Peter Robinson - Children of the Revolution

Winsome gestured towards the film collection. ‘You know any of these, sir? You’ve watched them?’

‘I’ve watched some of them, yes,’ said Banks. ‘I’m quite partial to a bit of Mizoguchi and Chabrol every now and then. Can’t say I know them all, though.’

‘But does any of it mean anything?’ Winsome asked. ‘I mean, as far as the investigation is concerned?’

‘The films? I don’t know,’ said Banks. ‘But I doubt it very much. They just happen to be the sort of thing that Gavin Miller liked, along with the books. He was clearly a bit of an artsy type. I suppose they could just as easily have been Rogers and Hammerstein musicals or Disney cartoons. I’m just trying to get a feel for him, really, Winsome, work out what sort of bloke he was, whether he was the type to commit suicide — if there is a type — where he might have got five thousand quid, what he might have been intending to do with it. Now the sixties vinyl, that might mean something. There could be a drug connection. The Grateful Dead were involved in the early acid tests, and their followers are well known for taking psychedelics. LSD especially.’

‘Maybe it was all about drugs, then,’ Winsome said. ‘The money in his pocket and all. I mean, there’s no suicide note, not one that we’ve found yet anyway.’

‘Not every suicide leaves a note. And if he was doing a drug deal, and if someone robbed him of his stash, why didn’t the killer go down the embankment to the track and take back his money? Five grand’s a fair whack of cash to just leave behind. I can’t imagine any dealer, or buyer, doing that.’

‘Dunno, sir. Maybe he thought he heard someone coming and scarpered? Or he saw that Miller was dead and didn’t want to risk leaving any more forensic evidence?’

‘Possible. Though PC Kirwan says the track is hardly ever used, especially at this time of year, and at night. Anyway, it’s just an angle to consider.’

Banks poked through some of the drawers and found, behind a pile of cassette tapes, an old Golden Virginia tobacco tin. When he opened it, he saw a packet of red Rizla cigarette papers, some silver paper wrapped around about a quarter of an ounce of a sandy coloured, crumbly substance, which smelled suspiciously like hash. Also, in a plastic bag, were two small blue tablets, unmarked.

‘It looks as if we’ve found the drugs,’ Winsome said.

‘OK,’ Banks said, handing her the tin. ‘I’m heading back to the station. Madame Gervaise will want an update. You stick with Stefan and his mob while they do a proper search of this place. Give them this to get analysed and let them know that drugs may be on the agenda. There may be more hidden away. They’ll know the usual places to search. I’ll set Gerry Masterson on finding out all she can about Mr Gavin Miller. I want his life story. Cradle to grave.’

‘So let me get this straight,’ Area Commander Catherine Gervaise said. ‘You don’t know whether Gavin Miller was a suicide, a perpetrator who ended up being a victim, or the intended victim from the start?’

‘No,’ Banks admitted. ‘How could we? We need to know a lot more about him, his background, what made him tick, any reasons he might have had for wanting to end it all. DC Masterson’s working on it now.’

‘But you don’t even know whether he was buying or selling drugs, whether any transaction had been carried out or not?’

‘That’s right. All we know is that he’s dead under suspicious circumstances, there were drugs in his house, and he had five thousand pounds in his pocket.’

‘And you don’t know whether he was deliberately killed or died as the result of a fight? Whether it was murder or manslaughter, in fact.’

‘The side of the bridge was too high for him to fall over without being lifted or jumping.’

‘Well, that’s something, I suppose. Let’s keep the five grand out of the media for the time being, if we can. I’ll take a press conference at the end of the day, if anybody’s interested, that is.’

‘Even with the possibility of suicide, there’s bound to be a few vultures already, surely? Anyway, we’ll keep the money under wraps. It shouldn’t be a problem.’ Banks scratched his temple. ‘I’d be the first to admit that we need a lot more to go on before we can even get started, but if drugs are involved, I’m sure it’ll be quickly and easily settled once we get a list of his mobile calls and the contents of his computers.’

‘I hope so. A quick result would go down nicely in these penny-pinching days. How’s DI Cabbot doing?’

‘Annie? She’s fine. She’s wrapping up another case. I’ll bring her in if it turns out I need her on this.’

But Banks didn’t think Annie was fine. She had changed since she had been shot over a year ago, become more reckless, more secretive, harder, even. She was more difficult to talk to, and their conversations ended up as arguments, or at least minor quarrels, far more often than was healthy. He was worried about her, but she wouldn’t let him close.

‘DC Masterson working out all right?’

DC Geraldine Masterson was their latest detective constable, who had just come out of her probationary period. ‘Gerry? Yes. She’s doing well. She could do with a bit more confidence, but that often comes with experience. She’s got a damn useful set of skills, but I don’t think we let her out often enough to build her confidence. No problems to report, though.’

‘Good.’

Enjoying the coffee from Gervaise’s espresso machine, Banks figured that the penny-pinching hadn’t yet reached as high as the chief super’s budget for little luxuries. He felt a subtle shift of gear during one of Gervaise’s lengthy pauses.

‘Have you ever thought about retirement at all, Alan?’ she asked after a few beats had passed.

Banks was taken aback. ‘Retirement? Surely I’ve got a couple of years left yet, haven’t I?’

‘Yes, yes. Of course you have. But the way things are going, with budget cuts and all, who knows? It’s something that’s being encouraged in a lot of cases.’

‘Including me?’

‘Not specifically, no. Not yet. But I’m just letting you know that it’s an option. You’ve done your thirty. Plus. You’d have a decent pension.’

‘It’s not a matter of pensions,’ said Banks. ‘You know that. What would I do?’

Gervaise smiled. ‘Oh, I’m sure you’d find something, Alan. Bit of gardening, perhaps? Maybe take up a musical instrument? You like music, don’t you? Learn to play the piano. Some charity work, helping out in a care home or a hospital, feeding the poor in a church basement, something like that? Get a life?’

Banks shifted in his chair. ‘Am I missing something? You’re starting to make me nervous. Is this a roundabout way of telling me something I don’t want to hear?’

Gervaise’s smile was inscrutable. ‘Is that what you think? Does the subject of retirement make you uncomfortable, Alan?’

‘As a matter of fact, it does. It makes me cringe.’

Gervaise paused again. ‘More coffee?’

‘No, thanks. I’m jittery enough as it is. All this talk about retirement.’

‘That’s just one option. Have you ever thought about promotion?’

‘You must be joking? Me? Surely I’m unpromotable?’

‘You’d be surprised. You’ve made a few mistakes over the years, a few enemies, true enough, though many of them have moved on. You’ve got a lot of influential and powerful people on your side, too.’

‘Even since that business with MI5?’

‘Even since then. When did we ever dance to MI5’s tune?’

‘I didn’t exactly notice the cavalry hurrying around the bend to my rescue when they had me over a barrel.’

‘Well, you have only yourself to blame for that. You didn’t tell anyone what you were up to, did you? That’s your greatest failing. But despite your maverick tendencies, you’ve still got a lot of support where it counts.’