Peter Robinson: Watching the Dark

‘Did you hear anything during the night?’ Banks asked. ‘You said you don’t sleep well.’

‘I usually take a pill when I go to bed. That knocks me out for a few hours, then I can’t get back to sleep again, so I get up early. But from ten o’clock, when I usually go to bed, until about three or four, I’m dead to the world.’

‘So you didn’t hear anything after you woke up early?’

‘No. Only the birds.’

‘Where did Bill Quinn go instead of staying for a drink and participating in quiz night?’

‘I’ve no idea. I wasn’t keeping tabs on him. To his room, I suppose. Or out for a late smoke. All I know is I didn’t see him again.’

‘And you didn’t hear him leave the building after you went to bed?’

‘No. As you can see, my room’s right at the back, on the first floor, and he’s on the second floor at the front. The ground floor is all offices and treatment rooms, along with the dining room and library bar. Then there’s a basement, with the gym and swimming pool. I wouldn’t even have heard Bill Quinn if he’d had a wild orgy in his room. I wouldn’t necessarily hear anyone leaving through the front door. He could have gone out during quiz night for all I know. As I said, I didn’t see him at all after dinner.’

‘You were at quiz night?’

‘Yes.’

‘OK. We’ll ask the others. Someone might have seen something. What’s the security like here? Is access easy?’

Lorraine snorted. ‘Security? There isn’t any, really. I mean, it’s not a prison, or even a hospital. More like a posh hotel. Maybe there are a few expensive bits of gym gear or medical equipment around, but they don’t keep drugs or cash on the premises. As you know already, there’s a big wall, but no gate, so I suppose anyone can walk or drive in and out whenever they want. We can. It would be easy enough for someone to slip into the woods by the gate without being seen and just wait there. The nearest village is a mile and a half away, and sometimes some of the people here nip out for a jar or two in the pub. There’s no sentry post, no porter’s lodge, no curfew, no book to sign. There’s the night nurse on duty, you met Mandy, and she might have noticed something, but even she was probably fast asleep by then. We come and go as we please.’

‘Was Bill Quinn in the habit of going down to the woods at night?’

‘Not that I know of, no. Whenever I saw him outside, he’d be having a smoke by the front door.’

‘Is there CCTV?’

‘I don’t think so. You’d better ask one of the staff. I mean, why would there be? We’re all honest coppers here, right?’

‘Hmm.’ Banks stood up. ‘I’ll be off, then. Thanks for your time, Lorraine. I might be back.’

As he left, two uniformed WPCs entered Lorraine’s room. ‘Damn,’ he heard her say. ‘If you must go through my knicker drawer, try not to make too much of a mess.’

Banks walked down the broad wooden staircase to the reception area, letting his hand slide along the dark polished banister. A stair lift had been fitted on one side for those patients who had difficulty climbing the stairs. Annie had used it, he remembered. The whole place was crawling with police now. Banks spotted DC Doug Wilson and asked him if Winsome was still upstairs searching Bill Quinn’s room.

‘As far as I know she is, sir,’ said Wilson. ‘It’s 22B, west wing. I’m just getting the guest interviews organised. It’ll take us a while. We’re using one of the staff meeting lounges as the murder room. It’s being set up now.’

‘Excellent. How many patients in all?’

‘Only twelve, sir. Then there’s the staff, mostly part-time. We’ll use the library bar and the ground-floor offices and treatment rooms for the interviews. That way we can conduct more than one at a time and get finished sooner.’

‘Fine,’ said Banks. ‘Got enough help?’

‘I’ve got Gerry, sir. I mean DC Masterson.’

DC Geraldine Masterson had just finished her probationary period and was shaping up very well. She was young and still had a lot to learn, but that wasn’t such a bad thing. More important, she was bight and keen, and showed above average aptitude for grasping things. She also had a degree in IT.

‘I’ll see if I can manage to draft in some help,’ Banks said. ‘Until then, just do the best you can.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘And get a couple of officers asking around the general neighbourhood, the village, find out if anyone was seen hanging around here lately, last night in particular. A car, anything suspicious.’

‘It’s pretty isolated, sir.’

‘That’s why someone might have noticed something. You can get the word out to the media, too. No information about DI Quinn’s murder, especially about method of death, but we want to talk to anybody who passed by St Peter’s between, say, ten o’clock last night and two in the morning. The press will be here soon, so make sure you warn the men on the gate to keep them at bay. Did DS Jackman mention anything about searching the grounds and rooms?’

‘Yes, sir. We’re trying to get it done as quickly and discreetly as possible.’

‘Carry on, Doug,’ said Banks.

‘OK, sir.’ Doug Wilson strode off.

‘Sir? Excuse me. Just a minute, sir. Are you in charge of all this?’

Banks turned towards the new voice. The woman behind the reception desk was calling out to him. The area reminded him of a hotel reception, with the rows of pigeonholes on the wall behind her for keys and messages, a laptop computer on a pullout shelf, filing drawers, printer, fax and photocopy machine. The woman was perhaps a little older than Banks, grey-haired, matronly, and her name badge read ‘Mary’.

‘I’m DCI Banks,’ he said, offering his hand. ‘Sorry for all this upheaval, Mary. What can I do for you?’

‘Well, I was just wondering, you know, about the regular schedules. The patients. I mean physio, massage and suchlike. We do have our routines and timetables.’

‘A police officer has been murdered,’ said Banks. ‘I’d say normal operations are pretty much suspended for the moment, wouldn’t you? I’ll let you know when they can be resumed.’

Mary reddened. ‘I’m sorry. But what should I tell people? I mean, one of our physiotherapists drives all the way over from Skipton, and her first appointment isn’t till two this afternoon. Should I phone and cancel?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ said Banks. ‘We’ll want to talk to everyone connected with the place as soon as we possibly can, including the staff. That means we’ll need the names and addresses of any personnel who won’t be coming in today. Were you here all night?’

‘No, sir,’ said Mary. ‘I live in Eastvale. The desk isn’t staffed twenty-four hours a day. No need. I’m usually gone by six or seven at the latest, depending on how much catching up I have to do. I start at eight, as a rule. In fact, I just arrived. I can’t really believe what’s going on.’

‘Are you a police officer, Mary?’

‘No, sir. Registered nurse. Retired.’

‘No need to call me sir, then.’

‘Oh. Yes. Of course.’

‘I’m sure it’s a shock,’ Banks said. ‘Apart from the patients and the nurse, is there anyone else who stops here for the whole night?’

‘There’s Barry.’

‘Barry Sadler?’

‘Yes. Head groundsman, porter, jack of all trades. He lives in the flat over the old stables, but he’s here to help if there’s ever a need for heavy lifting or anything, and he does most of the odd jobs himself. Of course, he has a small staff to call in, as and when he needs them. Cleaners, gardeners, a lawn-trimmer and topiarist and so on. But they don’t live here.’

‘I’ll need a list of their names, too,’ said Banks. ‘Do you have a security system?’