Peter Robinson: Close To Home (aka The Summer That Never Was)

Marshall just glared at Banks. A little drool slid down his stubbly chin.

“Fiorino had no use for the law, either, unless it was in his pay, so he used other people to do his dirty work. Shortly after the killing, Bradford sold up and moved out. Fiorino didn’t like that. Didn’t like people escaping his control, being out of his line of sight. Especially if they knew as much as Bradford did and were fast becoming unstable and unreliable. Bradford was guilt-ridden by what he had done. Also, I think he took some of Fiorino’s goods with him, though that’s just a minor matter. What really counted was that Bradford was out of sight and untrustworthy. And he knew too much.”

Marshall still showed no reaction. Banks could hear muffled voices from the kitchen. “So what does he do when he has a problem with Bradford? Well, he could pay for a hit, I suppose, and that’s one option. But he knows you. That’s an easier one. He knows that whatever you do, you’ll do it yourself, you won’t go running to the police. So he tells you that Bradford killed your son, though not on his orders. He convinces you that Bradford was a pervert. He also gives you Bradford’s address. Easy. All he had to do next was leave the rest up to you. Am I right so far, Bill?”

Banks could tell by the anger and hatred in Bill Marshall’s eyes that he was right. “You went up to Carlisle, didn’t you? Probably told everyone you were looking for work. Then you broke into Donald Bradford’s flat and waited for him to come home. You knew Bradford was a tough customer, so you attacked him from behind with a cosh. I don’t blame you, Bill. The man murdered your son. I’d want to do the same to anyone who harmed either of my children. But you let your wife suffer all those years. You knew Graham was dead and you knew who killed him. Maybe you didn’t know where the body was, but I’ll bet you could have found out. Instead, you went up there and murdered Bradford and said nothing to your wife or your daughter. All these years they’ve lived not knowing what happened to Graham. That’s unforgivable, Bill.” Banks nodded toward the pad. “What do you have to say about that? Come on, tell me something.”

Marshall held his gaze for a while, then grasped the pencil, moved his hand with difficulty and scrawled on the pad. When he had done, he handed it to Banks. There were three words in capital letters: FUCK OFF COPPER.

“He came to me, like you said,” Lauren Anderson began. “He was in a terrible state. He was upset because… well, you know why. I tried to calm him down and we went to… We just lay down on the bed together and I held him. I’d already realized I had to end it. I just hadn’t been able to find the courage. But I knew that it couldn’t go on. Someone would find out eventually, and that would be it. My career, reputation… everything. A fifteen-year-old boy and a twenty-nine-year-old woman. Taboo. I thought I’d got him calm enough, so I started talking about it, you know, how we should probably cool things for a while.”

“Did he tell you he’d been smoking cannabis earlier?”

“Cannabis? No. He never told me that. But that must be why he seemed so disoriented and excitable. I’d never seen him like that before. He scared me.”

“How did he react when you told him you wanted to finish the affair?” Annie asked, remembering that it hadn’t been too long ago when she had told Banks the same thing.

“He didn’t want to accept it. He said he couldn’t bear to lose me.” Lauren started crying. “He said he’d kill himself.”

“What happened next?”

She dabbed her eyes with a tissue. “He stormed off to the bathroom. I gave him a couple of minutes, then I heard all the things falling out of the cupboard into the sink, glass breaking, so I went after him.”

“Was the bathroom door locked?”

“No.”

“He was after the Valium?”

“You know?”

“We know he took some Valium shortly before he died, yes.”

“I have a prescription. But I suppose you know that, too?”

Annie nodded. “I checked.”

“He had the bottle open, and he poured some tablets into his hand and swallowed them. I went to him and struggled with him over the bottle. We fought, pulling and pushing each other, and then he went down. Just like that. He was in his socks, and the floor tiles can be slippery. His feet just went from under him and he hit his head on the side of the bath. I did what I could. I tried to revive him, mouth to mouth. I checked for a pulse and listened for his heartbeat, and then I even tried holding a mirror to his mouth. But it was no use. He was dead. So much blood.”

“What did you do then?”

“I didn’t know what to do. I panicked. I knew if any of it came out I’d be finished. I didn’t know where to turn, so I called Vernon. He said he’d come right away and not to do anything until he got here. The rest you know.”

“What happened to Luke’s mobile?”

“It fell out of his pocket in the car. Vernon took it.”

That explained the call to Armitage’s mobile. Vernon had looked up Martin Armitage’s number on Luke’s phone. He wasn’t to know that Luke would be unlikely to call his stepfather for anything. He could easily have driven to Eastvale to make the call and avoid suspicion. It wasn’t far.

“ Did you know about the ransom demand?”

Lauren shook her head. “No. I’d never agree to anything like that. And as I said, I was too upset to think about it. If anything, I thought it must be some sort of cruel practical joke. I’m so sorry for what happened.” She reached out and grasped Annie’s wrist. “You’ve got to believe me. I’d never have harmed Luke. I loved him. Maybe if I hadn’t been so insensitive, so selfish, and not tried to end it when he was so upset, or just held him the way he wanted, it might not have happened. I’ve relived that moment over and over again. I can’t sleep. I don’t know how I’m going to go back to work. Nothing seems to matter anymore.”

Annie stood up.

“What are you going to do now?”

“I’m going to call in my partner from the car outside, and we’re going to make sure you know your rights before we take you to the police station to make a formal statement. We’ll also be sending a message to the Harrogate police to pick up your brother.”

“What’s going to happen to me?”

“I don’t know, Lauren,” Annie said. Again, she was feeling shitty about doing her job. Harden up, she told herself. Maybe Lauren Anderson didn’t deliberately kill Luke, but she was at least partly responsible for his death, along with Liz Palmer and Ryan Milne. All adults who should have known better than to tamper with the feelings of a confused and disturbed fifteen-year-old. All of whom were selfish and used Luke for their own ends. Even if that end, at least in Lauren’s case, was love. A romantic imagination and adolescent lust could be a dangerous combination.

But maybe, Annie thought, if she didn’t feel pity for a woman in Lauren’s position, then she would lose some of her humanity. One of the things working with Banks had taught her was how to do the job without becoming callous and cynical, the way she had been going before she met him. Lauren would probably get off quite lightly, Annie told herself. If Luke had died during a struggle, the object of which was to stop him from taking an overdose of Valium, and if Lauren had not known of her brother’s botched ransom demand, then she wouldn’t get a very stiff sentence.

Lauren would lose her job, though, and, like Norman Wells, she would become a pariah for some – the seductress and corrupter of youth. And the family would suffer – Robin and Martin – as it was all dragged into the open. Because this would be a high-profile trial, no doubt about it. Neil Byrd’s son, a famous model and a sports star. Not a chance of escaping the media circus. It was a damn shame they couldn’t prosecute Liz and Ryan, Annie thought as she walked Lauren, head hung low, out to the car. They were at least as much to blame for what happened as Lauren was, if not more so. But it wasn’t her judgment to make.