the unmarked car. Between them, they’d be sure to catch anyone who came.

Finally, close to ten o’clock, he heard it, a scraping at the lock on the front door. He drew himself deep into the chair, melted into the darkness and held his breath. The door opened and closed softly. He could see a torch beam sweeping the wall by the staircase, coming closer. The intruder was coming straight up the stairs. Damn! Banks hadn’t expected that. He wanted whoever it was to lead him to the poison, not walk right into him.

He sat rigid in the chair as the beam played over the threshold of the bedroom, mercifully not falling on him in his dark corner. The intruder didn’t hesitate. He walked around the bed, within inches of Banks’s feet, and over to the bedside table. Shining his torch, he opened the top drawer and picked something up. At that moment Banks turned on the light. The figure turned sharply, then froze.

‘Hello, Owen,’ said Banks. ‘What brings you here?’

‘If it was anyone, it had to be either you or him, John,’ Banks said later back in his office, while Owen Doughton was being charged downstairs. ‘Only the two of you were intimate enough with Anna to know her habits, her routines. And Owen had lived with her until quite recently. There was a chance he still had a key.’

John Billings shook his head. ‘I thought you were arresting me .’

‘It was touch and go, I won’t deny it. But at least I thought I’d give you a chance, the benefit of the doubt.’

‘And if your trap hadn’t worked?’

Banks shrugged. ‘Down to you, I suppose. The poison could have been anywhere, in anything. Toothpaste, for example. I knew if it wasn’t you, and the killer heard the news, he’d try to destroy any remaining evidence. He wouldn’t have had a chance to do so yet because you were in the house.’

‘But I was at the hospital nearly all yesterday.’

‘Too soon. He had no idea anything had happened at that time. This wasn’t a carefully calculated plan.’

‘But why?’

Banks shook his head. ‘That I can’t say for certain. He’s a sick man, an obsessed man. It’s my guess it was his warped form of revenge. It had been eating away at him for some time. Anna didn’t treat him very well, John. She didn’t really stop to take his feelings into account when she kicked him out and took up with you. She just assumed he would understand, like he always had, because he loved her and had her welfare at heart. He was deeply hurt, but he wasn’t the kind to make a fuss or let his feelings show. He kept it all bottled up.’

‘She could be a bit blinkered, could Anna,’ John mumbled. ‘She was a very focused woman.’

‘Yes. And I’m sure Doughton felt humiliated when she dumped him and turned to you. After all, he didn’t have much of a financial future, unlike you.’

‘But it wasn’t that, not with Anna,’ Billings protested. ‘We just had so much in common. Goals, tastes, ambitions. She and Owen had nothing in common any more.’

‘You’re probably right,’ Banks said. ‘Anyway, when she told him a couple of weeks ago that she was going to get married to you, it was the last straw. He said she expected him to be happy for her.’

‘But why did he keep on seeing her if it hurt him so much?’

‘He was still in love with her. It was better seeing her, even under those circumstances, than not at all.’

‘Then why kill her?’

Banks looked at Billings. ‘Love and hate, John,’ he said. ‘They’re not so far apart. Besides, he doesn’t believe he did kill her, that wasn’t really his intention at all.’

‘I don’t understand. You said he did. How did he do it?’

Banks paused and lit a cigarette. This wasn’t going to be easy. Rain blew against the window and a draught rattled the Venetian blind.

‘How?’ Billings repeated.

Banks looked at his calendar, trying to put off the moment; it showed a woodland scene, snowdrops blooming near The Strid at Bolton Abbey. He cleared his throat. ‘Owen came to the house while you were both out,’ Banks began. ‘He brought a syringe loaded with a strong pesticide he got from the garden centre. Remember, he knew Anna intimately. Did you and Anna make love that night, John?’

Billings reddened. ‘For Christ’s sake-’

‘I’m not asking whether the earth moved, I’m just asking if you did. Believe me, it’s relevant.’

‘All right,’ said Billings after a pause. ‘Yes, we did, as a matter of fact.’

‘Owen knew Anna well enough to know that she was frightened of getting pregnant,’ Banks went on, ‘but she wouldn’t take the pill because of the side effects. He knew she insisted on condoms, and he knew she liked to make love in the dark. It was easy enough to insert the needle into a couple of packages and squirt in some pesticide. Not much, but it’s very powerful stuff, colourless and odourless, so even an infinitesimal coating would have some effect. The condoms were lubricated, so they’d feel oily anyway, and nobody would notice a tiny pinprick in the package. You absorbed a little into your system, too, and that’s why you felt ill. You see, it’s easily absorbed through skin or membranes. But Anna got the lion’s share. Dr Glendenning would have found out eventually how the poison was administered from tissue samples, but further tests would have taken time. Owen could easily have nipped back to the house and removed the evidence by then. Or we might have decided that you had better access to the method.’

Billings paled. ‘You mean it could just as easily have been me either killed or arrested for murder?’