Peter Robinson - Friend of the Devil

Austin flushed with anger. “I resent that remark. Where do you draw the line, Inspector? Nineteen? Twenty? Twenty-one? You know you don’t have a leg to stand on as far as the law is concerned.” He paused. “Besides, as I was about to tell you, Hayley was much older than her years, very mature for her age.”

“Emotionally?”

“Well, yes…”

“Tell me what emotionally mature young woman goes out drinking with a group of friends on a Saturday night, wearing practically nothing, and drinks so much she gets legless and totters down a dark alley for a piss?” Banks could sense Winsome staring at him, and he knew she was thinking he was acting almost as badly as Templeton. But self-righteous pricks like Austin, who abused their positions of power to indulge their desires for young girls, or boys, always made him angry, and he still felt plenty of residual anger from his interview with Randall the previous evening. He knew he needed to tone it down, though, or Austin would clam up completely, so he indicated subtly to Winsome that he had got her message, knew what he was doing and was easing his foot off the accelerator.

“I think what Mr. Banks means,” said Winsome, “is what sort of shape would Hayley have been in on Saturday night when she got to your house? If you remember, you did indicate last time I talked to you that you didn’t want a drunk and immature teenager in your house. Now you’re saying that Hayley was mature for her years. Maybe you can see our problem? We’re getting a few conflicting remarks here.”

“That’s it exactly,” Banks said. “You see, Malcolm, according to all accounts, Hayley was pretty far gone. I find myself wondering what use she could have possibly been to you in that state.”

Austin glared. “You might not understand this, Mr. Banks,” he said, “but love isn’t always a matter of ‘using,’ of what you can get from someone. If Hayley had come to me on Saturday night and she’d been drinking, I wouldn’t have taken advantage of her. I didn’t need for her to be drunk to make love. I would have made her some coffee, left her to sleep it off, made her as comfortable as possible.”

Banks remembered Annie’s drunken visit of the other night. Is that what he should have done? Settled her down, made her comfortable? “Admirable,” he said. “But were you expecting her?”

Austin paused to examine something on his desk, then he said, “She told me she might come by. Saturday was always a casual arrangement. It was her night.”

“Then why did you lie to DS Jackman the last time she spoke to you?”

Austin looked guiltily at Winsome. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It was just that I was afraid of exactly the kind of reaction I got from you just now. Our relationship is not easy to explain. People don’t always understand.” He glared at Banks again.

“Look,” said Banks, in his best we’re-men-of-the-world manner, “no man would deny the attractiveness of a lissome nineteen-year-old beauty like Hayley Daniels, and no one could fail to understand why you wanted to bed her. The love bit’s a touch harder to fathom, I will admit, but granted, it happens. People are strange that way. The problem isn’t so much the age difference, but that you’re a teacher and she was your student. What do the college authorities think of this sort of thing?”

Austin looked away. “They don’t know, of course. I doubt that they’d be sympathetic. They frown on teacher-student relationships.”

“So you didn’t want them to know? It could mean your career?”

“That’s one reason I wasn’t completely truthful, yes. I’ve worked very hard for many years to get where I am now.”

“Only one reason?”

“Well, no one wants to be dragged into a murder investigation, do they?”

“But you’re in it now. Up to your neck. Did you really think you could get away with lying about something like that?” Banks shook his head. “It just boggles my mind that people must think we’re so stupid as to overlook the obvious.” A hint of marijuana smoke drifted up from the courtyard.

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” said Austin. “I just didn’t think it was that obvious. We tried to be discreet. We were going to go public when she finished her diploma. Now it’s all out in the open, what is it you want to know? I had nothing to do with Hayley’s death. As I told you, I love her. Loved her.”

“Had she dropped by after going out drinking on a Saturday night before?” Banks asked.

“Yes. I can’t honestly say I was too thrilled. I mean, she was usually, as you said, a bit the worse for alcohol. But it was her night out with her friends, and if… well, quite frankly…”

“What?” said Banks.

“Well, if she had to spend the night somewhere, I’d rather she spent it with me.”

“You didn’t trust her?”

“I didn’t say that. But she’s young. Vulnerable.”

“So you were jealous,” said Banks. “Stands to reason. I’d be jealous too if I had a beautiful young girlfriend. A few drinks in her, and she might start shagging someone her own age.” Banks felt Winsome bristle again. Templeton-phobia or no, she had to loosen up, he thought. You sometimes had to shake the tree pretty hard to get the coconut to fall. Austin was an educated type, not without a touch of arrogance, and you weren’t going to get to him by logical argument and civilized banter.

“If, as I am,” Austin said, “you are fortunate enough to have the love of a young woman, you soon learn that you can’t afford to be clinging in the relationship.”

“What did you think when she didn’t turn up?” Winsome asked.

“I didn’t think anything, really. I mean, it was by no means definite that she would.”

“You weren’t worried about her?”

“No.”

“But she wasn’t expected at home,” Banks cut in, “so where did you think she was staying?”

“With friends, I suppose.”

“With someone else? And you were jealous. Did you go out searching for her?”

“I told you, it doesn’t pay to be clinging. Besides, I trusted Hayley. Yes, as I said, I would rather her stop with me, but if she stopped at a friend’s flat, it didn’t mean she would be sleeping with him.” His eyes misted over. “In a way,” he said, “I suppose I hoped she wouldn’t come. I always found it hard to deal with her in that state, and I was tired on Saturday.”

“Hard to handle when she was drunk, was she?” said Banks.

“She could be.”

“What was she like?”

“Irrational, unpredictable, overtalkative.”

“Would Hayley have arrived by one o’clock if she was coming?”

“Usually, yes. Anyway, she had a key.”

“Very trusting of you.”

“It’s called love, Inspector. You really ought to try it.”

“Chance would be a fine thing. Why should we believe you?”

“I don’t follow.”

Banks scratched the scar beside his right eye. “You’ve lied to us once or twice, so why should we believe anything you tell us now?”

“Because it’s the truth.”

“Easy for you to say. But look at it from my point of view. Hayley makes her way to your house the worse for wear. You’re fed up of her drunken antics and you tell her so, in no uncertain terms. Maybe she teases you, makes fun of your age or something, and you see red. She doesn’t want it, but she’s drunk and you don’t care what she wants. You know what you want. So you do it anyway. She struggles, but that just makes it all the more exciting. Afterward she’s making such a fuss, maybe even threatening to tell the college what you’ve done. You can’t have that, so you strangle her. Then you’re stuck with a body. Best thing you can think of at short notice is to shove it in the boot of your car and dump it in the Maze.” A few of the facts didn’t quite match the story Banks was telling, such as the violence of the rape, the timing, and the CCTV tapes, but Austin wasn’t to know that. “How am I doing?”