Peter Robinson - Cold Is The Grave

“No. One day everything seemed fine, the next she packed her stuff – what little she had – and she was gone before I got home. I had a wedding to shoot that day. My first, and it was a big deal. When I got home, all I found was a note. I remember it word for word.” He closed his eyes. “‘Sorry, Craig, it’s just not working out. You’re sweet lad. Maybe see you around. Hugs and Kisses, Louisa.’ That was it.”

“You had no idea at all what was going on? That she’d met someone else?”

“Not at the time, no. But the bloke’s often the last to find out, isn’t he?”

“Had you been arguing?”

“Yeah, but that was par for the course with Louisa.”

“You argued a lot?”

“A fair bit.”

“What about?”

“Oh, the usual stuff. She was bored. Our life lacked glamour and excitement. She wanted to go places more. She said I wasn’t paying enough attention to her, that I was taking her for granted.”

“Was it true?”

“Maybe. Some of it. I was working a lot, getting paying jobs, like that wedding. I suppose I was probably spending more time in the darkroom than I was with her. And I didn’t know where she was half the time. I mean, we’d only been living together a month or so. It wasn’t as if we were an old married couple, or something.”

“She went out alone a lot?”

“She said she was out with her mates. Sometimes she didn’t come back till two or three in the morning. Said she’d been clubbing. Well, you don’t hold on to a girl like Louisa by clipping her wings, so there wasn’t a lot I could do about it. It got me down a bit, though.”

“Did you know any of her friends?”

“Only Ruth. She introduced us.”

“Ruth?”

“Yeah. Ruth Walker.”

“How did she know Louisa?”

“Dunno. But Ruth’s always taking in strays. Heart of gold, she’s got. Do anything for you. Louisa was staying with her when we met. I’ve known Ruth since I was at college. She was doing a computer course at the university, and she helped me out with some digital photography software. We got to be friends. I’d go see her once in a while, you know, take her down to the pub or out to see a movie or a band or something – she’s really into the live-music scene – and one time I went, there was Louisa, sitting on her sofa. I won’t say it was love at first sight, but it was definitely something .”

Lust, no doubt, thought Banks. “Were you and Ruth lovers?”

“Ruth and me? Nah. Nothing like that. We were just friends.”

The food came – balti prawns for Craig and lamb korma for Banks, along with pullao rice, mango chutney and naans – and they paused as they shared out the dishes. The ubiquitous sitar music droned in the background.

“Okay,” said Banks after a few bites to stay the rumbling of his stomach. “What happened next?”

“Well, Ruth had got Louisa a job at the same company she worked for out Canary Wharf way. Nothing much, just fetching and carrying, really. Louisa didn’t have any great job skills. But it brought in a quid or two, helped get her on her feet.”

“Did Louisa talk much about her past?”

“Only to put it down. Sounds as if you gave her a pretty rough time. Sorry, but you asked.”

“I suppose I did.” Banks tasted the lamb. It was a bit too greasy, but it would do. He soaked up some sauce with his naan.

“Anyway,” Craig went on, “she didn’t last long there. Didn’t seem to take to office work at all, as a matter of fact. Or any work, for that matter.”

“Why was that?”

“I think it was mostly her attitude. Louisa thinks other people are there to work for her, not the other way around. And she’s got attitude with a capital A .”

“How did she survive after that?”

“She had a few quid of her own in the bank. She never said how much, but she never seemed to go short. Sometimes she borrowed off Ruth or me. She could go through money like nobody’s business, could Louisa.”

“And the new boyfriend?”

Craig nodded. “If he’s the sort of bloke who can afford minders, then he’s probably not short of a few quid, is he? Gone up in the world, she had, young Louisa.”

That’s right, Banks thought. And if he’s the sort of bloke who needs minders, then the odds are that he makes his money in a dodgy way, a way that could make him enemies who want to do him physical harm, a way that could also put Emily in jeopardy. The more Banks heard, the more worried about her he became. “Are you sure you’ve got no idea who he is, where I can find them?”

“Sorry. If I knew, I’d tell you. Believe me.”

“Do you think Ruth Walker might know?”

“It’s possible. She wouldn’t tell me when I asked her, but I think Louisa must have told her I was obsessed with her, stalking her or something.”

“Were you?”

“Course not.”

“Then what makes you think that?”

“Just the way she looked at me. We haven’t been quite the same since that whole thing with Louisa, Ruth and me. But she might tell you.”

Banks shrugged. “It’s worth a try.”

Craig gave him the address of Ruth’s flat in Kennington. “You know, I really liked Louisa,” he mused. “Maybe I loved her… I don’t know. She was pretty wild, and her mood swings… well… all I can say is she could make one of those divas look stable. But I liked her. Still, maybe I’m better off without her. At least I can concentrate on my work now, and I need to do that. Lord knows, she ran me ragged. But for a while there, when she’d first gone, there was a big hole in my life. I know it sounds corny, but I’d no energy, no real will to go on. The world didn’t look the same. Not as bright. Not as interesting. Gray.”

Welcome to reality, thought Banks. He had come prepared to be hard on Craig Newton – after all, Craig had taken the nude photographs of Emily that had ended up on the GlamourPuss Web site for every pervert to drool over – but the lad was actually turning out to be quite likable. If Craig was to be believed, he had genuinely thought that Emily was nineteen – and who wouldn’t, going by the evidence Banks had seen and heard so far – and the Web photos had simply been a foolish lark. Craig also seemed to care about Emily – he hadn’t only been with her for the sex, or whatever else a sixteen-year-old girl had to offer a twenty-seven-year-old man – and that went a long way in Bank’s estimation.

On the other hand, this new boyfriend sounded like trouble, and Emily Louise Riddle herself sounded like a royal pain in the arse.

“Why did you move out here?” Banks asked. “Because of Louisa?”

“Partly. It was around that time. It’s funny, but I’d mentioned getting out of London a couple of times and Louisa went all cold on me, the way she did when she wasn’t getting her own way or heard something she didn’t like. Anyway, I got the chance of a partnership in a small studio here with a bloke I went to college with. A straight-up, legit business this time – portraits and weddings, mostly. No porn. I was fed up of London by then, anyway. Not just the thing with Louisa, but other things. Too expensive. Too hard to make a living. Too much competition. The hours I was putting in. You’ve really got to hustle hard there, and I was discovering I’m not much of a hustler at heart. I began to think I’d be better off as a bigger fish in a smaller pond.”

“And?”

He looked up from his prawns and smiled. “It seems to be working out.” Then he paused. “This is weird, though. I never thought I’d be sitting down having a curry with Louisa’s dad, chatting in a civilized manner. I’ve got to say, you’re not at all what I imagined.”

“So you said. A boring old fart.”